Page 47 of Sweet Misery

“He made me,” she whispered, looking down at the floor again.

“Did he?” I cocked my head as I studied her.

“He kept finding his way to me. He came and screamed on campus. People laughed at me. I had to come back.”

“So what makes you think that finishing college and moving away would make his actions different? Surely you know ifsomeone wants you, they will find you? Safety only lasts as long as they search.”

Her shoulders slumped forward, her body language showcasing her defeat and realization as she stared back at the floor.

I pressed on.

“There is no escape, Sweet Misery,” I said gently, reaching out to tilt her chin back up. I liked looking into her pretty eyes.

“How do you know?” she whispered, her bottom lip wobbling.

My cock yearned to be set free as I watched her.

Fucking hell.

I never did this shit. If I was with a woman, it was out of necessity. I didn’t crave closeness or a relationship. In fact, I’d never been in any sort of relationship past fucking a woman and kicking her to the curb right after. No one stayed in my bed but me. I didn’t entertain their tears either, but as one slipped from Misery’s eye as she stared back at me, my heart lurched.

Irritation swept through me. Had Roman and Renzo not fucked up and caught feelings, I wouldn’t be dealing with this shit right now. Same for Sever. This house had gone mad since her arrival.

It pissed me off the status quo was getting fucked.

“Because I also live in Hell,” I answered back, finishing my third drink after the words had slipped free. I poured a fourth drink, the room silent.

She’d gone back to staring at the floor.

Sighing, I asked the question nagging me.

“What would you do if you were free right now?”

“Go home,” she answered simply.

“So right back into the fire. How does that help your situation if you want to be free? You can’t return to the same fire which burned you and expect to heal.”

Her shoulders sagged again.

“Maybe I’d kill him.” Her words were so soft I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly.

“You’d kill your father?”

She nodded, sniffling.

“Tell me, Sweet Misery, how would you do it? Look at me.”

She locked eyes with me.

“I-I would stab him while he was asleep.”

I smirked at her answer. “Why not while he’s awake so he takes it to the grave that way it can haunt him for eternity?”

She nibbled along her bottom lip, contemplating my question again. I ground my teeth, my cock at full mast now. The alcohol wasn’t doing its job.

“Because I’m not strong enough,” she answered. “I’ve never killed anyone before.”

“I would think having your father fondle your tits would make anyone strong enough.” I sipped my drink, taking in the way her body trembled at my words. “I spoke to my own father today. He told me what happened. Don’t you think it’s fucked up he’d touch you like that? All to get out of paying what he owed and getting a fucking life?”

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