Page 67 of The Two of Us

I’m used to walking around the house in the dark but tonight it carries a sinister edge and my hand trembles as I reach for the doorknob. Otso leaps toward my waist, whimpering, and I clutch the doorframe to keep my knees from buckling. Behind him is a mound of doggy treats on the floor.

“Who put you in here, boy?” I whisper.

The sound of glass shattering travels from downstairs, paralyzing my movements. Otso lets out a predatory bark and I use my knee to nudge him back inside. If Laura’s downstairs, I don’t want her to get attacked just because he’s scared.

“Go, buddy. Get back in. I’ll come back in a few minutes.”

He’s hesitant but follows my order. He sits in the corner and his whimper makes my heart squeeze.

“Laura?” I call, heading back down. She doesn’t answer and something feels off. Wrong. Every bone in my body tells me to avoid the lower level of the house and I would if it wasn’t for…

Dad.

I run in the direction of my dad’s room, tripping over my loosened shoelaces. His room is dark except for a glowing night-light near the window. As I get closer, I see that he’s sound asleep, breathing steadily in perfect harmony with the oxygen machine. I exhale with relief and lean down to kiss his forehead.

You’re watching too many horror movies, Mara.

I close his door behind me and hear the sickening smack before I feel it. White orbs dance across my vision and then it’s dark.

When I come to, the first thing I notice is the hardwood floor my face rests upon. It desperately needs to be mopped. Dust floats around my nostrils as I attempt to steady my breathing. The second thing I notice is that it’s no longer dark. A small lamp resting on a table in the entryway casts a faint glow.

Sitting beside the lamp is Anya’s ex.

He looks calm with his legs crossed and hands clasped in his lap. I lick at my dry lips, hyperaware of the warm liquid trickling down my face.

He tilts his head to the side, a smirk lining his mouth. “Morning. Or should I say night? Either way, welcome back from your slumber, beautiful.”

I attempt to move, but my ribs reject the request.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” He laughs.

My throat constricts in fear. “What do you want?”

“I told you what I wanted. My money.”

I blanch. “I don’t have your money.”

He rolls his eyes as he shrugs off his jacket like I’ve asked him to make himself comfortable. “Obviously. But you got in the way of me getting my money. I’ve got to get it from somewhere, Mara.”

How does he know my name?

“I honestly wasn’t planning on knocking you out. Scout’s honor.” He laughs, drawing an X over his heart. “But you came home before I could find anything of value in this shithole.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yes!” He cackles. “I love that. I love that fire. I was wondering what Ambrose saw in you and I get it now. You and Anya both have it. That bite.” He stands slowly and lowers to his knees in front of me. I don’t have the strength to move away. Bringing his lips to my face, his breath is hot and smells of cigarettes. “But unlike Ambrose, I like to bite back.”

I strike my leg out like a viper, aiming for his groin, and pain shoots down my leg. When he dodges my advance, he tsks at me like I’m an insolent child. He digs his fist into my rib cage and I choke out a muffled scream beneath his palm firmly clamped over my mouth.

He hooks his thumb in the belt loop of my jeans and tugs before gliding his hand into my backside pocket and I began to shake. “Tell me where to find some money, Mara, or I’ll have to go searching for myself.”

A single knock sounds at the front door and he freezes, fingers stiff in my empty pocket.

“Expecting someone?” he whispers, tilting his head in curiosity.

I shake my head vehemently.

Ambrose.

---