Lost Boy - Ker Dukey Page 0,67

out from the doorway, rubbing down his shirt to remove the creases.

“What did you inject her with?” I ask, my voice shaking. Who is this man I’ve allowed into my life? Your brother.

He takes another step into the room. It appears to shrink around him, his demeanor suddenly menacing.

“She suffers from breakdowns, delusions.” He puts a finger to his head, swirling it around in a crazy motion. “I gave her a sedative.”

My hand lingers on the box, the cold chasing a shiver up my spine, chilling my blood. He hasn’t looked away from the freezer. Why would he have a freezer in here?

“Why did you never mention who she was?” Nerves eat at my stomach. My skin tingles all over with the need to flee. The boy I called my friend looks nothing like the man before me now. There’s a change in his character, a shift to his posture, the look in his eye.

“I didn’t want you figuring things out too soon.”

This isn’t happening. Pain spreads out over my palm, my nails burrowing into the flesh. “What does that mean?” My head feels like it’s full of helium. I’m about to float away.

He takes another step toward me, so I pull the box out, holding it like a hostage victim.

He fixates on it, and tenses, his eyes glued to my hand. “Don’t make me take that from you,” he growls, and for the first time, I fear him. His jaw flexes, his mouth twisting into a sneer. “Lizzy…” My name is a warning, terrifyingly pungent on his tongue. Without thinking, I rip off the lid, my body flinching back when he roars, “Nooo!” His hands are outspread, eyes wide with horror.

I drop the box like it’s made of hot coal, each finger hitting the floor in slow motion.

Dink, dink, dink…

Vomit races up my throat, spilling from my mouth, splattering at my feet. “It’s you!” I cry out, retching. A calm appears to wash over him. He closes his eyes for a fleeting moment, then walks to where the horrors litter his bedroom floor. Kneeling down, he collects his trophies like it’s an overturned jewelry box, not human flesh.

“Why? Why!” I scream, my soul wanting to tear through my skin and flee the carcass holding me hostage.

“To draw out our father—at first.” He shrugs. Our father. “Then, I have to admit, I got a taste for the kill.” He stands, tucking the box back into the freezer. I eyeball the door behind him, weighing my options. As much as I want to escape him, I want answers just as bad.

“Do you know what it’s like growing up being hated by your own mother?” he asks, looking over at me. Rolling his shoulders, his size appears to expand under the moonlight, the monster coming alive, taking the reins. My heart splinters, the shards cutting through bone, skin, deserting me.

“I didn’t have a mother. Willis killed her,” I spit out, hatred overwhelming my sense of fear.

“Well, he failed to kill mine.” His brow quirks. “He tried. If they hadn’t caught him right at that moment, she would have bled out and died, and little me already taking root would have died right along with her. Does that terrify you or make you feel alive?” He turns to me, a callous smile transforming his pretty face.

“Impregnating her without knowing?” I breathe.

“She was sixteen when she had me. The wounds barely healed, and the scars never would. They called me a miracle child. So much trauma, yet I stuck.”

“I’m sorry.” And I mean it. What a twisted way to enter this world.

“I believe you.” He smiles, pacing the floor between us before stopping in front of me. Taking a strand of my hair, he curls it around his fingers. “You were nothing like I expected, Liz. Damn, I thought after everything you’d witnessed, you’d be just as fucked up as me. Willis’s blood in your veins on top of the ordeal…”

“I’m nothing like him,” I grit out.

“Oh, I know. But you’re not exactly normal either, are you?”

“Is that what you are—normal?” I mock.

“Fuck no. What a boring waste of life that would be. The Abigail’s of the world disgust me.”

Abigail. Sorrow and shame marinate inside me. “Is that why you killed her?”

Moving away from me, an expression of satisfaction shining in his eyes, he says, “That and to see your reaction. Someone you knew but weren’t particularly friends with. Close enough to get a reaction, not close enough to cause you pain.”

Is that what