Page 38 of The Villain's Captive (The Villain's Duet 1)

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It wasn’t the first time my mom took in a stray—a man who came packing with the promise of money to feed her drug addiction. Many had come and gone over the years, but Roland stayed, and even put a ring on Mom’s finger. My guess was the others had half a brain to realize that fucking my mother wasn’t worth the shit they had to put up with. Roland, on the other hand, was too much of an idiot to see it.

I sat at the top of the stairs watching him scratching his belly while laughing at some shit show or other on the television. My mom was in her room, covering up the bruises and getting high. Ellie was busy rummaging through the kitchen cupboards in search of something to eat. But I already knew there was nothing. The fat pig ate it all, stuffing his face like a savage, not caring that there were other hungry stomachs in the house as well.

“Ellie,” I called, and she peeked out of the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s go play cards in my room.” It was code for ‘I have food.’ If I didn’t keep my stash a secret, Roland would take it all and stuff his face, leaving nothing for us.

Ellie’s blonde ponytail bobbed as she rushed up the stairs, her eyes gleaming with excitement. I stood, and she stilled next to me, glancing up. “Oh, no. What happened to your face?”

I touched my cheek, my skin still burning. “I fell over a log in the Johnsons’ garden. That’s all.” There was no way I could tell her the bruise on my cheek was because Roland caught me taking money from his jacket pocket. I didn’t see him come from behind. I just felt the blow against the side of my face, his large hand sending my bony ass skidding across the wooden floors, hitting my head against the wall.

I wasn’t in the habit of stealing. But Ellie’s birthday was in three days, and I just needed five more dollars so I could buy her the ballerina music box she wanted. Every time we passed the gift shop, she’d stop and lean against the window, her tiny palms flat against the glass, staring at the wooden music box. Sometimes, the shop attendant would turn the windup key and open it so Ellie could watch the ballerina turn to the most annoying music. Part of me hated that attendant for making my little sister want that damn box even more, yet Ellie loved every second of watching the ballerina twirl.

Luckily, Roland only saw the ten-dollar bill I had swiped from his pocket, and not the other dollar bills I had shoved inside my underpants two minutes before he caught me.

I was able to go to the gift store and buy the music box which played the most annoying tune, and it was safely hidden away in my room, wrapped with a pretty little pink bow.

I glanced down at the living room one more time before closing my bedroom door, latching the handle with the old wooden chair so no one could come in.

Ellie jumped on my bed, the spring coils squeaking. “Please tell me you have chocolate.”

“Chocolate isn’t food, Ellie.” I opened my closet and fell to my knees, reaching all the way to the back and grabbing one of the old shoe boxes.

“You have a choice between canned chicken or beef jerky.”

Ellie’s face beamed. “Oh, that’s easy.”

“Beef jerky,” we both said at the same time, and I tossed her the packet, along with a granola bar.

“Don’t gobble it all down at once,” I said as she tore it open, shoving the beef jerky into her mouth. “Ellie!”

“I can’t help it,” she mumbled with a full mouth. “I’m just so hungry.”

A sharp pang ripped my chest. She was getting bigger, hungrier. Skinnier.

I glanced at the Twinkie still left in the box. I planned on giving it to her on her birthday, the closest thing she’d get to a birthday cake. But seeing her so damn hungry left me no choice but to give it to her.

“Here.” I placed it in front of her on the bed.

“A Twinkie?” Her eyes lit up, the tiny freckles moving as she wiggled her nose. “You got me a Twinkie?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s yours?” She glanced at the now empty box and back at me.

“I ate mine earlier,” I lied. If she knew I didn’t have one, she’d want to share hers.

“You dummy.” She slapped me on my shoulder. “You should have kept it so we could eat it together.”

I smiled. “Would you have been able to wait that long if you knew there was a Twinkie for you?”

She took a large bite. “Probably not. Do you think Mom will remember my birthday this year?”

I settled down next to her, knowing the bitter answer. “Maybe,” I lied again. But I didn’t have the heart to disappoint her yet. She had three more days to hope.

A sudden bang on the door had both of us on our feet.

“Where are you, you little mutts?” Roland yelled. “Get your bony fucking asses out here.” He tried opening the door, the handle rattling against the chair. “Open this motherfucking door.”

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