Page 7 of Hush 3: Hidden Family

I look up at him and glare. I hate when he calls me that. He only says it when Mommy isn’t around.

I get frustrated and overwhelmed because I don’t want to be here with him. I’m starting to think he’s lying to me. I don’t think I should have left the house with him.

I can’t help fidgeting in my seat as I start to chew on my tongue to help me with the anxiety building inside. The strand of music in my head has popped. The next thing I know, I’m rocking and cracking my knuckles.

I want to be far away from here. It’s not safe. As I dart my gaze around, I know for sure it’s not safe.

“Get all that shit out now. When we get to our friends, you better not start that bullshit in front of them,” he hisses at me.

I don’t like the feel of his hand on my leg. I begin to slide away from him. However, he tightens his hold to keep me in place.

“Look at me,” he snarls as I turn away from him to look out of the window.

I turn my head back in his direction, but I don’t look him in the eyes. He reaches to brush his fingers along my hairline. I hate his touch and begin to squirm.

“You have such pretty hair. I’m glad we could cover up those fucking patches. Your mother should have broken you out of that stupid ass habit a long time ago.

“Tearing out your own damn hair. I’m not going to tolerate any of that shit. Clients don’t want to hear that bullshit or see you looking unkept. Shut that noise the fuck up, now,” he barks.

I knit my brows and try to stifle the urge to chew on my tongue which is making the sound he’s so annoyed with.However, by stopping the chewing, I can’t help but reach up for my hair to twist and pull a lock of it.

He slaps my hand away from my hair, causing me to hiss at him. Mommy doesn’t like when I hiss at people, but I don’t like this man. He makes my skin crawl.

“Don’t hit me. Abuse. Abuse. Someone help,” I call out.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls and grabs my face. “Look at me when I talk to you. I’ll show you abuse. No one is coming to save you. I never want to hear those words come from your mouth again. Do you understand me?”

I punch him in the throat, just like in the jujitsu videos I love to watch on my tablet. His eyes grow wide as he releases my face and falls back in his seat. I clap my hand in excitement as I execute the move correctly.

“Yay,” I squeal happily.

“You fucking little retarded bitch,” he snarls and slaps me across the face. He hits me so hard my ears feel like they’re ringing.

My vision is blurred as I fall back against my own seat. The next thing I know, the sound of my dress being ripped fills my ears. He’s hovering over me as he leans into my face with his rank breath.

He has halitosis and needs to see a periodontist to treat the gum disease infecting his mouth. It smells like something has died in his gums. He should just cut his tongue out and get a new one.

“I’m going to teach you a little lesson. Fuck saving you for the highest bidder. Your retarded ass is going to fuck it all up anyway,” he growls in my ear as he fumbles with trying to tear my panties from my body.

I turn my face and bite him as I shove at his chest. He screams as I keep biting down. I bite through all three layersof skin—the epidermis, dermis, and the hypodermis—until my teeth meet his jaw.

I only release him as he begins to punch me in the head. A metallic taste fills my mouth as I release him. He pulls back and continues to rain blows down on me.

I think the car pulls to a stop, but I am beginning to lose consciousness. My ears are ringing, and my face and head hurt. However, his weight is no longer on me and he’s no longer pounding his fists against me.

Mommy, where are you? Help. Your friend is a bad man.

Michael

Morgan Christoph, that’s the name of the asshole who has Don Trovati’s granddaughter. The motherfucker intends to auction her off tonight. That’s going to happen over my dead body. She’s a fourteen-year-old girl.

What kind of sick fuck kills a girl’s mother then tries to sell her off to the highest bidder? I can tell my brother is chomping at the bit to torture and hush his ass.

I don’t stand a chance to have a hand at this one. I have already been given orders to get her to safety as Uri handles the rest. We don’t want to make any waves while we’re here.

Uri doesn’t want to call in any favors. Hitters are supposed to be resourceful and self-sufficient. Having to call for help is unprofessional.

“Hang back. Don’t get too close,” Uri murmurs to me, causing me to back off the gas.

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