My cheeks grow hot, and I blink down to where his stomach touches mine. “You said you could help me.”
It’s a quiet reminder. I’m not sure I want his help, but I am curious.
“We’ll start a foundation, a safe house. I’ll get dad to fund it, you can run it. We can do community outreach, work with the police and soc
ial workers.”
He rattles it off so fast, my head spins.
At the same time, my stomach turns.
Outreach is not what I have in mind.
Still…
“That’s a good place to start.” I nod, thinking. “We’ll need a way to get them on their feet after—”
“After what?”
Shit. I can’t say after I kill the abusers, the pedophiles...
After I cut off their balls and shove them down their throats.
I haven’t been able to shake the asshole on the couch’s words since that night below the tattoo shop. I want tight, thirteen-year-old pussy…
The words have haunted me, plagued me, driven me.
They set my teeth on edge.
They clench my jaw so tight, red floods my vision.
“Where did my girl go? he says softly, leaning down to nuzzle my jaw with his full lips.
Three deep breaths.
Inhale, exhale.
Inhale, exhale.
Inhale, exhale.
It’s how I come back. I learned it when I would kill them with Lara. I had to have a way back to the light. I come back on the last breath.
“I’m here,” I say, exhaling slowly. “I like your idea. I have an idea of my own, but I like yours. It’s good. Like you.”
He smiles and kisses the top of my chest. “Like you,” he says.
It’s his sheltered view of the world.
I’m not good.
And this isn’t over.
* * *
Molly’s story is HIT GIRL, coming March 19…
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