Page 107 of Ride or Die
No one is in the living area when I walk in, and when I look around, the house appears empty. In fact, it's eerily quiet in hereamongst all the trash. I’m about to go upstairs when I hear Colt call out.
“Hey, Lay, I’m in the kitchen!”
That’s strange. I told him the last of my stuff was locked away in my room, but I walk through the hallway into the kitchen to see Colt sitting at the table with my parents.
Something is off.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-THREE
EVERYTHING IS NOT AS IT SEEMS
LAYLA
When I take one look at Colt, my heart drops. His eyes are tense, warning me that something is wrong.
My mom smiles at me, but it’s not friendly or loving. It’s dark and sinister. My dad glares at me, stoned-faced with cold eyes, sitting a little too close to Colt for my comfort.
There’s a heaviness in the air, a palpable tension.
“Come have a seat, sweetheart.” My mom gestures to the chair, but Colt shakes his head, subtly indicating not to. I take the hint. I'm not fucking stupid. These are not nice people, and there is nothing but mal-intent here.
I take in everything in the room, and it’s now that I notice Colt’s arms behind his back and realize they have tied him up.
“I’d rather stand. What’s going on?” My mother’s smile falls, and a more crazed look takes over.
“You never listened very well, did you? Everyone called you the good girl, but you never fucking listened. Furthest thing from a good girl,” she spits out, sounding like a lunatic. My dad shifts in the seat next to Colt, and a gun comes up from under the table. He places it on the tabletop facing me.
“Enough dancing around this shit,” he says abruptly to my mother, getting up from his chair. “We want your boy’s money here. So you’re going to go get it for us or we’re going to kill him,” my dad says simply, like it’s the most normal request in the world.
I look at the two of them standing before me, frail, probably tweaked out as we speak. The abuse of drugs is evident in their mannerisms and demeanor. They’re junkies.
“He doesn’t have any money. He spent it all.” I lie, hoping they will believe me. My dad snorts, and my mom walks up to me.
“Yeah, like we believe that.” She reaches forward and rips the necklace Colt gave me right off, leaving a burn that stings the back of my neck.
“No money, but you’re wearing this?” Rage fills my insides as I watch her toss it over to my dad.
“Why are you doing this to us?” I try to keep my voice from shaking, not wanting them to know they’re affecting me. I’m a lot stronger than I used to be, but it's terrifying when your parents are threatening to kill the love of your life.
They don't answer, they just stare at me. I need to know why they would want to do this to their own daughter and her boyfriend.
“Like seriously why the fuck are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?” I ask more sharply, agitated by their lack of explanation.
“I told you, we want your boy’s money. For a smart girl, you’re awfully fucking stupid. We need money and you have it. You’re not the ones getting out of here. We are. We worked too damn hard to be stuck here while you escape this shithole suburb with your punk boyfriend. That’s our freedom!” my dad yells.
I snort derisively and fold my arms across my chest. “Everything that’s happened to you is your own fault. Colt and I worked our asses off for an education just so we didn’t become people like you. We put our lives on the line. We earned our freedom!” I shout.
Rage brightens my dad’s face at my attitude, his expression turning to one of pure evil as he marches across the kitchen and backhands me. I yelp, my hand flying to my cheek to cover the sting. Colt struggles in his chair, pulling against his restraints, but can’t break free. Turning his anger back on Colt, my dad bolts back over and grabs his head, pressing the gun to his temple.
Colt winces, his eyes closing as mine widen in horror. I put out my hands in surrender, swallowing down my fear.
“Okay…Okay…Okay. I’ll get you the money. Just please put the gun down, I’ll stop being a smart ass,” I plead.
“Go get the fucking money! Everything he has!” my dad demands, finally pulling the gun away from his head.
Colt’s chest heaves up and down, his breaths coming loud and heavy. He opens his eyes and looks at me sternly, silently telling me to cut my shit because my smart mouth is getting us into trouble. Enough fucking around with these mentally unstable fucks, we can do more jobs for Williams to get out of here.
