He isn’t speaking. Isn’t taunting. Isn’t fucking stopping. The knife flashes once more as he swishes it proper and left.

Fuck.

“Dad… Dad, don’t.” Actual or not, my coronary heart is hammering madly, and worry twists my abdomen till I feel I’m gonna puke. That is my nightmare, the one which wakes me up at night time in a chilly sweat. Him, coming for me to complete off the final of the household. “Don’t!”

Then he’s on prime of me, pushing me again, grabbing my shoulder, lifting the knife. I twist, punch him within the arm, however he doesn’t budge. His eyes are staring proper at me, and he nonetheless hasn’t mentioned a phrase or made a sound.

“Fuck, let me go!” I battle. I kick at his legs, push at his arm, attempt to wrench myself free.

Not working. His hand is gripping my shoulder so onerous I really feel the bones grind collectively. He’s as tall as I’m, and wider, bulkier, and I’m nonetheless dizzy from the punches to my face and all of the whiskey I downed tonight. With just one eye functioning, the opposite swollen shut, my steadiness is shot to hell.

“It’s your flip,” he lastly says, his darkish eyes glittering and extensive. “The fives have turned. 5 to the day, to the hour. You lose. Time’s up!”

He lifts the knife, brings it down, and I do my greatest to dam with my arm. Blinding ache makes me cry out, after which he pulls the knife again and plunges it into my chest.

Holy shit, he’s actual, and fucking loopy, and Christ, it hurts like a bitch. I stare down on the knife protruding from my chest, blinking dazedly. My pulse is drumming in my ears, too loud.

Loud noise filters by the pounding, and lightweight pours into the alley. He lets go of my shoulder, steps again—and I’m going after him, grabbing his arms. He shrugs me off, however I seize at him once more.

No thought why, however I can’t let him go. He killed my mother. He simply killed me, too. He’s harmful. Sweet is on the market. Joel, too.

“Jethro?” a lady’s voice calls out, after which a man cursing. “Oh my God.”

My father pushes me off, and I stumble a number of paces again, falling in opposition to the dumpsters as he turns and hurries away.

I’m chilly. So chilly my enamel are chattering. And it’s getting onerous to breathe.

“Name an ambulance,” somebody shouts. “And the police.”

The alley is darkening. A shadow bends over me.

“Sweet,” I inform it. “Joel. Be sure they’re protected.”

After which the blackness closes over me.

Chapter Thirty One

CANDY

Title: Little Truths

From Sweet Boys (Weblog serial)

“I really like you,” I inform them. “Did I inform you? Do you know?”

Do you know you could have the ability to interrupt my coronary heart?

As a result of it’s true.

“What do you imply he’s within the hospital? Didn’t you simply say he was superb?” I’m clenching my cellular phone so onerous my knuckles ache. “Bry?”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s loopy over right here. Somebody stabbed Jethro within the chest.”

“Bry, are you critical proper now?” I look ahead to her reply, coronary heart in my throat. “Bry!”

“I’m critical. There’s a man attempting to cease the blood. Holy crap, Sweet…”

“Jesus Christ.” I push away the laptop computer and leap to my ft, scanning the room for my jacket and purse. “I’m on my approach.”

Supply: www.seynovel.com