Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I’ll be fucked.
Instead there’s an ugly shriek from inside the house, like a bat getting stabbed with a fork.
The woman stubs out her cigarette and hurries back inside.
I instantly start climbing again, sweat slicking my hands. My shoulders and wrists tremble, but I make it to the porch roof. I hop off, scurry across, and reach a window. It’s locked, but I brought a thin metal tool that easily fits under the sill. I use some force to get the latch undone and find myself falling in face-first and landing on a plush carpet.
Guest room. Clean bed. Lots of floral accents. I leave the window open—I’ve learned too many times that a quick escape is usually necessary and I don’t want to be fumbling while trying to run. There’s another shriek from downstairs and I hurry to the door, cracking it open—
Right as that same woman walks past.
She’s not paying attention. I resist the urge to slam the door shut, but that would only draw her eye. Instead, I hear her soft but insistent voice, muttering something about following her and a problem in the parlor. Moments later, she’s walking past again, this time with Mr. Davis on her heels.
I grin to myself. God damn Tallie. I knew she was a dream, but this is even better than I could’ve envisioned. I don’t know exactly what she’s saying down there, but she’s clearly selling the story, and that’s all I need.
Once the hallways empty, I sneak into the house.
Tallie
“DICKY! GET DOWN HERE!” Mrs. Davis’s shrill shriek leaves my ears ringing as I sob into my hands. Sweat rolls down my back and I’m not sure if it’s nerves or how damn hot this house is. “There, there, it’ll be okay—DICKY! GET DOWN—“
“Is something wrong, misses?” Patricia’s voice, sounding surprisingly calm considering her employer is screaming like a dying cat and I’m crying like a baby.
“Get my husband right now, if you please.” Mrs. Davis rubs my back like she’s barely paying any attention. “Darling, darling, it’s okay, you’re okay. You can talk to me. Tell me… what did Peter do?”
“He… he…” Does she really expect me to explain how sex works, for fuck’s sake? “We were drinking… it was a horrible mistake!”
“There, there. Now, he didn’t… you know, darling, how men can be sometimes.”
I look up, too surprised to keep acting. “What are you talking about?”
Mrs. Davis wrings her hands together. “Did he hurt you, love? It’s just that, Peter, when that boy gets to drinking… sometimes he does things…” She trails off absently looking at the carpet.
My sweet Jesus in heaven. It hits me like a bomb. She’s probably been fixing her psycho grandson’s mistakes for years.
A crying pregnant girl might be a relief, if what she’s saying is true…
And definitely something I can use against them.
“Oh God!” I redouble my sobbing, shoulders shaking. Annie would be proud. I’m crying too—it’s a gift. “He was a beast! I didn’t want to say, I’m so embarrassed, but I have pictures of the bruises he left on my throat!”
Mrs. Davis lets out a bored sigh. “There, there, now, you’ll be alright… photos you say? How many? And are they only on your phone?”
This woman is truly a monster.
“It was horrible! It was so horrible!” I sob and sob and Mrs. Davis makes soft cooing noises like I’m a broken baby bird until the door opens and Mr. Davis makes his appearance. He’s wearing that disturbing reptile smirk as he sits on my other side.
“Now, what’s happening, darling? Is that Tallie Sarkissian? My dear, it’s wonderful to see you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”
“It’s Peter again,” Mrs. Davis hisses. “She says she’s pregnant. He got rough with her. And there are pictures this time.”
“Oh dear, that’s definitely not good.”
I swear, I don’t think there are worse people on the face of this earth. Not only are they rich arms dealers, but they’re both clearly psychopaths.
I sniffle and rub my eyes, giving Mr. Davis my most pathetic smile. “I’m sorry to bother you, I just didn’t know what else to do. I was terrified that if I went to Peter, he’d… you know, he’d—“ I start moaning like I’m going to cry again.
“No, no, you did the right thing.” Mr. Davis leaps to his feet and grabs tissues. He all but throws them at me. “Coming to us was the right idea, Tallie. I know your father would be proud of you right now.”
Talking about my father is a new low, but I nod like I agree. “Papa always had a soft spot for you two. He always says you’re good, reasonable people.”
“Yes, darling, we’re very reasonable,” Mrs. Davis agrees quickly. “We want to help you, darling. I know you’re in such a bad position—“
“Terrible position,” Mr. Davis adds.
“And we’re sympathetic. Very, very sympathetic.” Mrs. Davis rubs my back some more and I want to puke in my own mouth. “What can we do, darling? How can we fix this?”