Goddess of Pain - Katie May Page 0,82

with a purple-flecked moon above. I made it when I was sixteen at one of those recreational art classes they always offer.

But I don’t see any of that.

Instead, the room is bereft of anything that was once mine. The bedspread is a monotone gray with two white, fluffy pillows. The dresser is a dull amber wood instead of the mahogany I’m familiar with. There are no paintings on the walls. It’s as if…

As if I’ve never lived here at all.

Panic unfurls in my gut at the implications of such a thing.

What if those memories have been nothing but a lie? What if I never really stayed in this bedroom with the purple walls and the contrasting black carpeting?

That panic is replaced by a harrowing pain at the realization that I moved out of this house after my dad died. If this house holds no memories of me…

Then my dad had no memories of me either. He died not knowing that I existed, not knowing that the memories in my head are as real as anything else in my life.

He died not knowing he had a daughter who loves him fiercely.

And I know that I shouldn’t mourn something that has never been real—after all, the ‘memories’ of my childhood are nothing but an illusion Rebecca somehow found a way to create—but it still spears me with its intensity.

A pulsing pain throbs in my skull, and my heart aches as if someone is squeezing the life from it in their fist. Tears spill out of my eyes and down my cheeks before I can stop them. I try to cry silently, but a gasp slips out unbidden. An intense, agonizing pain whips through me. It sucks the air straight from my lungs and makes breathing virtually impossible. I want nothing more than to curl into a ball and have my men comfort me, but I know I can’t.

Biological brothers or not, Colton, Henry, and Ray need me.

Getting a handle on my turbulent emotions, I once more trace my fingers over the edge of the blade in my pocket. Each press of the metal against my overheated skin serves to calm me down a fraction until I feel relatively normal.

Maybe normal isn’t the correct term. I’ll never be normal again after this. But for now, I’m numb, and that’s the best any of us can hope for.

I slip out of the room, listening intently for any wayward noise. It doesn’t sound as if anyone is even breathing, but I refuse to succumb to the panic brewing inside of me, threatening to escape.

Methodically, I check each bedroom, ensuring that they’re empty. My brothers and Rebecca are nowhere to be found.

When I reach the stairs, my footsteps are quieter, gliding across the wood without so much as a peep.

My heart races, each consecutive thump threatening to be my last, but I work to control my breathing.

Count backwards from ten. Ten. Nine. Eight.

I reach the landing and throw my body flush against one of the two pillars present there.

Seven. Six. Five.

Crashing to my left, in the kitchen, captures my attention, and it’s there I go, holding the knife at the ready.

Four. Three. Two. One.

I jump around the corner and slam the tip of my blade into Rebecca’s pasty neck. She freezes, eyes widening in alarm, as I glare at her with all the hatred and betrayal I can muster.

“Don’t fucking move,” I hiss, baring my teeth at her. The shock splayed across her face turns into surprise and then into excitement. The cocktail of emotions both confuse and terrify me.

“Em?” Her voice wobbles slightly. “Fuck, I’m so happy to see you!” Ignoring the blade still centimeters from her neck, she throws herself into my arms, sobbing. Instinctively, I drop the knife to my side before I regain my senses and shove her off of me.

“I’m going to kill you!” I rage as her eyes once more widen imperceptibly. She looks exactly as I remember her—pert nose, elfin features, wide, circular eyes, and mousy brown hair. Fear dances in her eyes as she takes an automatic step back.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” she whispers. “When I got my memories back on the blood moon…” She trails off, forking her fingers through her hair. “Who did this to us? What the fuck is going on?”

“What?” I brandish the knife, eyeing her with barely veiled distaste. Does she really believe I’m that stupid? That her innocent act will work on me? “Don’t play fucking dumb.”

“I got a text from