Credence

I turn to close the door, but I take a quick glance. Kaleb is planted on the table, his nose bloody and his father trying to clean it up, but he grabs the rag out of his dad’s hand and holds it to his nose himself. His lips are etched into a snarl.

Did Terrance Holcomb do that to him? I was a little worried about the shotgun Kaleb had, but I suspected it was all for show. No police were here, after all.

Noah opens and closes the refrigerator, pulling out an ice pack, and I walk through the kitchen, toward the stairs.

“Get started on dinner,” Jake tells me as I pass.

“I’m not hungry.”

“We are,” he grits out.

I stop and turn my head, the two of them crowded around Kaleb, and I notice the array of other scratches, dirt, and blood on his jaw, shoulder, and hip. A pang of guilt hits me, but the other guy probably looks worse, and I didn’t ask Kaleb to do this for me.

“That’s not my problem,” I shoot back, glaring at my uncle. “You want a servant, hire one.”

He jerks his head toward me.

“And since I won’t do what I’m told,” I add, “send me home.”

I don’t belong here. This is why I’m better alone. I don’t have to feel all these things all the time. Embarrassment, shame, guilt… If you don’t put yourself out there, you don’t hurt.

Noah and Jake just stand there for a moment, and I look to Kaleb, unable to stop myself. “I don’t feel bad for you one bit,” I tell him. “You got what you deserved, because you used me as an excuse to start a fight. You weren’t defending my honor.”

He glares at me.

“Like any troglodyte male, you’re just dying to hit something. You enjoyed yourself.”

He hops off the table, leveling me with his eyes as he takes a couple steps forward like he’s going to come at me.

But Jake advances first. “You don’t know us,” he states. “You don’t come here and disrespect my home.”

“I’ve been here three days, and you have intimidated me, threatened me, and taunted me. You’ve acted like bullies,” I tell them. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to yell? Fight? Isn’t that what you said?”

“I said you’d benefit from some time here, and I was right!” Jake fires back. “You’ve got no idea how to work inside of a unit. Be part of a team. A family.”

He stalks forward, and I back into the living room as he closes the distance between us. “Let me educate you, girl,” he growls. “You’re the kid. I’m the adult. You do as you’re told, and there’s no problem. That system works for us.” He towers over me. “Just. Do. As. You’re. Told!”

I shrink for a second, but then I shake my head, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re spoiled.”

I drop my head, squeezing my eyes shut against his attack. I’ve never been yelled at before. Ever. That fact just occurs to me, and my hands are shaking.

It’s degrading. I feel like shit.

“No maids here,” he continues, “No butlers.”

My back hits the wall as I grind my teeth together and anger burns in my gut.

He goes on, “No assistants to wipe your fucking little ass. No easy access to your psychiatrist to get you your pills that you need to dull the pain of how shallow your life is!”

“That’s your baggage!” I shout, finally looking up at him and giving it back. “Your issues with our family are not my problem!”

What do I care about maids, butlers, or pills? He’s bringing his personal shit into this.

“Is anything your problem?” he retorts. “Do you give a shit about anyone but yourself? You don’t ask us questions about our lives. You barely eat with us. You won’t sit with us. You have no interest in who we are!”

“Because I’m always in the kitchen!” I blurt up at him, my chest nearly brushing his.