Page 12 of The Cute Psycho

"Oh." He frowns slightly, eyeing the clothes on the floor.

"Son... are you..." he stammers, and I want to groan out loud. Surely he's not about to ask me about my sexual orientation? "Gay?"

I blink once, slowly.

"No," I answer, staring him in the eye. "I'm not gay. Nor am I a transvestite," I add, knowing that's the next thing he'd ask.

"I see," he replies, strengthening his spine. He is, no doubt, happy he won't be shamed by a gay or gender non-conforming son.

In our culture, admitting to such a thing would be like signing my death warrant, and I know Father would be sad to let his favorite weapon go.

Not that I hadn't thought about it too. He's right that I am at an age where I should notice girls, or boys or... someone. But I can't muster the interest for anyone or anything. My thoughts are centered only on my next kill—when, who, and how.

Besides, even if I were, who would dare approach me?

I give him a nod, carefully lifting the clothes off my puzzle and depositing them next to me.

"Vanya's going to kill me," I mutter under my breath, knowing she'll be pissed if anything were to happen to her new clothes.

Father stops dead in his tracks. Half turned, his profile is bathed in shadows as he looks at me strangely.

"What did you just say?" he asks, his words slow and measured.

"Nothing," I lie. I'm not about to throw Vanya under the bus. Not when her presence is the only thing keeping me sane.

"Yes, you did," he continues, coming toward me. His eyes darken, and I'm having a hard time identifying the emotion on his face.

Is he angry? Shocked? Afraid?

His features are drawn up in a combination of all three, and for a moment I find myself unable to react.

"No, I did not," I repeat, keeping up the ruse. For good measure, I even let my lips widen in a small smile.

"Yes, you did. You said your sister's name. I heard you clearly." His hand reaches for my shirt, lifting me up.

Stunned, I look at him confused. This is the first time in years he's willingly touched me. Never mind that it's also the first time he's dared to go against me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I reply, feigning ignorance.

"You think Ilya didn't tell me about your little adventure at the tattoo shop?" he asks, and I have to keep myself from reacting. It won't do anything but provoke his ire, and it's the last thing I need right now.

I can't afford for him to lock Vanya away or prohibit her from ever visiting me again. That would be unbearable.

"It's not her fault," I immediately start talking. "I convinced her to come with me there. She was worried about upsetting you, but I forcedher." I look Father in the eye as I say this, wanting him to believe my words.

"Her... your sister," he continues, his face the same mix of unrecognizable emotions from before.

"Yes. Vanya didn't want to, but I convinced her," I repeat, and watch, almost in slow motion, as his eyes widen, his hands releasing my shirt.

I get myself together and put some distance between us. I wouldn't want to hurt him, even by accident. I'd made a promise that I'd never harm my family and I will hold myself to that.

"Vanya... you spoke with Vanya?" Father repeats, almost as if in a daze. I nod.

"It's not her fault. Please don't punish her, Father."

He raises his eyes toward me, the corners sloped downward. His face suddenly looks old and weary.

"How long have you been talking to Vanya, son?" His tone is gentler, and my eyebrows knit together in confusion.

---