Page 34 of Wicked Nasty

My dad rises from his seat, hands planted firmly on the table, as he sneers at me. "That's enough, Daniel."

"Is it, Dad?" I challenge back. "Someone needs to say it! We can't tiptoe around Mom's fragile feelings forever. She needs to get some fucking help."

Del pushes her plate away in frustration. "Here comes the Danny show again, huh? What about Mom? What about her feelings?"

I let out an exasperated huff. "It's always about Mom's feelings. Always! But what about us? Don't our feelings matter?"

My mom is now sobbing uncontrollably as my dad takes a swig of whiskey. He stammers, trying to form a response but can't find the words.

"Yeah," I continue, anger coursing through me. "You never asked any of us if we wanted Becca here. It was all about YOUR feelings. Not mine, not Del's, not even fucking Becca's!"

With a violent push, I storm out of the house. My fists clench and unclench with each step, my mind racing with anger and betrayal.

How could they all sit there, pretending like everything is just... good?

Like Daisy isn't buried in the cold, hard ground, like my best friend's girl wasn't the one who killed her.

The thought makes bile rise in my throat.

I march towards the woods, following the well-worn path to the old treehouse my dad built for us when we were just kids. The familiar creaking of the ladder echoes through the quiet forest as I climb up to the worn wooden structure. Pushing open the squeaky door, I am greeted by memories of simpler times. A warm feeling washes over me as I sink onto the threadbare carpet, shutting out reality for just a moment.

I shut my eyes tightly, trying to block out the pain and confusion that threaten to consume me. All I want is to feel numb again, to escape this never-ending nightmare and live a normal life like everyone else.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a pre-rolled blunt and a lighter, bringing it to my lips as I light it with shaky hands. The warm smoke fills my lungs, bringing a sense of temporary relief. I take another hit, closing my eyes once more.

But my solitude is interrupted by the sound of someone ascending the ladder. Opening my eyes in annoyance, I am met with Becca's irritatingly perfect face. With a sigh, I sit up and take another drag from the blunt in defiance.

“What the fuck do you want, Becca?” I growl as she saunters towards me, taking a seat on the treehouse floor next to me.

“Del told me you would be up here,” she says nonchalantly.

I narrow my eyes on her. “So?”

She shrugs. “I wanted to clear the air.”

“There's nothing too fucking clear,” I snap back.

Becca's expression hardens as she stares at me. “So that whole outburst at dinner is just a normal thing for the Rorke family? Just a little quirk?”

I scoff at her. “Fuck you, Becca.”

Ignoring my comment, she reaches over and takes the blunt from my hand, bringing it to her lips as she inhales deeply.

Jesus, fuck. How badly I wish it were my cock in her mouth instead of my blunt…

Turning to me, she offers it back and I take a long drag before handing it back to her.

“Listen,” she begins, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “I don't want to be here any more than you do. But I'm keeping my mouth shut and being nice so I can graduate and get the hell out of this place. It's only a few more months.”

I glare at her, taking another hit of the blunt. “Fine. But my family... will never be yours. Keep your mouth shut and stay in your goddamn room.”

Becca's eyes flash with anger as she snatches the blunt from me again. “You're so fucking nasty,” she mutters under her breath.

I grab it back from her, sneering. “You have no idea how nasty I truly can be.”

She laughs in defiance, a smug smile spreading across her face. It infuriates me to no end.

“Oooooh, big scary Danny,” she mocks. “You may be able to bully everyone at school, but I'm not one of your little minions.”

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