Page 91 of Hexed
“You knowexactlywhat I’m talking about.”
It was her sixteenth birthday party, and she brought him to my room and barricaded the door so I couldn’t get out.
Flashes of that night zoom through my mind, sending a ripping sensation down my middle, letting the hurt bleed out onto the floor.
Me screaming.
Him shoving a shirt in my mouth while he yanked down my sleep shorts and stuck his dirty dick inside me.
Fisher showing up after and forcing his way in, finding me sobbing in a corner.
Him telling Bastien.
Bastien calling the family doctor and not letting me leave my bed for a week while I healed.
A shiver rolls down my spine, nausea making my stomach churn, and I shake off the memories, smirking at Aria because if I don’t, I might reach out and throttle her instead.
And Uncle T would probably kill me if I did, so like I always have, I rein the anger in.
“Why are you smiling like that?” she asks.
The grin drops from my face. “I’m not allowed tosmilenow?”
She scrunches her nose up, and a jolt of nostalgia hits me. She’s always done that, made these innocent little gestures that sucked everyone in around her. Back in school, I used to watch Fisher stare across the cafeteria at her with this look on his face.
Longing.
Like she was the best thing in the world. And maybe she was to him.
Staring at her now, I try to see the appeal, although it isn’tFisherI’m imagining looking at her that way.
It’s Enzo.
Jealousy weaves its way through my stomach and surges until it wraps around my chest.
“Listen, I need a favor,” Aria says.
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. Her asking for a favor is beyond hilarious, if we’re being honest. “The answer’s no.”
“You haven’t even heard what it is.”
I reach down to turn on the bar sink and toss out the bit of coffee left in my cup. “I don’t need to hear about it to know I won’t be helping you.”
“Well, I want you to be a bridesmaid.”
A cough pours from my throat from me choking on saliva, my eyes watering from the burn.
“I’m sorry,” I get out after finally getting myself under control. “Why onearthwould I do that?”
She won’t meet my eyes. “Why wouldn’t you? You’re family. It’s what Daddy would want.”
“Since when have you cared what he’d want?”
She scoffs and taps her fingers on the bar top. “I’ve always cared.”
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she retorts. She twirls the fork she used in her hair before letting it drop with aclink. “He’s just so suffocating; you know how he gets.”
