Page 7 of Ripple Effect: Ep. 1

“Can’t Uncle Randy do something nice?” Uncle Randy.

I never call him that.

“I thought you loved cake.” The sight of his tongue dragging along the blade of the butcher knife sets my teeth on edge, and I have to look away.

“When have you ever done anything special for us?” My eyes flick to Layla and back, but truthfully, she hasn’t lived here long enough to earn anything special.

“Put a fucking roof over your head, didn’t I? Don’t I bust my ass all day so you can go to your fancy fucking school and wear your fancy fucking clothes?”

Public school is far from fancy and our clothes are courtesy of hand me downs from friends Chanel keeps in touch with on the north side of town. God forbid her adopted kids show up in Goodwill, even if they’re living off of Ramen noodles and Wonderbread. Still, I tread carefully, eyeing the chocolate-streaked butcher knife lying on the table. The barrel of his gun peeks out on the other side of the cake and my pulse rate hastens.

“Look, I know this is a little unceremonious of me. But I wanted to surprise you.”

“What’s the surprise?” I ask.

There’s a knock at the door, and I swing my gaze to the hallway and back to Randy.

“Well, how’s that for timing?” Randy smiles and rises up from his chair. “Your birthday is coming, sweetheart. The big one-eight. You officially become a woman. Since you won’t be here to celebrate on your actual day, we’re doing an early celebration.”

My breath hitches at his words and I dare to imagine that I might be getting the hell out of this place. “What’s that supposed to mean? Why won’t I be here?”

He opens the door to one of his poker buddies—a pig of a man they call Hoss. Asshole makes my skin crawl, the way he looks at me while playing cards, but he’s not looking at me now. His eyes are on Layla, and it’s then I notice she’s wearing a pastel spring dress with her favorite red rain boots that never match. All dressed up for something. I stand beside her, guarding her as she remains oblivious, lost in the last bit of her dessert.

“Chanel, why don’t you go get Dylan here packed.”

I flash her a look of warning. “Don’t touch my stuff.”

“Go on.” Randy nods toward her, and Chanel doesn’t look me in the eye as she rises up from the table, doing as she’s told.

Weak.

As she passes though, I see the vibrant pink lipstick covers a purple swell where Randy must’ve hit her and my attention shoots back to him.

“Now Hossman wanted to come over and spend some time, too. So here’s how this is going to go down.” Randy glances down at his cellphone and tosses it onto the table. “I got another surprise coming over in an hour, and I’ll just give you one small hint. He can’t wait to be your new daddy.” The grin that stretches his face, brimming with evil, twists my stomach.

My chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. He sold me. The bastard threatened to do it a number of times and he finally sold me. My stomach flips over on itself.

Layla’s cold little hand slides into mine and she rises up from the chair, hiding behind me. “I want to stay with Dilly.” She doesn’t like the pig either.

“Go on now. Do as Uncle Randy says, and I might get you some more of that cake.”

“I don’t want anymore. I want to stay with Dilly.” Her voice is muffled, her face buried in my jacket.

“Take your cake and shove it up your ass,” I grit out in anger.

Randy’s lip snarls, and he lurches forward. I strike out at him, my fist kissing his lip in a burst of blood, but before I can react, the back of his hand cracks against my cheek.

I stumble back into Charlie, catching myself on a chair, my teeth chattering with the pain. Charlie growls and leaps at Randy, before she’s thrown back with a kick to her chest and a yelp makes me cringe when she falls into a heap in the corner.

“Asshole!” My hands ball into fists and I push to stand, but Randy barrels my mid section, tipping the chair backward until the floor crashes into my back, knocking the wind out of me.

“Just as well, sweetheart. Hoss has plans for your dog. Lot of money put on that breed.” He straddles me, holding me down, but I fight. With every fucking ounce of strength in me, kicking, pushing, wriggling my leg between us so I can push him off, I fight him.

Another yelp tells me Hoss has gotten his hands on her and a surge of adrenaline takes over. I bite into Randy’s shoulder and his outcry rattles my skull as a cold crack against my cheek dislodges my teeth from his flesh.

“Fucking bitch!” He digs his fingers into my jaw, and his lip curls back with rage.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt her! You said you’d leave her alone!”