Chapter Six
Seventeen Years Ago - Ryder
THE brUISE ON my face stands out. Normally I wear them proudly, but today I keep my right eye tipped away from the new girl. I tell myself it’s because I don’t want her to feel afraid. Maybe that’s part of it, but if I’m really honest, it’s because I don’t want her to turn those clever eyes on me and strip me down the way she did yesterday.
Not when I look and feel like this.
The little girl is sitting across from me. From the corner of my right eye, I can see her trying to catch my attention. When she doesn’t succeed, she crosses her arms and scrunches up her nose. I almost forget why I’m not looking at her and do it anyway.
Cyrus comes by with the small paper cups you usually fill with ketchup, but in this house, they get filled with pills. He sets one down in front of the new girl and warning bells set off in the back of my head. The other kids start swallowing them, one by one, but the new girl sits there frowning at them. It’s my turn to try and catch her eye, but she dutifully ignores me.
“Eat silently. Nobody is dismissed from the table until I come back.” Cyrus drops a plate of sloppy eggs in the middle of the table, before taking his own plate to the recliner in the living room.
The girl reaches for the cup and I kick her under the table. Her eyes flash up to glare at me, but her face freezes as she takes in the bruise over my eye. I wait for the pity and the fear, but there’s nothing there but a bleak frankness as she connects the dots.
She glances over her shoulder to where Cyrus left the room and opens her mouth, but I cut her off with a shake of my head, shooting my eyes to the other kids and back to her.
Not in front of them.
The little girl looks over the other kids and slowly brings her eyes back to mine, understanding. I flick my eyes to the little cup of pills and subtly shake my head.
Don’t swallow them.
She picks up the cup, slowly and secretly, hiding one at a time in her pocket. I nod my approval and do the same. None of the other kids are interested enough to notice, but I learned a long time ago that if they did, they’d rat me out faster than I can blink, rather than risk the wrath of Cyrus.
And fair enough.
Grabbing the serving spoon, I scoop the eggs onto my plate and offer it to her next. Her nose scrunches up again, but I shove the spoon toward her, willing her to take it. Eventually she does, but only puts half a scoop on her plate. I eat my eggs quickly, needing to be ready for whatever Cyrus has planned for us today.
By the time I look up, she’s only pushed hers around the plate.
I pick up my fork, pointing to her, the plate and then her mouth. Eat.
The little girl glares at me and shakes her head. No.
I narrow my eyes. Eat.
She sticks her tongue out at me. I open my mouth to throttle her, consequences be damned, but Cyrus walks in and takes account of our paper cups and plates.
“I hope you’re all finished. Everyone, stand up.”