Home > Books > The Last Housewife(91)

The Last Housewife(91)

Author:Ashley Winstead

To my surprise, her eyes filled with tears. “My mom lost her job, and I was going to get kicked out of school. I didn’t know what else to do, and then I met the Marquis. He saved me.”

The pieces locked together. “Katie, is he covering your tuition?”

She gave a slight nod and another watery smile. “I owe him everything.”

The sheer audacity. It would create such an obvious paper trail.

“But—” Her eyes tracked to the door, as if someone would burst in. “At first it was just sex. Now it’s more like tonight. And he wants me all the time.” She looked at me hopefully. “How do I make him happy? What do you do?”

“You’re saying the Marquis is making you do things you don’t want to do.”

She touched her fingers to the bruises on her knees. “I just have to get used to it.”

I clutched her hands. “Katie, it doesn’t matter what he’s giving you. You have to leave him.”

She jerked back, staring at me in shock. “What? I can’t.”

So young. “Come with me, right now. We’ll go together.”

“No. I like it here. Really, I’m grateful.”

“Katie—”

“They’ll find me if I run.” She shook her head violently. “I don’t want to be like the others.”

“What others?”

She curled into herself and looked at me with wide eyes full of fear. “The ones they send to the Hilltop,” she whispered. “The girls who never come back.”

Chapter Twenty-One

I stood in Jamie’s shower and let the scalding water wash away the stench of iron. Blood curled down my legs, snaking through the drain.

Don’t remember, I warned myself. Not a single second.

But when I closed my eyes, there she was: Katie, rocking on the floor. A convert at war with herself, just like we’d been. She’d made mistakes, but she didn’t deserve this. She was young, and now she would be scarred forever. Now even the shape of her mind would never be the same.

I laid my forehead against the tile.

For the rest of her life, she would be a mystery to herself. Hungry for the things that hurt her.

The water lanced my skin, hot as a strike from a whip.

There would never be another antagonist more insidious than her own mind.

A phantom hand brushed my leg. My throat throbbed where the pearl necklace had bitten into me. I touched it, feeling each perfect, round indentation, hearing the man’s voice: You’re here… Which means you’re exactly like the rest of us.

Even if she managed to run, she would never escape.

The tears came without warning. Years of careful control, and suddenly there was nothing standing between me and the grief. I sobbed, shoulders shaking.

The bathroom door cracked open, and Jamie’s voice filled the room. “Shay, what’s wrong?”

I turned and slid down the wall, clutching my face.

“Hey.” His voice was tortured. “Let me help.”

There was a moment in which the world was nothing but hot water, my chest heaving, the cold tile at my back; then the shower door opened and Jamie crouched next to me, arms circling me, pulling me close.

I clutched him, and he stroked my back, murmuring, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Water soaked his clothes, running down both our faces.

Time passed, but neither of us moved. Eventually my crying turned into rasping breaths, and the water ran cold. Jamie brushed his lips over my forehead and said, “Hold on.”

 91/159   Home Previous 89 90 91 92 93 94 Next End