Page 6 of Ruin

Noise.

It hits me like a freight train after four days of being underground in silence. Eli’s raucous boom of laughter rattles my teeth as I emerge from the shadowed hallway. Blinking hard at the light flooding through the archway from the dining room. Squinting, I step into the room, take my usual seat on the bench at the long wooden table, my back to the wall of glass windows.

I flex my other hand around the grip of my blade as a figure appears in my periphery. Fingertips ghosting over the bumpy skin of an orange as I reach towards the buffet of breakfast food in the centre of the table. My stomach churns with hunger, nausea like a fireball in my belly. But I am too focused on the tall silhouette hovering in the entryway to pay my hunger more notice.

It makes me think of my older brother, the way in which the person waits in the archway. I think of Jacob’s cocksure smile and blazing green irises. The bleeding bullet wound I administered to his chest.

I blink.

The noise dies off.

My heart drums a steady rhythm in my ears as the point of my blade sinks into the wood of the table.

“‘Sup, Cuz?” Eli calls loudly from beside me.

My fist wrapped around my knife not two inches from missing his forearm, but he doesn’t react.

One of the housekeepers passes through, dropping a heap of post down on the other side of Eli, who instantly abandons his breakfast, rifling through the pile. Pushing away his four plates full of food, he makes space for the brown padded envelope he plucks out.

“Hi,” Lala says roughly, her voice tired.

I glance up, retract my hand from the centre of the table, minus the orange I was reaching for, and pull my blade free from the wood. Pocketing it, I watch as she wanders into the room, dropping into her usual place opposite me, beside Cam. She doesn’t live here anymore, though. So I suppose it’s not really herusualplace.

Beside her, my brother Cam offers her a smile, pushing her a glass of juice with the back of his hand which she takes gratefully. Like he’s happy to see her. I am unsure how I feel about her invading the house that has grown quieter without her, this early in the morning.

Then the rest of them herd in and that makes up my mind.

“Mornin’,” Huxley, one of Lala’s husbands chirps, pushing a warm-brown hand through his tight afro curls, he drops down beside her, filling his plate with a smile on his face.

Maddox is next, nodding at everyone with a grunt in greeting. Face etched with a permanent scowl, turquoise eyes flaring over the room, he moves to sit beside Huxley.

Then comes the third one. Kacey wanders in like some ridiculous looking Greek god, all tanned skin and blonde hair. If I didn’t love my nephew Frankie so much, I would probably kill his dad just for all the ridiculous over-smiling he does. Kacey folds his huge frame into the large space beside me. He reaches across me, and without looking up, pounds knuckles with Eli.

“What ya got?” Kacey enquires, eyeing the box Eli is prying open with a fork, all whilst shovelling meats onto his plate in bulk.

“A courting gift,” Eli replies absentmindedly, tongue poking out between his teeth as he finally rips through the brown parcel tape. “Ah-ha!” he sing-songs, roughly shaking the contents out onto the table.

“Acourtinggift?” Kacey repeats in question.

Huxley chuckles with a gleam in his dark eyes, as though he’s already in on a secret that his best friend is not.

“Yup,” Eli nods, his elbow brushing my bare shoulder as he finally gets through all the packaging.

His thick thumb and finger pinch a dainty necklace between them. He lifts it up, viewing it under the overhead lights, his head cocking to one side. A thin gold chain, an ‘E’ initial pendant hanging from it, with a small white pearl bead hanging alongside it.

“You’recourtingsomeone?” Kacey stops with a fork of meat halfway to his mouth, staring across me at Eli.

“Yeah,” is all he replies and then Kacey snorts.

“It’s pretty,” Kyla-Rose says, a weirdly soft smile on her face.

“It’s my spunk,” Eli replies casually, everyone stopping to look at him.

He’s still gazing up at the chain and I cock my head to look at it again. He reaches up with his other hand, taps the little white bead.

“Right ‘ere,” he smirks, “is my cum.”

“Fucking Christ, Elijah!” Lala shouts in disgust, screwing her face up.

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