Page 29 of Little Nightmare

A cleansing, after all, meant the entire family—the bloodline, the relatives—everyone.

The cleansing that just took place—had he been alive—meant my head would have also been on the chopping block regardless of my last name.

He would have had to protect us all.

And now, I had only one job.

Protect what he left.

What he entrusted me with.

A small part of himself.

10

RAVEN

Coloring outside the lines should always feel more right than wrong.

It was harder at night.

My dad had to have had his reasons.

It wasn’t unheard of to cleanse a family line for doing something wrong. I couldn’t imagine a world where Louis would be part of something like that, and he wasn’t alive for me to ask.

My stomach had churned the rest of the day wondering what else the family was guilty of and what Louis would have potentially been guilty of other than being with me.

My stomach rumbled for the sixth time that night. I only had two classes in the morning and then a weekend full of birthday celebrations, mine included, to look forward to.

I wouldn’t be able to hide it long.

As it was, Tempest kept texting me, asking me to make plans for happy hour later that week. We had a few favorite spots close to campus, and I was counting down the days until she suddenly showed up with a few bottles of wine and demanded I down them.

I'd tell her then—the truth.

And Ace? Well he’d just have to deal with it.

But for now? Now, I was going to sit with my Sprite and watch Ross get a spray tan for the tenth time.

I had three shows that I watched on repeat: Friends, New Girl, and Schitt’s Creek

All of them were a huge distraction from the drama of my life, and they made me smile. Louis had introduced me to Friends, and I’d introduced him to the others. He’d been fourteen years older than me—another reason my dad would have lost his shit.

Ace had already been a big no when I was in high school.

Louis may as well have been a walking red flag since he was in his mid-thirties. What did my parents expect anyway? I felt like I was already in my thirties by the time I hit my teens.

I’d seen too much.

Ace moved smoothly around the house checking doors and windows, and every few minutes he’d check his phone, look behind him, text something, put in one ear pod, read a chapter or two from his boring book and then pace.

He was on his third round of pacing when he finally sat down on the couch next to me and set a plate of celery down.

I stared. “Surely you have dip?”

“Surely you have taste.” He bit into the celery and chewed loudly. “Why would I need dip? I don’t eat for pleasure.” Another hard bite. “I eat for nutrition.”

I made a face. “I suddenly feel so very sorry for every girl you ever went down on.”

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