Page 80 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
“And if he’d actually wanted to kill me, what then?” I interrupt, and Crown pauses, his green eyes taking me in, sweeping down to my feet and back to my face. There’s shame in his gaze, and that tells me all I need to know. “No, don’t answer that.” I put a palm up, and push past Crown into the hallway.
Gaz’s obnoxious cackling echoes around the stairwell as I head down, my hand sweaty, slicking down the banister as I make my way to the living room. There’s an archway behind the stairs that leads to the formal dining area, a room we’ve used less times than I have fingers on my right hand. And even then, we’ve never actually eaten in here. Cat has lectured me at this table, but that’s about it.
Nellie’s wearing a pale pink dress with short sleeves that shows off the scars on her inner elbows, needle marks from all the drugs she used when I was a kid. Even though she’s more or less sober now, the damage has already been done. Her face is drawn and tired looking, and even with all the fancy dental work my father’s paid for, there’s a considerable lack of fullness in her lower jaw.
Cat is sitting at the head of the table (of course he is) with my brother, Gaz, on his right. Crown follows in behind me and takes up the seat to Cat’s left, out of habit.
Just to be contrary, I sit at the opposite end of the dining table. It has six chairs which makes my heart hurt so goddamn bad that it feels like I’m about to throw up. Six chairs. Six family members. My eyes latch onto the empty chair next to Crown, and my heart skips and jumps inside my chest. That should be Queenie’s chair, I think, and the one Crown’s in should be Posey’s. But my sisters will never sit at this table again, never smile at me over a bowl of Queenie’s spaghetti, never share a new shirt or critique a daring outfit.
My hands curl into fists on my thighs as Nellie places a plate in front of me, and the familiar smell hits me in a rush.
“Where did you get this recipe?” I ask, and my voice is so tight and strained that Gaz and Cat pause their conversation to look over at me. Even Crown is staring. Me, I’m too focused on the noodles with their red, red sauce. The color of blood.
“I …” Nellie, poor stupid Nellie who’s always been the last person to get the joke, she looks at the food and then over at me, blonde and blue-eyed like my dead sisters. “I found it written in a cookbook—”
I don’t wait for her to finish, shoving up from my chair and racing into the kitchen to find Queenie’s favorite cookbook, the one with all the handwritten notes, lying next to the stove. There’s a splatter of red sauce on one corner, and a glass of wine sitting on the opposite page, blotting out my sister’s words with a purple-red ring. Swear to fuck, I see red.
Nellie follows in after me, thoroughly confused, and when I slap her, she has no idea it’s coming.
The harsh smack of my palm against her cheek rings loud in the quiet kitchen, my feet standing in the very same spot Queenie’s body slumped when she died. I can see the pantry from here, the one I hid in, the one that saved my life and cost hers.
“You went into my room and you took this,” I growl, shoving the wineglass off and letting it roll onto the floor. It shatters to pieces and stings my toes, but I don’t care. This book, it’s one of the few parts of Queenie that I have left. To see it disrespected like this infuriates me, stirs up some of that wild rage I felt that night, when I fucked four Death by Daybreakers until the sun came up.
“No,” Cat says, appearing from around the corner and putting his hand on my mother’s thin shoulder. “I went into your room and took it. Everything you have is mine, Gidget.” He steps toward me and reaches out for the cookbook. When I hug it close to my chest and move back, his rust-red eyes flare with anger. “Give your mother the fucking book.”
That’s a direct order.
Crown appears in the entrance to the kitchen, looking at me with a gaze that’s almost pleading.
“What else did you take?” I whisper, realizing that I haven’t checked my dresser drawers since I got home from school. The smile that lights up Cat’s face is not a pleasant one.
“You think I was gonna let you off that easy?” he asks me as Gaz appears beside Crown, staring at me with cold, dead eyes. My brother’s hatred isn’t burning hot anymore. Instead, it’s like ice, and that’s so much worse. My skin prickles with goose bumps, and the hair on the back of my neck rises as my instincts kick in.
