Page 6 of Eden's Deliverance

Skylar meets my gaze over the dashboard, and the memory of him laughing from the bay window fuels my fire. I don’t miss a beat, giving him the same vicious smirk he’s had on his face all night. Cutting my steering wheel all the way to the right, I slip the gear shift into reverse and floor it.

He has to jump out of the way to avoid getting knocked over when our cars collide, but his horrified reaction to the collective sight and sound of the destruction is fucking beautiful.

I know I’m probably going to pay for that, butfuck, I’m finding it hard to see the price tag over all the disgust on his face. How dare he lay his hands on me? I deserve this win, and it’s not the only one I’ve gotten tonight.

I’ve been accepted to Eden’s Deliverance, and in less than a week’s time—as Penelope so gracefully said—my sexcapades are about to start.

2

Skylar

This fucking cunt.

I can’t do much but watch as she peels out of the driveway, taking half my fucking car with her. I tried to warn her—if she wants to fuck around, she’s going to quickly learn what going toe to toe with me actually looks like.

Let’s see ifDaddyhas any contributions to make towards his daughter’s destruction.

I find our parents lounging in the den, watching some childish reality show on TV. It’s one of those bullshit popularity contests Netflix hosts, where they reward whoever proves to be the most chronically online.

“Hey, Gene.” I walk up and plaster on a convincing smile, praying they didn’t overhear our discernible spat at dinner. “Scarlett dropped her phone in the driveway, so I figured I could swing by her place and return it on my way home. Do you have her address on hand?”

“Oh shoot!” With a soft chortle, he waddles over to the foyer table and pulls a notebook from one of the drawers. “I tell you, that girl would lose her head if it wasn’t attached to her shoulders.” After scribbling down the address onto a Post-it, he hands it to me.

Bingo.

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to tell her to be more careful,” I say.

It’s laughable, really. I won’t be using this piece of paper to do anything good, but I think I’ll hold onto it for a while—the opportune moment will present itself soon enough.

She has no idea what I have in store for her.

Eugene laughs again, giving me a brief nod before rejoining my mother in the den. I follow behind him to give her a proper kiss goodbye, with lots of promises to come back soon.

I let myself out and hop into my car, avoiding the atrocities I’m sure to find when I check the exterior more thoroughly tomorrow. I’ll take blissful ignorance, thanks. Leaning back against the headrest, I close my eyes and try to calm my fucking nerves.

That bitch is lucky I didn’t rip her goddamn hair out. If it weren’t for my poor mother, Baker Drive may have made it to national news for the massacre of the century.

“Man brutally slays his stepsister in the driveway of their parents’ house after a heated altercation.”

It has a ring to it.

Also, what was with all the bullshit dramatics in blasting the soundtrack to my Audi’s death? I need to get that fucking song out of my head before I blow a gasket.

I open Spotify and blast “Granite” by Sleep Token at full volume as I take off. The bass reverberates through my whole body, eliciting the tranquil sensation I’ve been aching for.

Fuck, I’ve needed this. I love my mom, but spending a whole evening with her dopey husband is more than I can handle.

I do my best to space out, tapping on the steering wheel to the beat of the song, but something from earlier keeps popping into my head.

“I just got confirmation that we’re allowed to go ahead with the food orders for the local church.”

What are the chances of a church charity drive sending out messages this late on a Sunday night? I give my wrist a small shake, checking the watch face for the timestamp on my notification from Eden. Eight o'clock—the same time Scarlett pulled her phone out and gave her little speech.

Could it be a coincidence?

Possibly.

Is that likely?

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