Page 6 of Beautiful Revenge

“You know I am. She’s my best friend,” he states, and I nod.

“Good. Then we’re doing this,” I say, moving toward the back door and coming to a stop when I see her sitting at the kitchen island.

She doesn’t look like my princess right now. She looks hollow and lifeless. And is that…?

“Is she covered in bruises?” Dyl hisses, and I growl.

“Looks that way, yeah,” I snarl, watching my princess just stare at the wall, unblinking. It’s like she isn’t even present in her own body.

“Briar!” We hear a man shouting from somewhere in the house. “Get your ass into the study right fucking now, girl!”

We watch as she flinches, a look of anger and sadness appearing on her face before she throws on a mask of indifference, stands up, and walks out of the kitchen.

“Come on,” I whisper, grabbing Dylan by the elbow and dragging him to the side of the house. If I remember correctly, this was where the study was when I first snooped.

I was only ten back then, but my memory isn’t that bad.

“Where are we going now?” he asks me. I think he’s worried we’ll get caught, but we won’t. I hope.

“To check on her.”

He doesn’t argue as we reach the window. The blinds are almost fully closed, but there’s enough of a crack for us to see Briar standing there.

“I miss her,” Dylan sniffles beside me, and I feel the anger rising again. I hate when my brother cries.

“I miss her too, dude,” I confess to him, turning my attention back to the princess.

“Are you going to do what I ask of you willingly, Briar?” the man all but shouts. I assume it’s her father, but she goes out of her way to never talk about him.

We can’t hear what she says to him, but the way he stands up before moving toward her has my back straightening, ready for a fight.

“Devon?” My brother nudges my side, but I shake my head. I can’t talk right now.

I watch as he looms over her, looking at her in a way I really don’t like. I don’t think it’s appropriate either. I’ve seen enough porn to recognize the look in his eyes, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. She said he hit her, not things like this. But maybe it hasn’t gotten that bad and won’t. Maybe I’m seeing things.

“Dev, please. What’s happening?” Dylan asks me again, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

“You don’t want to see this, Dyl,” I hiss, and he shakes a bit.

“See what?” he whispers, his voice breaking as a loud crack sounds through the window.

He pushes me out of the way, growling when he sees that her father just slapped her across the face, but that’s not what gets me.

Oh, it angers me more than I’ve ever felt in my life, but it’s the fact that she doesn’t react. She doesn’t show one bit of emotion after being hit, and that kills me.

“She can’t stay here,” Dylan spits out, and I get it.

“She’s only twelve, Dyl,” I remind him. “And we’re only fourteen. What do you propose we do?” I ask him, removing my eyes from the window to look at him.

“I don’t know! Why isn’t she fighting?” he asks, tears filling his eyes.

“Because she’s twelve years old, and he’s been hurting her for longer than we’ve known her. Remember?” I ask, the anger burning inside of me. “We need to go home. Mom is going to lose her shit if we aren’t back soon.”

“I don’t want to leave her,” he says, and I shake my head.

“Neither do I, Dyl, but we don’t have a choice right now. She’ll come back to us when she’s ready,” I whisper, sadness taking over as we make our way back to the house.

* * *

---