Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“I heard it all. I chose to fixate on that.”
“Well, she’s deluded as always. Because I haven’t popped out a kid or screwed Fisher to pay her debt, I’m a saint.” Moving around the room, she puts shit away as she rants. “What’s worse is she acts like I think I’m better than everyone. Those are her thoughts, not mine.”
“You are better than her. She’s a waste of air, Ruby. I know she’s your mom, but sometimes you have to cut the poison out or it will kill you.” That’s something someone might have to do for her before it’s too late.
Halting her movements, she looks down at her mother then to me, “She wouldn’t make it without me.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” I grunt, checking the work she’s done on my wounds. It’s neater than mine.
“That’s cold, Ezekiel, like her. I’m just not made that way.”
“It’s the truth. And the way she’s going, she forces you to be that way in the end.”
“I’m hungry,” she changes the subject. “I’ll check the freezer and see if Lily’s grandparents left anything in there.”
“Food sounds good.” I let it go for now but will re-visit when she’s ready to hear it.
I’m starving and confident she’s going to find food in there. I just hope she can cook.
Chapter Eleven
Ruby
Opening the fridge, I cringe as the smell of mold hits my nostrils. Why didn’t they clear out the food before they left? Maybe they aren’t expecting to be gone long. Maybe we should find somewhere else to lie low…unless they just forgot. Either way, it’s going to smell worse than it already does by the time they come back. I should clear it for them. It’s the least I can do. And keeping myself busy stops the thoughts from running rampant.
With what Ezekiel was saying about mom…he would kill her without a thought if I told him it was okay. Killing those men today was like second nature to him. And what he said about the royal bastards all being killers earlier, did he mean that or was he just generalizing? My brother isn’t a saint…but a murderer?
“Oh, pizza,” I say as I open the freezer, well aware my mind jumps from one emotion to the next in a heartbeat. Pizza is better than moldy bread and bad eggs. I learned how to cook pizza at a young age since my mom would get high and try to make me eat it straight from the freezer.
“You okay in there?” Ezekiel calls out from the living room, a slight strain in his voice.
“I found pizza,” I shout back, turning the oven on and slipping it in.
“I could eat pizza,” he calls back, and I smile.
Searching the cupboards, I locate trash bags and get to work at emptying their fridge. I should call Lily and make sure she stays away from here. She could show up for a change of clothes or to throw a party while the wardens are away if she’s anything like I was at eighteen. I’m not worried about what Ezekiel said about Fisher tracking down my family. We all have different last names, and no one really knows about our joined lives…except Mom. Dammit, what if she told them I have a sister and brother? No, no way she would mention Jameson. She’s more scared of him than she is of Fisher, and she’s too selfish to know Lily goes by a different last name and is Jameson’s sister too. She wouldn’t risk his wrath. The only reason she risks it with my life is she knows I’ll never tell him. The timer on the oven dings just as I finish cleaning the mess. The hot cheese and sauce of the pizza makes my stomach growl as I slice into it and rummage through the cabinets for something to put it on.
I place Ezekiel’s plate down on the coffee table then help him to a sitting position. “There were frozen pizzas in the freezer. They didn’t clear their fridge out, though. They must have thought Lily would be coming and going. The milk’s sour, but they had wine.” I hold it up like the prize it is and do a little victory dance, swaying my hips while waving my hands around. I’m going to have to send Lily’s grandparents an apology note and a restock of what we’ve stolen.
“I don’t drink wine,” he announces, watching me with a narrowed stare. An image of him drinking from a wine glass floats through my head, and I smirk to myself.
“Well, I do.” I kiss the bottle. “More for me.” I need it after everything we went through today. Just to take the edge off and quiet the mind.
“We should keep a straight head,” he says, eyes trained on the wine. He sounds like Jameson.