Page 56 of Deranged (American Street Kings 3)

“Leave her alone! Don’t hurt her! I’ll kill you. I’ll kill all of you!” Glenn screamed, and then there was a loudthwack, a sound that cracked through the house. When I opened my eyes, Glenn was on the floor, eyes closed like he was sleeping. There was a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth, and I choked on a breath when I realized Dad had hit him.

Mom was crying as Dad picked his seemingly lifeless body from the floor, carrying him up the stairs.

I looked at Jeffrey, who still stood by the front door, hands tucked in his pants pockets, a slight smirk on his face as he watched everything that was happening. He didn’t seem frightened at all—not the way I was.

Mom clutched her naked arm, and I noticed the blue and yellow bruises on the inside of her elbow. She wiped away the tears, pulled her palms down her dress, and wiped some strands of hair from her face.

“I’m sorry about that, Jeffrey. Please, come have a piece of cake.”

He smiled at her. “No problem at all. Kids will be kids.” When he turned to face me, I shivered.

“Come on, Dahlia,” Mom urged, holding out her hand. “I think you should have another slice of cake. How does that sound?”

I shook my head, Glenn’s cries still echoing in my head. Not even another piece of cake would be able to bring the butterflies back to life.

“Come on.” She held out her hand, and with hesitant steps, I moved out of the corner, biting my lip, my cheeks still wet from crying. My birthday was ruined. Glenn ruined my birthday by misbehaving and being rude to Daddy’s friend. It was all his fault that my butterflies disappeared.

It was all his fault.

I sat down at the dining table and watched silently as Mom cut more cake. Jeffrey took a seat next to me, placing a brown paper bag on the table. “This cake looks delicious. I think we should have something to drink with the cake, don’t you?” He smiled at me, reaching out, gently tucking my hair behind my ear. I didn’t like the way it felt when he touched me.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mom take the paper bag, peeking inside. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, almost like she smelled something she liked. Something wasn’t right. I felt it in my chest, the way my heart raced, willing me to run. Why did Glenn think Jeffrey was here to hurt me?

Mom closed the bag. “I’ll go pour us something to drink.” She walked to the kitchen, and a part of me didn’t want to be left alone with Daddy’s friend. But I knew better than to call out after her, to beg her not to leave me alone here.

I placed my hands in my lap, staring down at the slice of cake in front of me, no longer craving its sugary sweetness.

“What’s the matter, Dahlia? You don’t like the cake?” He placed his hand on my leg, his long fingers wrapping around my knee. It felt wrong, the way he touched me. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I didn’t want Daddy’s friend to think I was rude.

He shifted his seat closer. “Would you like me to feed you?”

I shook my head, and his hand crept higher up my leg.

“You look real pretty in that dress.” I swallowed while I felt his fingers slither up the inside of my thigh. “The purple color brings out the blue in your eyes.”

I bit my lip, willing the burning tears away. Mom came back into the living room, and I exhaled, relieved that she was back and I was no longer alone with Daddy’s friend. But Jeffrey didn’t take his hand off my leg. He thanked my mother for the drinks then pushed my glass closer toward me.

My mom smiled at me, but this time I didn’t like her smile.

“Drink up, sweetheart. When you’re done with your drink, you’re getting your present.”

I no longer wanted the present. The butterflies died. There was no more excitement for birthday parties, cake, or presents.

“Drink up, Dahlia,” Jeffrey urged, his fingers drawing circles on my leg, my skin burning.

I swallowed, my throat dry, my heart racing faster than it ever did before. My tummy felt heavy, achy, my arms and legs trembling. Something wasn’t right. The sweat beading at the back of my neck warned me that something wasn’t right.

My mom.

My dad.

Glenn.

Jeffrey.

The brown paper bag.

Something wasn’t right.

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