SWNOVELS Hideaway: Chapter 7
Present
“I’m not part of the deal.” I stared at Gabriel sitting on the other side of his desk. “You can send Lev or David or anyone else to work for him.”
“Yes…” My father laughed under his breath, puffs of his cigar smoke escaping before he blew the rest out. “Because that’s exactly what he wants you for, isn’t it? To clean toilets in his dojo and to chauffeur his ass around.”
I tipped my chin up at his sarcasm. “He doesn’t want me for…” I breathed out, hesitating. “For that. And if he does, he’s not getting it.”
Kai might very well want me to wait on him hand and foot, but my father had other ideas. In his head, if Kai was demanding me in particular then he wanted me for nothing less than a little fun.
And he wasn’t fucking getting it.
Gabriel didn’t know that I’d met Kai before. Gabriel didn’t know that I’d already played Kai’s version of fun. I refused to be his tool. Or his toy.
“You’ll do what you have to do,” he told me.
“I won’t—”
“You’ll do exactly as you’re told!”
Every muscle tensed, and I locked my jaw together, shutting up. A sudden light sweat covered my forehead where my hat sat.
Damon.
This was all for Damon. He was the only reason I stayed in this house. Remember the end game. Find him, get him home, and keep Kai and the rest of those pricks away from him.
My father’s dead eyes stared off, barely paying me any mind now. Kai was right about one thing. I was only as valuable as what I was good for to Gabriel Torrance. I knew it the moment I’d left Kai’s office tonight at the dojo. I knew it when I stepped into this office an hour later. I always knew my value here.
A woman wasn’t good for much in this house, so I did everything I could to make my father and brother forget that I was one.
Gabriel rose from his seat and slowly walked around his desk, the night wind howling outside his office windows. Coming to stand in front of me, he leaned back on his desk, slightly more relaxed as he offered me a patronizing look. “You’ve been useful,” he said, blowing out smoke and turning to set the cigar down in the ashtray. “You’re smart, and it took a long time for you to earn my trust, but you did. I know I can count on you. Your entire world is Damon.”
Even though it was true, it wasn’t flattering to hear. My brother was my world. But while I loved him more than I loved anything else in my entire life, I hated the way my father said it.
Like I was Damon’s pet dog.
“But now,” Gabriel continued, “you have an opportunity to prove yourself invaluable. Irreplaceable.”
Important.
Despite my hatred of my father, my loathing of Kai Mori, Michael Crist, Will Grayson, and Erika Fane, I couldn’t help the shred of pride that seeped in.
I was irreplaceable. If my father didn’t see that yet, he would. Even if it’s the last thing he ever sees.
Gabriel inhaled a deep breath and stood up, his expression turning somewhat pleasant.
“This is actually perfect,” he said as he walked back around his desk, sounding almost chipper. “You’ll be able to keep an eye on him. You’ll get his house ready for Vanessa when she arrives. You’ll spend time at the dojo, working for him, training, whatever… You’ll be where he is and let me know if there’s anything I should worry about. With him or the rest of those little cunts.” He picked up his cigar and took a few puffs. “And if you’re brother comes out of hiding and provokes them again, you’ll protect him. Right?”
I averted my gaze. Of course, I would. I always did. But I didn’t want to do this. I couldn’t be around Kai every day.
Anger boiled under my skin.
I could argue. I could even leave. I didn’t love my father, and I was probably better off for it.
But I could best protect Damon with a seat at the table, and if I left I had nothing, goddammit. He needed me. Whether or not my father ever admitted it, he knew that.
When Damon got arrested in college and was sent to prison, I was on top of the situation before Gabriel. I bought all the muscle I could on the inside to make sure no one touched my brother, and when he got out last year, I cleaned up all of his messes. And whenever our father tried to rein him in and he couldn’t be controlled, I did what I always did. I exhausted my older brother and broke him until he collapsed and all the anger was gone. For a while anyway. It always came back.
Damon, Gabriel’s only son and sole heir, was only at his best when he had me taking care of him. Only when my brother had his keeper.
Gabriel stood there, looking at me with a rare interest all of a sudden. “How many men have you been with?” he asked.
I remained silent and steady, but my patience was getting harder to muster. How many men have I been with… Jesus.
My father came back around the desk to me, crowding my space and forcing me to look at him. I raised my stare, not bothering to hide the distaste in it.
“Do you know how to fuck?” he demanded plainly, getting to the point. “Do you know how to please him?”
Him.
Kai.
My insides shrunk, and I jerked out of his grasp, looking away again.
But he didn’t relent. He slowly pulled my hat off, letting it fall to the ground, and began unbuttoning my jacket. A jolt of fear hit me, but I didn’t fight, and I didn’t resist. I watched him through the long, dark strands now hanging over my face.
My father had never touched me, but I knew the reason most likely had nothing to do with the fact that I was his daughter and more to do with the fact that Damon didn’t want anyone touching me.
He pulled the jacket down my arms, and I sucked in a quick breath as he pushed my hair out of my eyes, the smell of diesel in the strands from working on one of the trucks earlier today drifting into my nose.
His fingers ran down my skin, and he sat back, studying me, tipping up my chin to take in my face like he hadn’t seen me nearly every day for the last eleven years.
He circled me, his hand drifting around my waist, and I ground my teeth as he lifted Damon’s old T-shirt to look at my stomach. He let it fall back down and his eyes came to rest on my chest, nodding in approval.
“You’re not still a virgin, are you?” he asked, probably suspicious when I didn’t answer. “I mean, Damon took care of that a long time ago, right?”
Bile rose up, swelling my throat, and I pushed his hands away. “You’re disgusting,” I gritted out, my eyes burning with tears.
How could he be so vile?
But he just laughed me off and walked back around his desk. “That boy would fuck a brick if it was wet enough. Don’t think we all didn’t know what was going on up in that tower.”
I could feel the tears springing up, but I just snarled and snatched my jacket off the ground and charged from the room.
My stomach churned with the prospect of what he expected from me. I could shoot, I could fight, I could convince every man in town to spend a thousand dollars on a twenty-dollar whore if I wanted to…. But I would not be turned over from one man to another like I’m chattel to be gifted at will. I was more. I was invaluable. This was my home.
I didn’t want to be around Kai Mori or his friends.
Swinging around the corner, I bolted up the stairs, hearing David’s voice coming from below. “Banks, I need to talk to you.”
“Later.”
I ran up to the second level, skipping stairs, and dug in my heels as I turned a corner and headed for the dark wooden door to my right. Taking my key out of my pocket, I unlocked the dead bolt and opened it.
I walked in, the soft glow of the wall sconces lighting another set of stairs as I closed the door and turned the lock again. Jogging up the second flight, I came right into a circular-shaped bedroom, the only room on the third floor.
Walking across the shiny hardwood floors, I unlocked the window and softly pushed open both panes of glass. The unusually warm October evening was made just a little crisper by the sudden winds, and I closed my eyes, inhaling the smell of earth and burning leaves carried on the breeze.
My skin started to buzz, and I already felt better. This room was another world. Our world. Damon’s and mine.
Leaving the window open, I walked across the room and opened the laptop, clicking on a playlist. Like a Nightmare began playing, and then I leaned over the bed, picking up a pillow.
Raising it to my nose, I inhaled, the faintest hint of fabric softener making my nostrils tingle. I knew I wouldn’t smell my brother’s scent on it, but I was disappointed anyway. I’d gone without him long enough. I was tired of being alone.
The bedding was new—I’d replaced it several months ago, and I cleaned the room regularly, just to make sure it was spotless if he ever showed up. But even though he hadn’t slept here in over a year, I still hoped every time I stepped foot in here that I would find some evidence he’d been home.
I placed the pillow back in its spot, the blacks, whites, and grays of the bedding crisp and perfect as I pulled the corners of the pillow, taking out the wrinkles.
Everything had to be perfect.
Gazing around the room, I took in the pristine floors, the dark walls and gold sconces, the black and white photos he’d hung up in high school…. Women and legs and glowing skin, not distasteful really but sex, nonetheless.
I didn’t like looking at them.
And then, raising my eyes, I looked toward another small set of stairs in the corner of the room. Shrouded in shadow, the flight led to the “tower” as we called it, a small alcove with an even smaller landing at the top. It was surrounded by windows, almost like a lighthouse up there, where you could see over the trees outside for miles. That was my space. When I lived here.
It still housed my mattress, a lamp, and a few clothes, just in case I ever needed it again. Not that I ever used it much anyway, even when I lived here. Damon kept me close.
I walked toward the window again, and planted myself against the wall next to the window, sliding down it until I rested on the floor. Taking my hair, I wound it around and around like a rope and twisted it up on top of my head before pulling out my hat and covering my hair again.
I let my shoulders finally fall, and I closed my eyes, safe in the knowledge that no one could see me right now.
Not that I was seen much, anyway.
But I did like to watch other people. Kind of like Kai did.
A long time ago, I watched him from a distance, part of me wanting him so much. I thought he was good.
Loyal. Beautiful.
But he could be scarier than Damon.
And my brother, Damon Torrance, had been a nightmare since the first time I met him. An exquisite nightmare.
“Pull up your sock,” my mom orders as she slams the passenger side door.
I bend over and pull up my dingy knee-high, both of us standing next to our car parked outside a big, black gate. It’s open, and cars have been streaming in steadily. Mom said there was a party going on today. It was a good time to see him.
“Remember what I told you.” She pulls me up, buttoning the top button of my cardigan and straightening my blouse underneath. I look away, impatient. I’m twelve, and she has me dressed like a five-year-old.
“If he starts being mean,” she continues, her voice shaking as much as her hands, “you need to help me, okay? Tell him we need money. If we don’t get help, Nik, you’re going to have to leave the apartment, your bedroom, and all your stuff. You’ll be sleeping in strangers’ houses. And they could take you away from me.” She grasps my shoulders, breathing hard. “You want to go home tonight, right?”
I nod.
“Then smile pretty,” Jake, her boyfriend, yells out at me from the driver’s seat through the open window.
Yeah, smile pretty. Be nice to someone who’s never been nice to me. Who’s never wanted to meet me. My stomach keeps churning, and I can’t fist my fingers. I feel weak.
“Hurry up, Luce,” he says to my mom.
I know why he wants us to hurry up and what he wanted money for. Both of them. Of course, if we were lucky enough to get anything, I’d get fed and maybe some used clothes and shoes. My socks were so old they didn’t fit right, and I’d been washing my hair with bar soap for a month now.
But they’ll just party with the rest. Every time we have any money, it’s gone before we’ve had a chance to exhale.
My mother takes my hand, and I follow her through the gates and down the long driveway. Looking around, my heart instantly aches. It’s so beautiful here. Acres of green on both sides of the black drive, trees and bushes and the smell of flowers…God, what would it be like to just go out there and run? To do cartwheels and climb the red oaks and have picnics in the rain?
Looking ahead, I spot the house, the white stone stunning against the blue sky. Cars circle the driveway, and splashes of red lie around the house, which I guess must be rose bushes, though I’m not yet close enough to see.
But the closer we get, the more unnerved I become. I want to dig in my heels and stop. I want to turn around and say, “I’ll rip off food from the Shop-and-Go down the street from our apartment if I have to.” I’ve done it before. We needed milk and cereal, and my mom asked me to get it. If I got caught shoplifting, as a minor I wouldn’t get in as much trouble as she would.
We head up to the house, and she stops me just before we get to the door. She squats down, her long coat the only nice thing she has to cover up her cheap clothes.
She holds my shoulders and looks up at me, her eyes sad. “I’m sorry,” she says. “These are things kids shouldn’t have to go through. I know that.” She looks around, tearing up and looking desperate. “I wish you knew how much I want you to have everything. You deserve everything, you know that, right?”
I just stare at her, my eyes starting to water. My mom is a mess, she doesn’t always put me first, and I hate the positions I’m put in sometimes, but…I know she loves me. Not that it always feels like enough, but I know she tries.
“I wish I could take you away and buy us a house like this,” she says wistfully, “and all you would ever do is smile.” She stands up, brushing the wrinkles out of her coat. “It kills me that his little shit of a son gets everything he wants and you get nothing.”
Damon. My father’s son. The only child he claimed.
She’d only mentioned him a few times, not that she’d ever met him. He had just been born when my mom got pregnant with me, but we’d heard enough over time. He’s supposed to be kind of trouble.
She takes my hand again and leads me to the front door where a servant is holding it open, greeting guests as they enter.
A woman in a sparkly dress looks down at me, narrowing her eyes and taking in my clothes. I quickly look away.
People enter the house, and we follow, but the man at the door puts his hand on my mother’s shoulder. “Excuse me. Who are you?”
“I need to see Gabriel.”
The man, who’s wearing a white waistcoat, moves in front of her, blocking her way.
I peek around him, seeing all the fancy people in suits and dresses walking through a door to the back of the house.
“Mr. Torrance is entertaining guests right now,” he tells her.
My mother puts her arm around me, replying flatly, “This is his kid, and if I don’t see him now, I’m going to run through your quaint little village here in Thunder Bay and shout it to the world.”
The man purses his lips, and I notice a few people around us turn to look. I cringe on the inside. Would Gabriel even care if she did that?
The servant nods to the man standing next to the wall, and he walks over. My heart races, watching him pat my mother down.
But then the burly guard finishes with her and steps over to me, running his hands down my arms. I jerk, and my mother pulls me away.
“Keep your hands off her,” she demands.
I shake and move into her, hiding as much as possible.
“Follow me,” the servant who’d opened the door says. He leads my mother and me through the house, and I look around, noticing a library, a den, and some kind of sitting room. Everything is dark, and nearly everything is made of wood: the stairs, the furniture, some of the walls…. We pass by the staircase, and my eye catches a figure standing at the top. I look up.
A boy stands there, leaning on the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest. He stares at us, his eyes following me as I pass by. He has dark hair like mine, but his eyes are darker, narrow and calm. But something in his look makes me shrink. Is that him?
“Wait here,” the man says.
My mother and I stop outside a door, while the older man rounds a corner.
My mom takes my hand and holds it with both hands. She did the same thing a couple years ago when CPS came to our house and also on the rare occasion I had a pushy teacher who went the extra mile to convince her to come to parent-teacher conferences. She’s nervous.
I hear hard footsteps hit the floor. My heart starts beating in my throat, and I stop breathing for a moment.
A shadow falls on the ground, and I look up, seeing a tall, well-dressed man charge around the corner.
Graying black hair, beautiful black suit and shirt, shiny shoes…I stare up at him wide-eyed, my breath caught in my throat at his strong scent, a mixture of cologne and tobacco.
He gets in my mom’s face, his voice sounding so mean that my hands start to shake.
“You know what’s more tragic than a poor junkie whore?” he bites out at her. “A dead, poor junkie whore.”
And then he looks down at me. “Sit,” he orders. “Now.”
I take a shallow breath—it’s all I can force in—and drop to the bench, fidgeting with my hands. He pushes my mother through the door, and I see a desk and some books before he closes it.
Oh, God. What the hell? He’s so mean. Why? I know my mom can be trouble, and she’s embarrassing, even to me sometimes, but I haven’t done anything.
I blink away the tears that spring up all of a sudden. I don’t want to be here. These people are awful. My mom said my dad owns a media company and sits on the boards of others—whatever that means—but there’s also other things he does. She had worked for him, but she wouldn’t tell me what she did.
I just want to leave. I don’t want anything to do with him, and I don’t want to know anything more.
Movement catches my eye, and I look up to see the dark-eyed boy coming down the hallway. He looks relaxed, holding a green bottle by the neck and stopping at the entryway, leaning on the wall as he stares at me.
I lick my lips, feeling every hair on my arms stand up. I avert my eyes, embarrassed, but they keep coming back to him.
His black pants and leather shoes look like someone tried to dress him up, but his white shirt is partially untucked, and his sleeves are rolled up. His hair is combed, though, and I notice how thin his gaze is on me, as well as the striking arch of his dark eyebrows. I have the same arches, and my mom says they make the green of my eyes so piercing, but it does the same for his dark ones, too.
He takes a swig from the bottle—some kind of beer, I think, but he doesn’t look much older than me.
I hear a muffled argument from behind the door and look over at him again. My father seemed to know who I am. Does this boy?
“Are you my brother?” I ask.
His lips lift in slight amusement, and he doesn’t look the least bit shocked at my question.
Walking over to me, he stops, his legs hitting mine as he tips the bottle back, downing the rest of the drink. I watch the lump go up and down in his throat before he turns it over, stabbing the neck into the soil of the potted plant on the table.
He leans down, one hand planted on the wall above my head and the other one caressing my face. I rear back, but I have nowhere to go.
The beer on his breath hits my nose as he gets closer, and I feel a cool sweat break out on my neck. Is he going to kiss me?
His mouth hovers inches from mine, and he looks into my eyes. “Do you like snakes?”
Snakes? What?
I shake my head.
A spark of something flashes in his eyes, and he suddenly stands up, taking my hand. “Come on.”
He pulls me off the bench, and I stumble after him.
“No, wait,” I say. “I think I’m supposed to wait for my mom. I don’t want her to be mad.”
But he just keeps going, dragging me up the stairs, and I don’t fight. If I do, he might be mad, too. And if I make him mad, it could make my father madder.
He pulls me after him, his hold on my wrist making the skin burn a little as he rushes us around the bannister at the top of the stairs. Heading toward the end of the hall, he opens a door and pulls me through. I’m suddenly in darkness with only a small glow above. My heart is beating so hard I feel nauseous. Where are we?
The boy pulls me, and I follow, but my foot catches on something, and I stumble. I grab the back of his shirt to keep myself from falling, and I realize I’m on stairs. He continues up, and I grab the wall, trying to steady myself as I scale the steep incline. There’s a third floor to the house?
We come up to the top, and he opens another door, shoving me through. Chills spread down my skin, and I whimper under my breath, suddenly scared. What if my mom can’t find me? What if my father makes her leave, even without me? Why am I up here?
Will he let me leave?
I pull my sleeves down over my hands, fidgeting again, and glance around quickly. The messy room has a large, unmade bed, posters all over the walls, and some heavy metal song about wanting to “go to hell” playing on speakers I can’t see.
I inhale through my nose and catch the subtle odor of cigarettes.
As he heads over to his computer and turns down the music, I’m unable to stop the fear, but I also feel a sliver of admiration. Damon’s only supposed to be thirteen, and he’s drinking and smoking? He can do whatever he wants. Like an adult.
He turns around and crooks his finger at me, and despite how worried I am, I don’t dare refuse.
He takes my hand and leads me over to a long, wooden dresser, and I notice two fish tanks on top. One has sand with a large branch and a water pool, and in the other one there’s mulch with leaves and more branches. In the left one, I see a red, black, and yellow striped snake.
My heart skips a beat. That’s why he brought me up here.
“This is Volos,” he says. “And this is Kore.” He points out the white snake in the other tank, hidden inside a burrowed log. I look hesitantly, seeing the red splotches on its skin.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, worried that he’s going to remove them from their cages.
“Do they…bite?” I ask.
He looks down at me. “All animals bite when they’re provoked.”
I lean down, looking through the glass. Hopefully, if I show interest, he won’t want to try to scare me by taking them out.
Their tanks are large, lots of room to move, and they look clean. The snakes lie still.
“Wouldn’t they like to be together?”
“They’re not puppies,” he retorts. “They’re wild animals. They don’t play well with others, and they don’t like company. They don’t make friends.”
He removes the top of the cage on the left, and I immediately take a step back. No.
“If one of them gets aggravated or stressed,” he says, reaching in and picking up the red, black, and yellow one, “it’ll eat the other one.”
Damon pulls out both hands, the snake coiled through his fingers, and he turns to me, the snake inches from my body.
I scurry back, and he walks toward me, laughing. “How could you think I’m your brother? Look how scared you are.”
He shoves the snake in my face, and I scream, my back hitting the wall.
“No, I don’t like—”
“Shut your mouth,” he growls, grabbing for my hands with his free one.
I struggle, trying to get away from him, but his body pins me to the wall as he holds the snake with one hand and gets my wrists in a lock with the other. Pushing them over my head, he pins my hands to the wall, and I start tearing up, my chest filling with dread.
“No, no, please…”
“Shut up.”
I twist my head back and forth, squeezing my eyes shut as he holds me there.
“Do you know who I am?” he asks.
My breathing shakes, and I don’t want to open my eyes. Then, something touches my cheek, and I jerk.
“Stay still or he’ll bite.”
I pant, instantly stilling every muscle.
“Please,” I whisper, begging.
But I don’t move. The touch comes back, and it’s smooth, like water. Oh, God. Please.
“Look at me,” he says.
My lungs empty, and I hesitate. But slowly, I peel my eyes open.
I see a red, black, and yellow blur in front of me, and shake with a cry. He’s holding it to my face. I feel its tongue flit over my skin, and I start breathing fast, my chest racing up and down faster than my heart.
“Shhh…” Damon says soothingly.
I force myself to raise my eyes to him, and all of a sudden…my breathing starts to slow. He’s piercing me with his eyes—which I see now are more black than brown—and I’m locked in.
“Look at them out there,” he tells me, turning his head toward the window to my left.
I follow his gaze, slowly turning my head away from the snake to see men in black skulking on the lawn, two valets in white waistcoats, and a man and woman exiting a shiny black car.
“When I come on the scene, they all fucking look away,” he whispers, staring outside. “When I speak to them, their voices shake. They don’t even let their wives, girlfriends, or daughters come around if they know I’m home.”
I pinch my eyebrows together in confusion. Who’s he talking about? The servants? Or the guests?
“I know everything, everyone does what I want, and everyone is afraid of me,” he continues, and then turns his eyes on me, “and money doesn’t buy that. Money and power don’t go hand in hand. Power comes from having the guts to do what others won’t.”
He drags the snake’s body over my mouth, and I gasp, jerking away again.
“You’re nothing like me,” he snarls in a low voice. “A dirty, little nothing. A mistake.”
He releases me and steps back, and I quickly wipe away the tears that spilled over my lids.
He turns around and sits down in a deep, cushioned chair, petting his snake. “Don’t let your mom come back here again, you understand?” he orders, pinning me with a look. “Or I’ll lock you in a closet with Volos.”
I run for the door and grab the handle, but my hand shakes so hard I can’t turn it. “It’s not my fault,” I blurt out, turning my head toward him. “That my mom had me. Why would you want to hurt me?”
“You’re not special.” He raises Volos and looks at him, acting like I’m not even here. “There are lots of people I want to hurt. And maybe I will someday…when I figure out the best way to get rid of a body.”
He gives a half-grin, acting like he’s joking, but I’m not sure he is.
“I am special,” I say. “My teacher says I’m the smartest in my class.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugs. “In five years, you’ll be riding dicks in the backseat for twenty dollars just like your mom.”
My stomach retches, and I nearly choke on a cough. What? How could he say something like that?
“Damon?” A voice rings out.
It’s coming from the speaker system on the wall, next to the door.
“Damon, your mother wants you,” the woman’s voice says, not waiting for him to answer. “She’s in her room.”
I turn my head and look at him, pinching my eyebrows together when I notice blood trailing down his finger. The snake suddenly strikes him again, and I suck in a little breath. He’s squeezing it too hard. Why’s he doing that?
But he just stares ahead, his eyes heavy like he’s lost in thought. Did he even hear the woman on the intercom?
“Damon?” I say. That snake isn’t dangerous, right? He wouldn’t keep a venomous animal here.
What’s wrong with him?
He finally raises his eyes. “Get out.”
Jesus. What a jerk. I whip open the door and take a step. But then I stop and spin around once more.
“A cemetery,” I say. “That’s how I’d get rid of a dead body.”
He looks up at me again, his eyes narrow, and I lift my chin, shrugging. “I’d find a freshly covered grave. That way they wouldn’t be able to tell it was re-dug. Put another body in there and cover it back up. That’s what I’d do.”
And I pulled the door closed, slamming it shut on his dark stare.
I exhaled, breathing hard but standing a little bit taller.
God, he was a mess. And horrible and mean, and why did he lose it like that when whoever-that-was came on the intercom? For a moment, he looked so alone.
He’s got everything. Why’s he so angry? I’m the one who should be angry. I’m the one who’s alone. A father who doesn’t care about me and a mother who hurts and makes me do things I don’t want to do.
He doesn’t know what it’s like to suffer. To have something to be angry about.
Minutes later, as my mother and I are shown the door—empty-handed, of course—I walk down the driveway, glancing behind me one last time. Damon stands at his bedroom window, watching us leave.
The orange end of a cigarette burns brightly as he takes a drag, and I hold his stare for as long as I can, unable to look away.
Not until a tree passes through my line of sight, and I lose him.
I go home with the last image of him on that lonely third floor, the dark boy in that dark room, and I grow uneasy.
He’s not okay.
I dreamed about him that night.
And eight days later, he shows up on my mother’s doorstep. He hands her nine thousand four hundred sixty-two dollars, a Rolex, and some emerald earrings.
And he takes me home with him.
I rested my arms on my bent-up knees, running my lips over my interlocked fingers as the memory leaves me. I was twelve then, and here we were, eleven years later, and here was where I’d stayed ever since. My father let me stay, because he rarely denied his son anything, but legal guardianship had been relinquished to Marina. Just so my father wouldn’t have the tedious task of taking me to the doctor when I was sick or answering to the police if I ever got into trouble.
But I belonged to Damon Torrance.
I didn’t know why he wanted me. Not at first. And I was scared bad things were going to happen to me.
And they did.
But he always took care of me. He scrounged up what he could get his hands on around the house to buy me from my mother, who, in a perfect world, would’ve loved to not do what she had done, but the money and the small prospect that I might actually have a better life here in Thunder Bay won out.
Mostly, it was the money, though. Which was spent as easily as it was earned in no time at all. She tried to get me back several times over the years, maybe because she hated what she’d done, or maybe she just wanted to renegotiate for more cash, but Damon had what he wanted, and he wouldn’t even hear her out. Not when he was fifteen or seventeen or nineteen.
Not that I wanted him to, anyway. It could be so strange how things happen. How the people you never suspect become you’re only lifeline, and you hold onto them as hard as you can, because you have no choice. There was nothing else to keep you from falling. Falling into loneliness or despair or fear. He reached for me, and I reached back.
Within days of arriving, moving into my cubby in the tower and spending hours upon hours of being his shadow, I was captivated by him. I idolized him and wanted to be like him.
We were our family.
I looked over at the tanks, seeing Volos and Kore II basking under their heat lamps. Standing up, I walked over and removed the lid, gingerly picking up Volos and helping him curl around my hand. He should be dead already. Kore passed years ago, but Volos was hanging on. Perhaps for his master.
He rested peacefully, not moving, and I ran my fingers down his scaly skin.
After the first meeting with Damon, I’d researched his snakes on the Internet at the library and found out Volos was a milk snake and Kore was a corn snake. Both completely harmless, neither venomous.
Although what Damon said was true.
Every animal bites when it’s provoked.