Page 19 of Sinister Legacy
“You might want to see the rest.”
Instead of pulling one out, I tip the envelope upside down. The contents spill onto my lap—too many photographs to count.
Mom looks away with her hand over her mouth.
I bite my lip so hard, I taste tangy blood in my mouth. The sharp pain is better than allowing this festering fear to take root. I can’t live my life fearing my own shadow.
I carefully pick up a photograph from the pile on my lap. It’s one of me fucking Liam in his car. It’s lucky I was fully clothed from the waist up. As it is, it looks like we’re kissing and nothing more.
Fear clogs my throat as I leaf through the photographs. Fear that one of these pictures might be of my stepdad fucking me.
Luckily, none of them are.
My dirty little secret remains buried for another day.
“Do you understand now why you need a police presence?”
I look up from a picture of me, fresh out of the shower and wrapped in a towel. It was taken through my bedroom window. “I understand.”
“Do you have any questions?”
I look at my mom, but she’s staring at a spot on the wall, her cheeks stained with mascara streaks.
“I… uh… Why is he doing this?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” His beeper goes off and he looks down at it, then back at me. “I have to go. Officer Riley and Officer Nash will be right outside.” To my mom, he says, “If you need anything, you have the contact details.”
After collecting the photographs, they file out.
I stare at nothing, my bones nearly breaking from my mom’s tight grip.
“It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” she says, but I know she’s trying to convince herself more than me. Rising to her feet, she smooths down her skirt. “I’ll… uh… I better get started with dinner.”
As she walks out, my tears fall. Sniffling pathetically, I wipe my cheeks. I hate being weak. I hate it even more when my stepdad is here to see me crack open.
He rises from the couch, and his shiny leather shoes come into view. His fingers grab my chin roughly, forcing my eyes to lock onto his cold ones. He pushes his thumb between my lips, and I suck it like the obedient girl I am when he looks at me like that.
Anything to take the pain away.
I have no doubt that if my mom weren’t clattering pans in the kitchen, he’d grab the nearest cushion and tell me to cover my face. And I would strip out of my pants, lie back with the flowery cushion over my mouth and nose, and spread my legs.
I would be his little whore.
He pulls his thumb from my mouth and walks away.
As I look out the window, I spot the cop car outside. The officers are sipping coffee from travel mugs.
This is my life now.
Just one long fucking nightmare that never seems to end.
I walk back to my room and shut the door behind me before throwing myself down onto my bed. It smells of fresh bedding. Mom must have changed it before the cops came knocking.
Staring up at the ceiling, I listen to the rain on the window. It’s coming down heavier now, punishing the glass.
With a sigh, I sweep my gaze around my room. The walls have been painted a deep purple and decorated with black-and-white photographs of gargoyles. The creepier they are, the better. It’s a weird thing to collect, and I don’t remember how it started. But I do recall Cassie sent me a photograph in the mail once when she visited Hamburg with her family. Ever since then, the collection has grown.
I dig my phone out of my jeans pocket, surprised to find a message waiting for me.
