Chapter 9
Maya
It’s been a week of hell.
A hell I completely deserve.
Logically speaking, I know I didn’t want any of these things to happen.
I didn’t will for my mother to die while birthing me, robbing my sister of her mother.
I didn’t will for my father to hate me. I didn’t want us thrown from house to house, living like stray dogs between aunts and grandparents.
And I definitely didn’t will for my filthy fourteen-year-old boyfriend to rape my sister.
But in the end, they happened. Whether I willed them to or not, they happened.
And they all happened because of me.
Me.
The common denominator is always me.
I ruined her life.
And I did it all by just existing.
My back aches so badly I’m literally limping back to my motel room. It’s the cheapest place I could find that doesn’t require an ID and takes cash upfront.
The con?
I’m burning through my limited savings faster than I can count.
And I’m so fucking tired. With my luck, every single one of my real jobs dropped me within the span of three months.
So now, I’m working anything I can find.
A night shift as a dishwasher in some sketchy restaurant downtown, and during the day, an office cleaning job—a low-paying gig my friend managed to scramble together for me.
I drag my feet down the motel hallway, ignoring the other patrons who are clearly deep into criminal activity. But I had absolutely no choice but this place.
The only credit card in my purse is the one Graham gave me, and I know the second I use it, he’ll know exactly where I am. He’ll find me within minutes and drag me back to his mansion by the hair.
I took away his favorite plaything.
And a man like Graham doesn’t tolerate that.
The first thing I do when I slide into the room is lock the three deadbolts I bought so I can sleep. Then I strip off my filthy clothes and head straight for the moldy shower stall to wash the scent of vinegar and cheap dish soap from my skin.
Under the freezing water—because apparently the hot water tank already ran out for the night—I finally let myself cry.
What the fuck am I going to do?
I can’t afford to stay here forever, and I definitely can’t afford rent anywhere in the city.
I’m staring down the very real possibility of going completely homeless.
The motel walls are paper-thin. I can hear muffled grunts and laughter from the criminals next door, so I slam my knuckles into my mouth and bite down hard on my skin to keep myself quiet.
If they sense I’m this vulnerable, I’m going to be eaten alive before sunrise.
The ugly voice in my head whispers in Valeria’s tone.
“You killed our mother.”
I did.
My first breath took hers.
“You brought a monster into the one place I was supposed to be safe.”
I did.
But I swear on my life I didn’t know. I had no idea. Back then, she told me she had slept with Nile willingly. She bragged about it. If I had known what he really did to her, I would have killed him myself. But the truth isn’t enough to save me.
It’s still my fault.
All my fucking fault.
“Our father ran away because of you.”
I wish I had never been born.
Valeria could have lived a normal, beautiful life without me.
I’m a parasite.
I am nothing but evil.
Unwillingly, my arms rise and my fists start hitting my head. Over and over. Trying to beat the memories out and silence the voices.
I wish I was dead.
Gone.
Buried.
I didn’t ask for any of this.
Everything I touch turns to wilt and rot.
I blindly turn off the water, trembling violently from the cold and the pain. Then I drag my dripping body out of the stall and collapse onto the broken, sagging mattress.
The cheap sheets soak beneath me as I bury my face in the stained pillow and cry.
And cry.
And cry.
Until there is absolutely nothing left inside me.
When I finally roll over, I reach for my phone on the mattress.
The screen lights up with another text from Valeria.
From the very first day I ran away, she started texting me to come back.
But I don’t want to.
I can’t.
I know how the game is played in that house, and her sudden desperation means one of two things. Either she’s faking it because Graham is threatening her to lure me back into his trap, or he’s already confiscated her credit cards until I return.
Either way, I’m not going back.
I can’t face her again.
And I’m scared that if I do, I’ll fall even harder for Graham.
Valeria deserves a life of peace, and my existence in that mansion will only drag her deeper into hell.
Eventually, Graham will get bored of me and give her back her money.
And if she’s only pretending to worry because he wants her to?
Then I’m giving her exactly what she wants by keeping my mouth shut and refusing to respond.
My eyes drift down the screen to his name.
Graham has only sent me three texts since the night I left.
The first came when I didn’t return that morning.
Where are you?
The second arrived the next day.
Come back.
And then the last one, from yesterday, makes the hairs on my arms stand up.
You’ll either come back kicking and screaming, or on your own two feet.
I guess I’ll have to wait and see whether he can actually live up to his threats.
Because I swear to God, I am never stepping foot in that mansion again.
I would rather be homeless.