Page 93 of Blood Ties
He looks at me for a long moment. Turns his head to stare toward the house.
Is he cracking? I can’t tell, but I have to keep trying. Maybe I can at least keep him busy until Kai gets here. “You know Kai doesn’t belong here,” I plead. “Neither does your mom. Neither do I. Just let him take us out of here and—”
Knox lets out a sharp sound. It takes me a second to recognize it as a laugh. Then he releases my wrist to rub his eyes, and I think it might’ve been a sob instead. But when he lowers it and stares at me, there’s nothing but venom in his eyes.
“Our mom is dead, you manipulative little cunt,” he says. “She’s been dead for years.”
Before I can speak, he wraps his second hand around my neck along with the first. He’s not squeezing yet; the grip is almost a caress.
“And Kai is fucking crazier than I thought,” he says, his eyes darkening into a look of flat determination. “I almost thought you were right. That he might finally be ready to leave this place. But I was wrong. He won’t make it in the world outside... and you’re just making it worse, the way you’re fucking with his head.” He leans down. “Sorry, sweetheart.”
His lips press against mine again as he starts to choke me.
?Chapter Forty-Six
Kai
The stink of gasolinecoats my nose and throat as I climb up to the attic to get Momma. I doused the house in it before coming here, and as soon as she’s safely outside, I’m gonna burn this place to the ground. I already set the animals free from their pens so they won’t be trapped in the blaze.
Momma is so light that I can carry her like a child in my arms. It makes me sick to look at the stumps of her legs, so I avert my eyes as I lift her up out of bed. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’m gonna get you out of here.”
No response. Not that I expect one. I don’t think she has a clue what’s going on, but that’s fine. Once she’s out of here, she’ll get better.
I have to carry her with one arm as I climb down the ladder from the attic, but even that’s not a problem. It’s like she weighs nothing at all. Still, I take it slow — one steady foot after another, listening to the silence in the house through the pounding in my ears. We’re so close to freedom. Just four more rungs to go. Three...
Then I hear a familiar sound. Far away, but getting louder. It’s a truck coming. Dad’s truck. He’s home early.
My head whips toward the noise, my body bracing automatically — and my grip on Momma slips. I fumble, try to catch her, but she falls. Hits the floorboards below.
My stomach drops along with her. I scramble down the ladder, dizzy with panic, and crouch down on the floor. It wasn’t too far of a drop, but she didn’t even try to catch herself. Her head... “I’m so sorry. So sorry, Momma. Are you okay? I...” I reach out to grab her, to pull her up.
Her hand breaks free in my grip.
I blink. Try to process. Stare at the hand I’m holding — but it’s not even a hand, is it? It’s just yellow, brittle bones.
“What...?” My mouth is moving slowly, my brain slower still. I can’t seem to understand what’s happening. How I carried my mother down the ladder and dropped her and now she’s just... bones. I turn to look at Momma — at Momma’s body. Momma’s remains, now scattered across the floor. “No,” I say, out loud, to no one. Because no one is here to listen. No one ever has been, up in that attic where I go to hide. “No, no...”
