Page 2 of Hush Little Martyr, Don't You Scream
Someone must have hand-delivered it.
Running my fingertips over the ridged edges of the box, another breath seeped from between my lips. Finally, I pushed away from the counter, leaving my tea behind as I jerked openone of the drawers near the stove. After a few seconds of rummaging through it, I found what I was looking for.
Taking the box cutter, I sliced the tape open on both ends before setting it aside. Whoever put this together, took their time with it. The whole thing was packed securely. Unfolding the lips of the box, I reached inside.
My God.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. What was in this thing?
Finally, my fingers connected with something cold—so cold, it was almost like glass. Nervous energy prickled down my spine, my hands curling around the object and slowly lifting it from its confines.
The breath stuttered from my lungs, my lips parting in awe. It was a male doll, dressed in a black, leather jacket. This looked stupid expensive, which only made me appreciate it more. His dark hair was swept over his forehead, blue eyes shining brightly. Whoever made this was incredibly talented.
My mom would freak if she saw it. She thought antique dolls were creepy. Surely, she wouldn’t mind if I held onto it.
“What should I call you?” I whispered, taking my time to admire the beautiful glass doll with porcelain skin.
A word echoed through my skull, one that was so sudden I was surprised I’d managed to come up with it so quickly. A slow smile broke out across my face.
Alastair.
Chapter Two
For once, Dad strolled in from work right on time. A hard crease was indented into his forehead, his lips drawn tight like he tasted something sour. Hanging his coat on the hook near the door, he turned, his eyes falling on me instantly. He glanced around the room, the confusion apparent in his facial expression.
“Where’s your mother?” he asked.
“Napping.” I shrugged, turning the page of the book I was currently invested in.
Reading was one of the only things I got to do for myself, so I took advantage of it when I could. My parents didn’t understand that either, but they knew when to pick their battles. That was part of the reason I got to dress the way I wanted to. If it was up to them, I’d wear pink mini-skirts and halter tops, my hair would be blonde like Mom’s, and I’d be head cheerleader.
An internal scoff got lodged in my throat.
As if.
I was perfectly content with my ripped skinny jeans, fishnets, and black band Ts.
“Figures.” He scoffed, shaking his head like it was a crime for her to get some sleep after taking care of the baby all day and night by herself.
I narrowed my eyes at him, my molars grinding together as the anger within me surged to the forefront of my body. He was the definition of a man who had peaked in high school. Now, he was a miserable piece of shit who women would run from if they ever knew who he truly was.
Closing my book, I uncrossed my legs, trying my best to act like his callous response didn’t bothered me. “Isobella’s sleeping. I suggested she should take a nap. She seemed tired.” For the most part, my words came out casual, but there was a hint of an edge to them that I hoped he hadn’t noticed.
“From staying home all day?” he challenged with a raised eyebrow.
Before I could even think up a response, he was storming off to the kitchen. He did that a lot, especially when he came home on time. He’d go straight to the kitchen and drown himself in alcohol to make up for his lack of infidelity. The night wasn’t over yet though. There was still time for him to head to the bar and get his fix there.
Rising, I made a beeline for the staircase. There was no way in Hell I was spending more time with this man than was necessary. As soon as I reached my room, I pulled the door closed behind me, my gaze finding the doll’s instantly. It was like a magnetic pull I couldn’t shake.
He was seated in the small rocking chair within the corner of my room. It was my reading nook, the chair positioned right next to my bookcase. I’d always been fascinated bycreepythings, or by things most people would run away from. Like horror movies for example, haunted houses, spiders, snakes, sharks, and poisonous plants. Apparently, that included antique dolls now too.
Crossing my room, I lowered myself on the Queen-size bed, folding my legs beneath my weight before placing the book I’d been reading in my lap. I opened it up again and started from the place I left off.
I’d only managed to read a chapter before shouting sounded from down the hallway. Anger raced through me, followed by a hint of annoyance. I could never catch a damn break in this house. It was hard to make out what was being said, but it was probably nothing different than the usual.
Dad probably woke her up to complain about her laziness and whine about how unfair it was that she got to sit at home while he worked his ass off all day. If you counted his affair as him working his ass off. I rolled my eyes.
Closing the book again, I flopped backwards on my bed, sinking into the mattress.
