“Taint,” I snapped, heading to get some kitchen towel to clean the mess up with. Thankfully, it was a plastic cup, so I wasn’t left cleaning up shards of glass too.
He took a step toward me with his eyes narrowed but was interrupted by the door opening and almost hitting me in the head from where I was crouched on the floor.
“What the hell?” Noah asked, taking in his brother’s body language, and me crouched on the floor in front of a puddle of yellow liquid.
Shrugging, I beat Tate to it. “He had an accident and when I told him he should just tell y’all about his incontinence, he got upset.”
“I will…” Tate hissed, cut off once again by his brother.
“Clean your own piss up,” Noah snapped at him. “Baby, can I have a quick word?” The way he spoke to me was so soft and sweet that I almost fell over onto my ass in the puddle of apple pee.
Not saying a word, I got up and followed him out the door.
“Baby,” Tate mimicked in a high-pitched child-like voice.
“Taint!” I shouted in the hallway, running to get to Noah’s office before he did.
“I’ll kick your ass,” he roared, running out in the hallway and spinning toward where I was now peeking around the door.
“Taint peed on the floor in the kitchen!” I yelled, slamming the door shut and locking it.
It took a couple of seconds to realize that I’d locked Noah out in the hallway with his rabid incontinent brother, but by that point, I could hear his muffled shouting and the stomp of his boots getting closer and decided that it was every man/woman for themselves.
Noah was saying something to him but all I could make out was something about his asshole.
Unlocking the door as quietly as I could, I opened it slightly so I could hear them better, just in time to hear the squeaky sound of someone slipping in water followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground.
“Oh, fuck me! Is this piss?” I heard Archer groan from the kitchen.
“Yeah, Tate did it!” I yelled and then slammed and locked the door again.
I’d missed this family. For years I hadn’t smiled or laughed, and I’d woken up every morning dreading the day ahead, praying that tomorrow was the day that karma would catch up with my dad.
I still wished that would happen, but I no longer dreaded any part of my life - just the dark at night.
Now, I prayed that the way I was feeling would last for the rest of my life.
I also prayed that my father would disappear and never come back.
I was a realist though. The man never gave up and for a disgusting reason, I was useful to him. I wasn’t deluding myself like I had as a kid that I was of emotional value, nothing ever was to him.
I was distracted from my now anxiety-inducing thoughts by Archer yelling at Tate and him screaming, ‘Apple juice!’
“Oh, Tate,” came his mom Erica’s voice. “You used to say that when you were little and had wet the bed too.”
“It is!” he insisted. “And it’s Luna’s.”
“Now, that’s shameful, son,” his dad scolded. “Blaming it on poor Luna.”
“Yeah,” I yelled through the shut door. “Shameful, you big bed wetter!”
There was a thud on the door followed by a squeak. That wasn’t what made me almost actually piss my drawers though.
Oh no, that was thanks to the deep voice that rumbled in my ear at that exact moment.
“Don’t wind him up, baby,” it said. “I don’t want to kick his ass today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today.”
Screaming louder than I’d ever screamed in my life, I jumped and somehow spun around at the same time.
Proving that my coordination was truly shit, I tried to hit with my right hand, but because I was mid-spin, I didn’t calculate it properly. Missing by an embarrassing amount, I tried to kick to fend off my attacker, but only hit the table that was next to where I was standing.
“Mother humper,” I wailed, feeling my foot break into a trillion pieces.
The fact that I had a ghost assassin was now of no interest– the pieces of bone ricocheting up into my ovaries was.
Growling, the spirit assassin picked me up and gently put me on the couch in the corner of the room. I hadn’t opened my eyes the whole time, too busy doing my best not to scream until my head exploded, but at that I opened them thinking what a nice thing it was for a ghost attacker to do.
I blame the lack of brains on my foot, or maybe the water, or maybe the stress of the last…well, my entire life really.
I probably should have tried to run to safety in case it was my dad or one of his cronies.