Page 30 of Twisted Play
“What do you want with me, Cole?” she whispered.
“To walk you to class.”
“And if I don’t want you to walk me to class?”
“This isn’t about what you want, sparrow.”
12
EVA
“Dad?”I let myself into the dark house. The porch light was out, and when I flicked the switch, it didn’t turn on. Goddammit. One more problem I had to find time and money to fix.
Between the stress of maintaining a 4.0 to make up for my grades last year, Cole Carter’s odd insistence on walking me to class, and my night shift waiting tables at the club, every muscle in my body ached.
Dad slept on the couch, a half empty bottle by his side, a newspaper clutched in his fist, the classifieds highlighted. The living room was spotless—I hadn’t had time to clean this weekend, and he’d done it for me for the first time in a long time.
My heart broke.
Carefully, I removed the paper from his grip, smoothing the wrinkles and folding it before placing it on the table. I didn’t even know people still used the paper to find jobs. I drew a blanket up over him and kissed his temple. “I love you,” I whispered before lifting my bag over my shoulder and hauling it upstairs.
A few minutes later, I padded back downstairs to make myself a snack. The fridge was practically empty, except for one plate with two pieces of pizza, carefully wrapped in plastic. The note on it read, “Eva.”
Wait.
No.
I spun around and took in the boxes of pizza and cans of beer by the trash can. Where had my father found the money to order pizza? And buy a case of beer?
Shit shit shit shit shit.
I knelt to search under the sink, shoving cleaning supplies aside and pulling out the nondescript plastic bucket where I kept our emergency stash. I’d thought it was safe there because he cleaned so rarely—it’d become yet another bone of contention between us as I struggled to balance school and work and everything else.
Empty.How could he?
Incandescent rage turned the edges of my vision black. My scholarship didn’t cover room and board, just tuition. The cash from tonight’s shift was supposed to go into the fund for repairing the hot water heater—but now, I’d have to use it for groceries. I’d been scrimping and saving for months, a few dollars here and there, hoping I’d have enough before winter hit. And now, it was fucking gone.
He’d turned a quarter of a million-dollar debt into a million-dollar debt, and now, he’d spent my emergency stash too.
Goddammit. Why did it have to be so difficult? No matter how hard I worked, no matter how much I saved, I couldn’t get ahead.
I’d given up so much. And here I was, getting ready to face the winter without hot water because my father, who’d given up so much for me, couldn’t resist temptation.
My mind flashed back to before Mom cleaned out the bank accounts and left us, sixteen years ago, after my first operation. We’d been happy. And then, we weren’t. And then, she was gone. Dad went to her funeral a decade later—a car accident. I refused.
It was so fucking unfair. Assholes like Cole Carter had everything handed to them on a platter, and people like me had to hustle for every scrap.
Fuck him.
Fuck this.
Fuck everything.
I crashed on top of my blankets, not even bothering to change, praying to a god I didn’t believe in that tomorrow would be better.
My alarm blared,and I groaned. My sleep had been plagued with nightmares, and all I wanted was to roll over and pretend I didn’t have to find a way to survive my senior year.
And feed myself.
