Where the Truth Lives - Mia Sheridan Page 0,1

meal had only been half-edible, but she’d been happy the electricity was on so she could use the stove. It wasn’t always.

She stepped over the mess and opened the refrigerator. A half can of beans, a jar of mayonnaise all but scraped clean, three carrots, a potato, and a carton of milk that held just enough to make Mady and herself a bowl of cereal before school in the morning.

“I could, ah, bake you a potato,” she said. Why did she feel so ashamed? Why was her mind swimming with it? She hadn’t set up this life. He had. So why did she carry the shame while he blamed her? It was all backward, wasn’t it?

“I don’t want a goddamned potato. Stupid girl. You can’t even buy groceries with the money I give you to make a decent meal.” He teetered slightly, stepping in the mess on the floor as he advanced on her. The slap came quickly, like a viper striking, despite the unsteadiness of his drunken stagger.

Although the slap was sudden, it did not come as a surprise. She knew it was leading there. It always led there.

Before she could react, he grabbed her by her arm, twisting so she cried out in pain. She slipped in the congealed mess on the floor, her feet coming out from under her as he hauled her up, squeezing her arm and careening down the hall with her. How is he so strong? He can barely walk, and yet he’s so strong.

She heard Mady sob softly from the room they shared as he dragged her past that door. She expected him to turn right into his bedroom, but he kept on going, toward the back door.

Oh God, no. No. “No,” she said, hot tears coursing down her cheeks, renewing the fight in her. “Please, no. Dad, no, not the cellar. Please.” She tried to turn toward his room instead, the lesser of two horrors, but he pulled her onward.

A door opened and Julian stood there, watching. He wore no expression, but there was hatred in his eyes. Save me, she wanted to beg. But Julian never did a thing. He would not help her now, and she would not ask. Another slap. Her head spun away, arm shrieking in pain as her father pulled her through the door into the cold February night.

“Your mother was a whore, a whore who left me with three useless mouths to feed, one more useless than the next,” he muttered. “I shoulda drowned you all at birth. Put you in a sack and weighed it down, thrown you in the river. Plop, plop, plop.”

Liza wished he had.

His laughter cut the night, sliced her in places deep inside. The door of the cellar creaked as he threw it open, the musty smell that haunted her nightmares punching outward. She tried to turn back, but he shoved her so she lost her footing, tripping, and grasping blindly for the railing. Her hand clamped over it and she barely kept from tumbling forward. Her father followed, pushing her again and she did trip then, missing the final few steps and landing in the hard-packed dirt below. Blinding pain shot up her arm and she whimpered, tiny white dots filling her vision, though it was almost completely dark, the only dim light shining in from the open door above.

There was a soft skittering behind her and she pulled herself into a ball, sobbing openly now. He was going to leave her here, in the pitch-black. Alone. As she slowly lost her mind.

Her throat filled with vomit. Above her, his eyes were black holes. Empty sockets. Dead eyes.

The eyes of a monster. A beast. A demon.

Something moved behind him, the moon shifting in the sky, blotting out the starlight. Only . . . no, it was a human form, and it was moving down the stairs.

Shock reverberated through Liza.

Her father looked back. He laughed. “What? You want a turn, boy?”

Her brother didn’t say a word. Her father’s body spun very suddenly, her brother’s forearm wrapping around his chest, his other hand moving in a quick sideways arc. Something hot splashed across Liza’s face. It happened so fast, she couldn’t make sense of what it was.

“Julian?” she choked. Something thick and wet slid down her cheek as the metallic smell of copper filled her nose. Blood. Bile surged to the back of her throat again. Oh God, blood. Blood. Her father’s body crumpled to the ground. Liza let out a terrified

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