Page 11 of Fury

“Stop asking so many questions,” I reply, exasperated.

“Okay you two,” Bonnie steps in. “I think that’s enough. Fury, you’re going to pay her because she’s not your damned slave. Alexis, thank you for bringing Hope here to us. It’s nice that someone cares about her.”

Fury shoots her another warning glare.

She ignores him.

His eyes move to the little girl in front of the television, and, for a moment, something flashes across them. Is it that he doesn’t know how to take care of a child, or that he doesn’t want to because he’s afraid of just how much he might care for her?

“C’mon, kid. Time to go,” he calls.

Hope stands without argument, walking over to him. Looking up at her uncle, she stretches out her hand. For a moment, he hesitates, but eventually he reaches out and curls his big hand around hers. Something inside of me melts a little. I hate that such a simple moment causes such a huge reaction inside me. Maybe it’s the realization that I’ll never have kids, and I’ll never see the man I love with our child, loving him or her. Not because I can’t have them, but because I’ll never fall in love again.

I’m forever bound to a monster who will never allow me the kind of life I dream of.

“I have to go,” I say, quickly.

Emotions are a tricky thing, and, for me, they can creep up at the worst moments.

Waving a quick goodbye, I rush toward the door.

Fury reaches out and takes my arm, murmuring, “Wait.”

It’s innocent in every sense of the word, but the moment his fingers grip my flesh, my body goes into immediate protection mode. Jerking my arm away with a yelp, I take two quick steps back, my chest rising and falling as panic grips my chest. It’s an extreme reaction for such a small gesture, and the moment I focus on all the eyes that are now set on me, I know I just gave away a huge part of myself.

“Sorry,” I say, quickly. “I, ah, I have to go.”

I get the hell out of there before anyone has the chance to ask questions.

Because they’re questions I simply cannot answer.

“I DIDN’T ... I DIDN’T mean to.”

With trembling hands, I stare over the edge at my friend who is lying below, blood pouring from her head. I don’t know it for certain, but deep in my bones, I feel she’s dead. She isn’t moving, and her eyes appear open, staring into nothing. Vomit rises in my throat as panic grips my chest and every inch of me begins to shake as fear takes over.

I didn’t do it on purpose.

I didn’t ...

I tried to climb down, but I couldn’t do it without falling. Crying hysterically, I kept murmuring that I didn’t mean to, over and over, as I look down at her.

“What have you done?” Ethan’s voice is scarily calm, considering the situation. “How could you do this to her?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s not what I saw. You pushed her.”

What is he talking about?

Turning to face him, I see him lowering his phone.

He was recording me. Recording. Me. What the fuck? Panic grips my chest as I shake my head from side to side. What sort of monster ...

His eyes are stone-cold and emotionless. “From where I stand, you did.”

What is he doing?

Is this some sort of joke?

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