Chapter 48
Sam
The window above the kitchen sink is open, a soft breeze filtering into the room, and I hum to myself as I stir the pot of spaghetti on the stove. I’m distracted, lost in the moment, so I don’t hear the movement coming from the other room.
“Where are they?”
I startle, nearly dropping the wooden spoon in my hand, when Carson barrels into the kitchen.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t play with me.”
I sigh, not wanting to deal his shit right now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Carson.”
“My pills,” he snaps. “Where’re my fucking pills?”
“I don’t—”
“They were on the coffee table earlier.” He moves toward me. “I know you took ’em.”
I step away from him, my back hitting the counter. “I didn’t take them. Maybe you put them somewhere—”
“I know you’ve just been dying to get a taste. Don’t think I haven’t see you eyeing them.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want your fucking Oxy. I don’t even take pills.”
“You think I’m a fucking idiot.”
I inch back as he closes the distance between us.
“You think you’re better than me?”
My breathing turns heavy as he cages me in, the hot stove dangerously close to my back. I subtly reach behind me, flicking off the burner.
He stares down at me, eyes wild, and I rack my brain, trying to figure out what to do. How to get him away from me.
“I’ll help you look,” I offer.
He grabs my arm, yanking me forward and pulling me into the living room. I wince as his grip on me turns painful. Shoving me forward, he waves out a hand. “Then look.”
I stumble, catching myself against the wall.
“You’re not gonna find shit,” he says, pacing in front of me.
“Are you sure you left them down here?” I ask cautiously.
The worse his dependence has gotten, the more forgetful he’s become. That on top of the mood swings, paranoia, and his worse-than-usual fucking personality, I have to play this safe.
I don’t know why he’s gotten it into his head that I took his pills, but with the way he’s glaring at me, I know there’s no reasoning with him right now.
I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t take pills.
Other than those few times Jameson gave me Xanax after …
well, other than those few times … I’ve never touched them.
I’ve seen what getting hooked on them does to people.
Not that my other vices aren’t a problem—I know they are—but at least I’ve stayed away from anything hard.
Plus, I couldn’t do that to Jameson. Not after his mother.
I scan the room, quickly moving past our father passed out on the couch. He’s a whole other issue that I don’t even want to think about right now.
I move forward, sidestepping Carson, and start to sift through the cluttered coffee table, but all I find are an empty bottle of gin, an overflowing ashtray, dirty dishes, and baby toys.
No pills.
My father snores loudly behind me, his arm draped across his bare stomach, smelling of stale alcohol and sweat.
“What’d I tell you?” Carson says, his voice close. “Maybe we should check underneath, huh? Just to be fucking sure.” He gives me a condescending look before stepping forward and flipping the table, making the contents tumble to the floor. Glass shatters, but he just steps around it.
I suck in a sharp breath, darting my eyes to our father, but he doesn’t even stir.
Carson moves for the recliner and flips it. “Nope,” he says, looking back over his shoulder at me. “What do you know? Not under here either.”
He goes for the side table next, knocking it over. The lamp shatters, and I jump.
“Stop,” I whisper. “You’ve made your point. I—”
“You gonna give ’em to me now.” He turns to face me. “Or do you want me to keep looking?”
I back up, slowly inching toward the stairs. “I didn’t take them. I don’t know what to tell you.” I grab onto the railing. “I don’t know where they—”
He rounds the tipped recliner as I take the first step up the stairs. “Where do you think you’re going?”
As fast as I can, I turn, flying up the stairs. I can hear him shuffling behind me, glass crunching underneath his shoes.
Only a few more steps, and I’ll be—
He grabs a hold of my ankle, pulling my feet out from under me. I fall, throwing my hands out and clawing at the stairs, kicking my foot back behind me. Pain sears through my knee as it hits the hard wood.
“Get the fuck off me!” I kick out again and feel his hand slip away.
Without hesitation, I scramble up, running to my room.
“Sam,” Cathleen calls, sticking her head out of the bathroom. “What’s going on?”
Carson chases behind me, and I hear Jace start wailing.
“What the fuck are you—”
Cathleen’s words are cut off as I slam my bedroom door closed behind me and lock it. Heavy fists immediately come down against it.
I scan my room frantically, my heart pounding.
“Open this fucking door!” Carson shouts. “I know you fucking took ’em!”
Panicked, I slide the dresser in front of the door, barricading it, and call Jameson.
“Hey,” he answers. “You at work?”
I told him earlier that Cathleen could drive me, but Jace woke up from his nap sick. I planned to ask Jameson for a ride after I finished making dinner, but then all hell broke loose.
“N-no,” I stutter. “Jamie … I need you …” My voice cracks as the door rattles, the knob twisting. “I need help. Carson, he’s … I’m in my room, but he’s at the door. I don’t know if he’s gonna—”
“Are you hurt?” he cuts in, his rage barely contained beneath the question.
I look down at my skinned knee. “I’m fine,” I tell him. “But I’ve never seen him like this before … I …” I trail off as Carson screams through the door. “I don’t know what he’s gonna do.”
“He’s not gonna do anything, okay? I’ll be there in five minutes. I’m not gonna let anything happen.”
“Okay,” I choke out.
“Who else is in the house?”
“My father’s passed out downstairs.”
“Cathleen and the baby?”
“Jace … he’s … he’s sick, so she was giving him a bath.” I swallow. “I don’t want him to go after them if he can’t get to me. What if he—”
“He won’t,” Jameson jumps in. “Stay in your room. I’ll be there soon.”
I tense as something slams against the door.
“Sam?”
“Yeah,” I push out.
I hear an engine roar to life as he says, “I’m gonna hang up now so I can get there quicker.”
“Okay.”
“It’s all gonna be fine.”
“Thank you,” I manage before the line goes dead.
In rapid succession, three kicks land against the door. “Goddammit, Samantha, open this fucking door. I’m done playing games.”
Jace’s crying is a constant background to the threats Carson is spewing.
My instincts are screaming at me to go to him, to open the door and let Carson in, if only to calm Jace down.
The fear that if I don’t give in to what he wants, he’ll only turn his anger on them.
But I hold myself back, forcing myself to think clearly.
Jameson’s coming.
It’ll all be okay.
He’ll make this all okay.
I pace in front of the door, my eyes catching on the window.
I could just climb out.
Escape.
Why didn’t I think of that before now?
I rush over to the window, seeing Jameson and Billy running up the lawn. Just as I push it open, they disappear out of view.
“I know you fucking took ’em!” Carson continues to rant. He just keeps repeating the same thing over and over again, like he’s completely losing it.
I stand still in the space between the door and the window, not knowing what to do.
Suddenly, Carson goes quiet. I move closer to the door, hearing shuffling on the other side.
Something hits the wall before Carson starts back up again, but this time he’s not talking to me.
“Who do you think you are coming into my house?” he spits. “This is none of your fucking business.”
Jameson. I sag forward. He’s talking to Jameson.
“Baby.” I hear his voice against the door. “Open up.”
I shove the dresser aside, letting him in and slipping my gaze into the hall to find Billy standing over Carson’s slumped body.
Jameson crowds me, pushing the door shut behind him, his hands coming to either side of my face. “You okay?”
I nod.
“What happened?”
“His pills …” I answer. “He … he thinks I took his pills. But I didn’t. Jamie, I didn’t take them.”
“I know, baby. I believe you.”
“He wanted me to help him look for them, and I tried, but he …” I shake my head. “I don’t know … He … he just lost it.”
I don’t mention the fact that he chased after me or the bruise that’s surely forming on my knee. I can tell Jameson is barely holding it together as it is, and I just need to get out of here.
I need to get Cathleen and Jace out of here.
“My sister”—I swallow—“and the baby. They … they should still be in the bathroom.”
Jameson nods. “We’ll get ’em out.”
He steps back, grabbing my hand, watching me with a question in his eyes, asking if I’m ready to go out there.
I dip my chin, which is all he needs before he pulls open the door and moves into the hall.
Cathleen is standing in the bathroom doorway with Jace, who’s wrapped in a towel, in her arms. He’s quieted down, but he’s still fussing, his face buried against her chest.
Her eyes catch mine for just a second before they shift to Carson. She inches back into the bathroom. I follow her gaze and see him pushing up onto his feet.
He flails his finger in front of him, pointing it in my direction.
“This is all your fault.” He shakes. “If you didn’t take my fucking pills …
” He steps forward, and Billy moves with him.
“Look at what you did to Jace.” He raises a hand to his face.
“And this. You called your fucking dogs and had me jumped. Just give them back! I know you—”
“She didn’t take your goddam pills,” Jameson mutters. “She isn’t like you.”
I drop my eyes to the floor, embarrassed by the situation. Embarrassed by my fucking life.
Carson laughs, pulling my attention back to him.
He locks gazes with Jameson, a cruel smile pulling at his lips as he motions to me. “Bet you’ll be right at home with her, won’t you? All you have to do to see her future is look at your mess of a mother?”
How does he …?