Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“I used to hide,” I murmur. “In my closet.”
She’s quiet for a beat. “Did she find you?”
“Not there. But she always came back later. I couldn’t hide long enough.”
“Why do people do that?” Kaitlyn asks, voice ragged and aged for someone so small.
People.
Not just Vivienne.
“Because they’re bad,” I say firmly. “They like to hurt children for no reason.” I close my eyes for a beat but force out my next question. “Who all did that to you?”
I’m dreading the answer.
If she says Theo or Orion…or Caius.
“Gareth, er, Daddy,” she whispers. “He’s not my real dad, but I’m not supposed to talk about that.”
I swallow hard. “You can tell me anything. No one believed me when I was little. I want you to know that you have someone who believes you.”
“My real dad didn’t do it,” she explains, voice fierce and protective. “His medicine made him sick and he died. That’s why I scream when I get shots. I don’t want to die like he did.”
Tears prickle my eyes and I nod. Her way of explaining what seems to be a heroin overdose breaks my heart. “Makes sense.”
“After he died, I had to go live with some people because Mom was in jail. I don’t really remember her,” Kaitlyn says sadly. “My foster mother, Dorothy, told me jail was a good place for her.”
There’s probably some truth in that.
“Was Dorothy one of the people who…” I trail off, unable to say the words.
“No.” She looks down at her tiny hands, her thumb rubbing what looks like a cigarette burn scar. “Her husband, Jerry.”
I want to kill every last one of these people who hurt her—who hurt me.
“Why do they always come to my bed at night?” she asks, voice wobbly. “Is that why you’re in here?”
Shuddering at her words, I shake my head violently. “No. Never. In fact, I’m going to sleep on the sofa. You can lock this door if it makes you feel safer.”
She relaxes and nods. “Okay. I want to do that.”
“What about Gareth’s family? Did they ever do that to you?”
“No.”
Relief floods through me, but I want to be sure.
“Theo has watched you a lot lately. Has he ever touched you in ways you don’t like?”
“No.”
“And Caius? Has he?”
“No.”
“Orion?”
“No.”
I’m able to fully relax. “Anyone else?”
“Gareth, I mean, Daddy…” she trails off and turns her attention back to the television.
“You don’t have to call him Daddy. He’s dead. Gareth is fine.”
A small sob escapes her, crushing my heart into a million pieces.
“I miss my daddy, my real one.”
“I know you do, sweetie.” I ache to hold her and comfort her, but I know she needs her space. “Do you feel safe now that Gareth and Vivienne are gone?”
She turns her tear-streaked face toward me, nodding emphatically. “Yes.”
“Is there more you want to tell me about Gareth?”
We sit in silence as the show plays on in the background. I wait patiently for her to continue. Finally, she does.
“The others just touched me. He was worse.”
Bile creeps up my throat. “Worse how?”
Rather than answer, she slips out of bed and walks over to her backpack. I watch as she retrieves her Ken doll and Barbie. As she stands beside the bed, yanking off both their outfits in fierce determination to explain, I want to cry out in rage, forcing her to stop.
She smacks the Ken against the Barbie, their naked plastic bodies clattering together, and mimics obscene sounds. When she’s finished, she adopts a deep voice as Ken tells Barbie what a good girl she is and makes sick kissing sounds as she makes his head go down her body. Then she throws Ken across the room. Barbie sticks her head under the pillow and cries so quietly. My heart is officially broken.
If Gareth weren’t already dead, I’d kill that pedophile, rapist motherfucker myself.
I wake to a chirping of my phone.
Groggy and confused as to where I am, I reach my arm out toward the sound, fumbling until I find it. It’s been plugged in—probably thanks to my fake, but sometimes considerate boyfriend—and it takes a second for me to unplug it.
Many missed texts await me.
Theo: Last night was messed up. Call me when you get this.
After that one, there’s another one.
Caius: Spend what time you need with Kaitlyn. Take her to breakfast and shopping if you feel like it. Or order in room service. Just be ready for tonight.
I rub at my eyes, taking in the suite I’m in. The bedroom door where Kaitlyn sleeps is locked and I crashed on the couch as promised. My nightmares were more memories than anything, brought up by the revelation I’d come to last night at Dad’s. Because of my terrible dreams, I feel as if I’ve barely slept.
Once I sit up, I yawn and force myself to reply back to Caius even though I want to go back to sleep.