Page 92 of Unbidden

“I’m with Reed,” I manage to breathe out.

The man in front of me is fuming, pure hatred shining in his eyes.

“I can see that.” He sneers as his face roams my barely covered body.

I pull the shirt down to cover more of my legs. While it covers the important bits, this man’s leering eyes cause my heart rate to spike.

“You need to leave my children alone. I won’t have you poison them. They don’t need the likes of you near them.”

A pang hits my heart. Aren’t those similar words to those that Reed and his friends said when I came here? I thought Reed had been warming up to me, but could the apple really not have fallen far from the tree? Is that how he feels?

I stand frozen and speechless as emotions whirl within me.

“Well, what are you still standing here for? Leave,” he demands.

That breaks me out of my stupor. I start to grab for my clothes.

“Father, what are you doing here?” I glance over to Reed pushing his way into the room, coming to stand in front of me.

“I was tired of waiting on your useless brother to fetch you. Besides, this is my house. I can go wherever I want.”

Reed lets out a humorless laugh. “You mean this is Grandfather’s house, which he gifted to me. So, in reality, you’re standing inside my house.”

“Watch your tone, boy. You aren’t yet eighteen. What’s yours is mine until then.”

Reed tenses. “What’s the reason for your visit?”

"I refuse to speak in front of your whore. Get rid of her.”

My heart aches when Reed doesn’t correct him. Maybe I am still a whore to him. I guess I just proved that.

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” Reed responds simply.

Once his father leaves, he turns to me, but I pull back.

“Don’t,” I whisper.

He looks hurt but doesn’t push it. “Why don’t you freshen up? Then we can go grab breakfast or something.”

He looks like his mind is a million miles away, so I just nod.

“I’ll be back. Wait here.”

I watch as he leaves for the second time today. This time, my heart feels much heavier.

I make quick work of pulling on my clothes. I had every intention of leaving Reed’s shirt, especially after he let his father call me a whore, but my inner masochist makes me keep it on. It gives me every rational excuse of why I need to wear it home.

It’s cold out.

You don’t want to wear yesterday’s clothes. It’s unsanitary.

After I settle my mind, I make my way out of the room. He wanted me to wait, but I don’t think my heart can take being in the same room as him right now. I creep down the back staircase, hoping to slip out the back door before Reed notices I’m gone. Voices in the kitchen stop my progress.

I know I shouldn’t, but the masochist inside makes me stop for a moment to listen.

“I don’t understand why though. You can’t come in here and order me around. I’m not the passive child you left ten years ago.”

My heart clenches at the venom in Reed’s voice.

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