Credence

I wouldn’t try, even if he were alone, but…

It’s a nice little fantasy.

Warm.

Safe.

Comfort.

Noah’s like that.

I stand up and lean my forehead into the wall, listening to the boys make love to girls and the ache filling me up, because I’m alone in here, forgotten and… jealous. Why am I jealous?

I squeeze my eyes shut, the tears streaming down over my parched lips, and shake my head.

Walking over, I open my bedroom door and head into the hallway, the noise filling the house louder now. Girls giggle in Noah’s room as a cry echoes from above, followed by moaning, and I pass by, fog in my head as I slowly drift down the stairs.

The cool air hits my bare legs, but it’s a welcome relief as it eases my muscles. I should put a robe on, but I don’t give a shit. I have my first assignment for school due tomorrow that’s far from finished, and I should probably log back into Twitter to see if that girl made good on any of her threats, but I just can’t muster a care in the world about any of it tonight.

I walk through the dark living room, the fire from earlier now extinguished as the black hollow of the fireplace looms to my right, stained with soot. The clock chimes the hour, but I lose count as I head into the kitchen, trying to swallow through the dryness in my throat.

Filling up a glass of water, I lift it to my lips and take several gulps, swallowing fast and emptying the glass. I immediately f

ill it up again and tip my head back, drinking until I finally feel satisfied.

I stare out the window above the sink. In a matter of weeks, snow will cover the ground. The house will be quiet, no women for miles or months.

They’re like demons. How do they do it year after year?

How will I do it this year?

They’re not my parents. They engage me, and every time they do a flood of feelings I’m not used to navigating comes out and I do or say something stupid.

Or my body wants to respond in ways it shouldn’t.

I rinse out my glass and set it back in the dish rack, leaning against the sink ledge and gazing out the window, staring at nothing.

Locked up here for months with them, I’ll go crazy. They’ll drive me insane. Someone will end up dead.

Something sounding like keys jingle to my right, and I startle, jerking my head around.

Jake sits in the dark corner at the kitchen table, and I straighten, my heart hammering in my chest. He stares at me.

His finger is threaded through the ring of his car keys as he flips them and catches them in his fist with a beer bottle sitting nearby, and I take in his jeans, minus the shirt.

Heat rises to my cheeks, every inch of my visible skin suddenly feeling so much more exposed now as he watches me. I thought he was in his room.

He doesn’t look like he’s been in his room at all, though. He still has his work boots on.

I hold in my shiver, but the points of my breasts harden to rocks through my tank top, and I fold my arms over my chest. I can’t tell if he sees, but a moment later he rubs his finger over his lips.

“What…” I choke out and clear my throat. “What are you doing?”

The music turns on upstairs blasting “Devil in a Bottle,” but Jake just sits there, and I can see where Kaleb gets his silence. Not talking and not communicating are two different things.

I take a step over toward the island, shielding myself. “Where’s your…friend?” I ask softly.

“Home.”