Split(85)

“Trust is a two-way street. You’ve got to give me something.”

“Ask Luke.”

“Lucas is . . . confused. He’s lost these huge chunks of his life and—”

“It’s for his own good. The things he doesn’t know would destroy him if he did.”

“You’re not giving him enough credit.”

I flex my fists. “You don’t even know him!”

“Maybe that’s true, but don’t you think he deserves to have his life back? My gosh, Gage, he’s running and he doesn’t even know why. He lives with the guilt that you killed his little brothers and sister—”

“That’s good. He’ll be safer that way.”

She shakes her head and frowns. “I don’t believe that. Not even for a second.”

Damn, this woman is relentless to make me f*cking crazy!

“Who killed your siblings, Gage?”

I rip my hands through my hair and grip. “Stop talking.”

“Was it your mom?” Her voice breaks on that putrid three-letter word.

I pin her with a glare. “Don’t do this.”

“She hurt you, didn’t she.” Her demands grow louder. “Tell me what happened. You were there. She hurt you and you couldn’t take it anymore, could you? How bad did it get for you, Gage? What did she do to you?!”

“Shut the f*ck up!”

“Who killed your brothers and sister? Tell me!”

“I did!”

She recoils and her eyes tighten.

Adrenaline explodes in my veins and I want her to shut up! “I killed them, all right! Are you f*cking happy?”

She huffs out a breath. “No, I’m not f*cking happy. Because you’re a liar.” She throws her arms out. “This was a mistake. Bringing you here . . .” Her eyes find mine. “I never should’ve trusted you with this.”

The words are like a sucker punch to the gut.

She moves back to her mom’s tree and kneels. Staring at the back of her head, I’m struck with her beauty, her strength, her unwavering f*cking balls that would have her turn her back on an admitted murderer. A murderer of children!

I growl in frustration, so sick of denying what my insides are screaming. She is the most fascinating person I’ve ever known, and for the first time in my existence, I’ve met someone who makes me want to give away everything.





SHYANN


I sit with my heart pounding in my throat, the cool earth beneath my knees, and the fire of anger in my gut. Why won’t he just let me in? I thought if I shared something deeply personal with him, he’d do the same. He’d understand I could be trusted if I opened up the most private part of my life to him.

Footsteps sound behind me and my muscles coil tight. He won’t hurt me; I believe with every cell in my body that he’d never hurt me.

“She’d make him watch.” His deep voice is rough with emotion, as if the words are being pulled from his throat over broken glass. “They were babies and . . .”

I exhale, close my eyes, and relief lightens the weight pressing in on my chest. He’s opening up.

“She blamed them—her husband left and she blamed them.” He clears his throat, but I don’t dare look up, acting as still as the forest so he’ll continue his confession. “One day she was holding Mikey’s hand over the burner on the stove. He was so hungry he’d taken something out of the garbage and she caught him. The screams. I’ll never forget the sound of his screams. Luke was crying, begging, offering himself up in Mikey’s place, but every time he tried, Mikey would scream more. I snapped. I couldn’t take any more of the screaming.” A few beats of silence build thickly between us. “Ask me what I did, Shy,” he whispers.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry and clogged with tears. “What did you do?”

“I attacked her.” There’s a smile in his voice. “I shoved Luke into the dark and I tackled the bitch. I punched that stupid whore as hard as my eight-year-old body would allow.”

I try to hold back, but a whimper falls from my lips. The things Lucas has seen, the extremes he was forced to endure. Would it be so shocking after years of this kind of treatment he’d want to end the pain? Send his siblings to an eternal peace rather than a lifetime of torture? Would I blame him if he did?

“I only got a few good hits in. She was bigger. Stronger. And, f*ck, the bitch could throw down punishment as if she were Satan himself. I’ve had to bathe in boiling water, go weeks only eating whatever she left for me in the toilet—”

I gasp and cover my mouth to avoid crying out.

“—sleeping in a concrete room without a bed or a f*cking blanket to keep me warm. I was sick most of my life. Fevers that got so high I’d hallucinate, vomit that would be so fierce it would break all the blood vessels in my face and eyes, break my ribs—”

My arms wrap around my stomach, trying to hold myself together.

“—the beatings that seemed to never end. The starvation. She’d finally feed me and when I’d bring the food to my lips she’d smack me so hard the food would fall to the ground and I’d see stars. You know what it’s like to eat your food off the ground? To crawl on your knees with your hands held behind your back and have to lick your food off the dirty f*cking floor, Shyann?”