Page 36 of Vengeful Sins

MAYA

Shit. What the hell happened?

I mean, I’m glad I’m alone in the bed when I wake up with my head pounding and my stomach churning every time I try to move. Funny how it’s easy to forget the concept of a future hangover when every sip of liquor tastes better than the last. I’m paying for it this morning.

But I would be paying a hell of a lot worse if Tucker was still here. Considering nobody came storming in here with a gun in hand or anything like that, I’m guessing he got away before Dad came home. At least he did that much without me having to ask.

But what else did we do?

Think!Right, and maybe for my next trick. I’ll learn how to fly. Thinking is not exactly easy when my brain feels like it is wrapped in cotton, studded with glass shards. But I need to think. I need to remember. Closing my eyes, shutting out as much light as I can, I force myself to relax. It’s easier to let the memories come back on their own rather than trying to dig them out.

I know one thing for sure: the soreness between my legs tells me we had sex. I can barely remember it. Everything’s dark afterthe point where we were kissing, while he was touching me. I was fully dressed then, even if his hands were moving under my clothes.

Little bits and pieces come at me in flashes, memories that are half-formed. Being aware of him lying beside me afterward. Feeling something rubbing against me down there, something warm and wet. Maybe a washcloth or a towel. He even made sure I was dressed before he left.

I don’t know what to think or how to feel. If I should blame him or thank him for taking care of me.

One thing I do know: I need to get out of this house today, even if the idea of moving makes bile rise in my throat. I feel dizzy just turning my head from one side to the other while it’s still on the pillow. But I need to get out. I’m afraid the longer I stay, the easier it will be for Dad to keep me here.

That’s why I drag myself through getting out of bed and slowly showering; by the time I’m finished, I feel a lot more human. A couple of aspirin and a bottle of water help, too. Once I’m dressed and creeping out of my room, my head only thuds weakly. Maybe I’ll stop for a greasy breakfast sandwich on the way to campus, since that will probably fix things the rest of the way.

First, I need to get out of here.

It’s rare for me to be glad my father is home, but today is an exception. He is in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee and reading something on his phone when I walk in. “Don’t think I didn’t notice all the bourbon missing from that bottle,” he says. His version ofgood morning. The bottle was missing from my dresser—I guess Tucker must have put it back, unless I did, in a total state of blackout.

“I need my keys,” I announce, rather than letting him drag me into an argument I don’t have the capacity for. “I have to go to school.”

“Right. I’m sure you’re so committed to your education that you absolutely have to go.”

“What’s so wrong with that? Come on,” I whisper, careful to keep my voice low. I can’t give him any reason to get mad and do something drastic. “I still have to live. And I have an exam today.” It’s not true. What, is he going to check?

“Only because I don’t feel like wasting the tuition money I’ve already shelled out for you.” He dips his hand to his suit jacket and pulls out my keys, sliding them across the granite topped island between us. “But don’t think you can get away with sneaking off. I know things you don’t. I can track you.”

Is that true? Dare I find out? No, it’s probably a lot safer to get out of here while I still have the chance and be glad I managed it. I snatch the keys off the counter before he can change his mind and hurry out of the house. I’ll never take this feeling of freedom for granted ever again, that much is for sure. Now I know how easily it can be taken away.

Rather than meet up with Wren in the cafeteria or somewhere else on campus, I settle for going straight to class, the way I did when we weren’t talking. It’s a lot easier to keep to myself when I’m really not in the mood to provide a bunch of explanations for what happened last night. I’m still not sure I could if I tried.

That doesn’t mean she’ll leave me alone. There are half a dozen texts from her by the time I check my phone between classes, where I only sat in the back and counted the minutes, anyway. I’m too tired and still a little woozy to give much brain power to anything besides trying to stay awake.

Wren: Are you OK?

Wren: What can we do?

Wren: Were you able to come to school? I didn’t see you. I’m worried.

Wren: Come to the house after class. You can stay there now. Don’t worry about bringing your things. We’ll find a way to get them.

She makes a point. I could figure something out. I could go to an ATM and take out some cash in case Dad decides to cut off my bank card when he realizes I’m not coming home. I should do that. The possibilities make my skin tingle.

My mind is made up by the time the last class of the day is finished, and I text her.

Me: OkI’ll come to you.

On the way, I swing by an ATM and take out five hundred—the max I can take in a day—for any essentials I need to pick up. I’ll be fine living in cheap leggings and T-shirts so long as it means being able to get away from him.

The thrill of freedom starts to leak into my veins as I pull away from the bank. I’m finally doing this. I’m finally standing up for myself, taking control of my life. Everything looks a little brighter and sunnier throughout the last few miles to the big house I’m going to live in for the foreseeable future. After that, who knows? I’ll figure it out. I am not alone anymore.

I’m never alone. Not really. I learn that when my phone rings as soon as I’ve parked in front of the house, next to Wren’s car. For the first time in hours, nausea grips me, this time because of the wordDadglowing up at me from my screen. “Shit,” I whisper, covering my eyes with one trembling hand. Does he know I’m here? How would he know?

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