Demon Kissed - Katie May Page 0,35

fists as I take a deep, fortifying breath.

“Yes, Mother,” I reply with all the pleasantries of a prisoner facing her execution.

“Part of being an adult is having responsibility,” she continues on, trailing her manicured fingers across the granite countertop. She pulls them away as if inspecting her fingers for dust. “Can you handle this responsibility, Kat? All you have to do is cook dinner and put Adam to bed at nine.”

At eight, I mentally correct her. What type of parent doesn’t know her own son’s bedtime?

And who the fuck does she think she is?

I’ve been taking care of Adam for years now. I grew up in a span of days so he didn’t have to. That’s all I ever wanted for my baby brother—the chance for him to enjoy his childhood. Why tarnish his innocence when he has someone like me to protect him?

I try my hardest not to allow anger to consume me. It feels like thick vines are erupting from the ground and coiling around my neck, cutting off my circulation. I struggle against the oppressive weight, my fingernails tugging at the plant, but it’s futile. I can never break free of it.

Having said her piece, Mom strides out of the kitchen, her high heels clicking against the tiles. The floor has been polished so meticulously, I can see my reflection in it. Honestly, I have no idea if my parents hire a maid to come in during the day while I’m at school and clean this entire house. It wouldn’t surprise me, especially because my parents hate cleaning with a passion.

It’s another chore. Just like me.

“It’s just going to be you and me tonight,” I whisper to Adam, reaching down to interlock our fingers. I can’t quite dispel the sudden lump that forms in my throat. I shouldn’t be disappointed or even surprised by my mother’s behavior. Honestly, I’m not sure if she has ever cared about me or my brother. Maybe she cared, at one point, but that emotion has diminished with time, distorting it into a form of tolerance mixed with hatred.

Adam squeezes my hand back and turns towards me, his eyes indecipherable but emanating a wisdom that goes beyond his four years. “It’s always been just you and me.”

And that, more than anything, sums up my entire life.

I make Adam’s favorite—spaghetti and meatballs—before putting on a recorded episode of Paw Patrol to get through the night. While he watches his show, I finish my homework and then take an hour to study the flashcards Tim made me. I’ll never be as smart as, say, Wade, but I’m determined to do better than Janie and the rest of her minions. This team is mine, and I’ll be damned if I let her take it from me because of a sexy, infuriating, sexy—

Wait, where am I going with that?

Shaking my head, I turn slightly towards Adam, who is sprawled across the couch. His chest rises and falls with his steady, even breathing, and love for him blossoms in my chest.

Smiling softly, I climb out of the armchair, taking a moment to stretch out my taut muscles before bending down to scoop Adam up. There’s going to be a point when he becomes too heavy for me to do this, but for now, I’ll savor these precious moments. His head lolls on my shoulder as his tiny hands fist in my shirt.

“Katty?” he whispers drowsily, voice muffled from where his face is flush against my neck.

“Time for bed, Adam.”

After having him brush his teeth and change into pajamas, I tuck him in. He’s out before I can even cover him with the quilt, and I take a moment to stare at his sleepy, angelic face. How long until my parents smother his innocence like they did mine? How much longer can I protect him from that, from them? I vow to myself, right then and there, that I’ll be his sword and his shield for however long he lets me. Planting a tender kiss on his forehead, I make sure that his nightlight is still on before creeping out of the room on silent feet.

I still have a dozen or so more study cards to get through. And I wanted to get started on the upcoming English paper. And I need to—

An eardrum-rupturing crash reverberates from the kitchen. My muscles lock together as I freeze on the stairs, one hand gripping the rail as fear pounds through me. I can hear my heart roaring in my chest,