Page 34 of Cup of Lies

The pain is already making me gasp desperately for air.

There’s a knock on the door.

Eva whimpers and clings to me. I know she doesn’t want to throw me into a den with a vicious tiger who tore me to shreds once upon a time ago.

But it’s necessary.

She has to.

“Answer it, Mom,” I choke out. “Let’s get this over with.”

Eva kisses my head and whispers how terribly sorry she is. I believe her.

I have to dig deep and think of Kaitlyn’s sweet giggles, her innocence, the love I have for her to get me through the next phase.

She’s my reason—the only reason I’d willingly put myself through this.

To protect that sweet little girl, I have to face a monster.

Not just any monster.

Mymonster.

The door opens and a lovely, demurely dressed blonde walks into the room. I stare at her red fingernails, frozen in spot like a stuffed bear in a pile in my closet.

Don’t move.

She won’t see you.

Be quiet, Romy.

I steel my spine and rise to my feet. With a fierce glare, I stare down the beast—the cause of my mental misery.

“You’re going to help me find Kaitlyn,” I hiss, voice filled with poison, all directed at her. “And then you’re going to get the fuck out of our lives forever, Vivienne, or so help me, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

Caius

Flying would’ve been much faster.

But flying leaves a trail and I don’t want to be tracked. Instead, I took my Range Rover over the Canadian/United States border, parked it in Spokane, Washington, and purchased a car in cash from some teenager who was selling his. It was a beater, and he wasn’t bright enough to understand the transfer of title work.

I swapped license plates with a car in long-term parking at the airport and then made my way out of the state. We’ve been on the road in an essentially untraceable vehicle ever since.

If Dad really wants to find us, he will.

My intent isn’t to hide from him indefinitely. It’s to put distance between us so I can figure out what the hell my plan is next.

We’ve been on the road for three days, sleeping in cheap motels along the way. LuLu has spoken little and focused on drawing in her iPad. I’ve stewed the entire way.

When I crossed over into Oklahoma, I expected to be hit with a wave of nostalgia. But I feel like my brain has been fucked with so much, I’ve lost what little precious memories of home I had. Luckily, my birth home was never a secret to me. I suppose since my real parents were dead, Dad didn’t have any reason to keep that information from me. It’s nearly six in the evening when I finally pull off the winding road onto the long driveway that leads to my parents’ land.

“Where are we?” LuLu asks, finally noticing the scenery around her.

“My home.”

From my vantage point, I can see a Ford flatbed truck and an SUV parked in front of the small farmhouse. Chickens walk freely around the yard near the house, pecking the grass.

“Who lives here now?”

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