Page 3 of Devil

When I had enough at fifteen years old, I burned the fucking house to the ground with my mother and her boyfriend inside. I ran to a neighbor’s house, spewing bullshit about how theywere high, and fighting. Next thing I knew, smoke was filling my room.

Everyone bought my story.

The state took custody and shipped me to a foster home. I thought my life would get better, but I was mistaken. The Lancaster house was a force to be reckoned with. I honestly thought if I could survive my mother and her men, I could survive anything.

I was wrong.

The Lancaster’s were strict and if you didn’t follow their rules, you were punished severely. There were six of us in that prison. We were home schooled, to shield us from sin and temptation. They thought keeping us sheltered, more like captives, would curb our wicked ways.

They didn’t teach us shit.

We were servants.

The two younger children spent most of their time on their hands and knees, scrubbing the floor with toothbrushes and Brillo pads. The two middle kids tended to the lawn and any outside projects, designed to make us look like one, big, happy family. Being the second oldest, I was in charge of cooking all the meals, doing laundry and taking care of the younger children.

Then there was Colt.

The sixteen-year-old, blue-eyed mystery boy who didn’t speak. He was made to wash the vehicles, perform maintenance on whatever needed it, and do the grocery shopping. Because he didn’t talk, they assumed he was safe to leave the home.

I’m not sure what kept him coming back.

He had access to their cars, and they gave him money to buy the things we needed. He could’ve run away and never returned.

But he always came back.

Before I realized he didn’t speak, I tried to talk to him a few times, but when he didn’t respond, I gave up. Assuming he didn’tlike me, I kept my distance, tending to my duties all day, every day. I began noticing, no matter what I was doing or where I was, he was always close by. His blue eyes tracked my movements, never letting me out of his sight for long.

When I hadn’t spoken to him for two weeks, he came into my room one afternoon, after returning from the grocery store. He walked to the edge of my bed where I sat, tossing my favorite candy on the mattress. My jaw dropped as I stared at him, stunned. He smirked before walking away, like he didn’t just turn my world upside down. After that, Colt and I would sit next to each other when we could or watch movies together when we were allowed.

No talking.

Just sharing the same space.

I always looked forward to our time together. We didn’t need to speak, being present was enough. As months went by, we formed a unique bond. And him being around kept me out of trouble with our foster parents. Any time they came near me, Colt would stay close by, like I was his to protect.

I sensed darkness behind his beautiful eyes and a part of me always believed the Lancaster’s felt it too. They never gave him any shit and seemed to trust him for the most part, until everything changed.

One night when I was sixteen and he was seventeen, our foster parents confronted us about our relationship. I explained to them over and over that we were just friends. They didn’t believe me. Colt’s silence didn’t help matters, or the way he stood beside me, stone faced, his body filled with tension.

He chose the worst possible time to communicate with me, gripping my hand, squeezing it tightly with reassurance. Mr. Lancaster’s gaze tracked the movement, backhanding me and calling me a liar and a slut. Colt caught me before I hit the floor,his piercing eyes darkening with something evil. In the blink of an eye, he was on my foster father.

He tackled him to the ground, pummeling his face with his fists. I was frozen to the spot, mesmerized as Colt unleashed his rage on the patriarch of the house.

Bones crunched.

Blood from Mr. Lancaster’s face and Colt’s hands mingled together in a hypnotic dance.

So much blood.

Mrs. Lancaster was screaming for him to stop and when she reached for the phone, I pounced. Ripping the receiver from her hand, I smashed it against her temple, and she dropped to the floor, knocked out cold. With my chest heaving from the adrenaline, I turned to Colt, his intense gaze crashing into me, stealing my breath.

The Lancasters were both unconscious as he rose to his feet, closing the distance between us. He fisted my hair with both hands, pressing his forehead to mine. My eyes caught every spec of blood splattered across his face and my heart clenched with the realization that he did it for me.

He leaned in closer, his lips almost touching mine. “I have to leave.”

All the oxygen rushed out of my lungs at the sound of his deep voice. It was raspy from not being used, but it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. My chest fluttered as we watched each other for what seemed like forever, but in reality, it was only a few moments.

I finally found my own voice, my heart racing like never before. Tears filled my eyes at the thought of losing the only person I’ve ever connected with. “I know.”

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