Page 57 of Queen Rose

Aria

Icringe as the garage door goes up, making more noise than I remember it making. If ever there was a time for me to be able to sneak into the house, this would be it. Who knows what Conner said to Dad after pounding on my door earlier. That’s if my parents were even home when he did that, because I sure hadn’t seen them around. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, remembering the way Conner had shouted like a fucking crazy person through the door. He’s never done anything like that before, and I have no idea what would’ve caused it. Thank God for Franny. If she hadn’t been there, I think he would have found a way in. It’s not like he’s never picked my lock before. He’d have found Nate with me. And then who knows what he would’ve done to me.

In the back of my mind, I know. He would have waited for the perfect moment to strike. He still might. That thought makes terror skate down my spine and pushes me toward a meltdown. My heart jams itself in my throat, and I clutch the steering wheel hard, seeking stability, and slam my eyes shut again. No. I can’t lose it right now. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.

Forcing my eyes open, I suck in a breath and stare blankly ahead of me. Aside from Conner, there’s Dad. If he found out Nate had been here, he’ll be furious. End of story.

Come on girl, get a grip. I pull into the garage and discover neither of my parents’ cars are here. Conner’s hadn’t been in the driveway, either. Franny would be in her room at this hour, so I pretty much have the house to myself. That doesn’t mean I’m not still on edge; it only means I feel no imminent danger of anyone attacking me for my choices.

In the kitchen, feeling both rebellious and a little in need of comfort, I make myself a decadent cup of hot chocolate—something my mother looks down on me for enjoying. It’d really piss her off if she knew I was going to take my drink upstairs and have it with some of the chocolates Nate brought me earlier. Hot chocolate and chocolate. All. At. Once. The horror.

Sipping the hot beverage, I head up the back stairs and directly down the hall to my room. As I approach, something jangles at my nerves that I can’t quite figure out and my pace slows. My heart rate ratchets up a notch as my gaze drifts to my door. It’s standing part way open.

Tilting my head to the side, I realize it’s doubly odd because I know for a fact it was closed when Nate and I left. I’d taken the time to unlock it before we took off over the balcony so I could get back in easily. I definitely hadn’t left it hanging open like this. Someone’s been in my room.

My skin prickles, unease settling over me. I swallow and nudge the door open further with my foot.

Something’s not right. My heart misses a beat and thuds harshly in my chest. Blinking, I notice something on the bed. My forehead creases, and I reach for the switch on the wall to flick on the overhead light.

My breath catches in my throat, and, as if in slow motion, the hot chocolate slips from my hand, hitting the hardwood floor, splashing all over my legs. It hurts.

I scream. Raw, anguished sounds tear from my throat and burn my lungs. But I’m not screaming about the hot chocolate.

Aunt Christina lies sideways across my bed, naked from the waist down. The rest of her clothing is askew. Her face is swollen, and she stares at me with unseeing eyes. They bulge from the sockets, the blood vessels in them broken and making her eyes look red.

I run to the bathroom and vomit up all the hot dogs, french fries, and Twizzlers I’d eaten earlier with Nate’s family. And after my stomach empties, I continue to gag and dry heave and wail. This scene will be forever etched in my memory.

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