Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
He smirked as he looked back at the road. “We don’t keep the thoroughbreds here. Just have a few quarters.”
Oh. Well, those weren’t intimidating. I smiled, relieved.
“I hadn’t mentioned the thoroughbreds,” he said. “How’d you know about those?”
“Wayon, he told me about them. And Alpheus placed bets on several of the Davidon’s horses,” I replied. “I figured all of the Southern Mafia were probably a part of the thoroughbred racing life.”
He frowned. “You spend much time with Wayon?”
He had no idea how little time I’d spent with anyone.
“No, not really, but more than anyone else outside the house.”
“That sounds shady. What do you mean by that? Don’t you have friends? A social life?”
I stared out the window, not sure how to answer this. The truth wasn’t something I’d ever spoken to anyone about. Even Wayon called me Dalia. He didn’t know anything about Lace or her existence.
“No, I don’t,” I replied honestly.
“And why is that?”
I had known he wouldn’t take the simple response and let it go.
“I never went anywhere to make friends.”
“What about when you were in school? College?”
Sighing, I thought about my diploma and the name on it that wasn’t even mine.
“I was homeschooled with a private teacher. I didn’t go to college,” I replied.
The truck came to a stop, and I turned to look straight ahead at a red building that wasn’t nearly as elaborate as the house. But the rustic yet well-kept appearance was picturesque.
“Lace,” Luther said, “what did you do every day? With no job or friends?”
Whatever I had been told.
I didn’t want to talk about this anymore. I wanted forget it all.
“Lace.” He repeated my name when I remained silent.
I didn’t want to disappoint him. He might take me back to the house.
“I took care of her,” I said just above a whisper. Reading aloud her favorite childhood books, brushing her hair, changing her clothes, setting up her dolls just how she liked them.
“Who did you take care of?”
The image of her blank expression as she stared at nothing, the silence that greeted me morning and night—it all began to replay in my head. He needed me. He wasn’t going to let me go. I might not be his biological daughter, but I was the only one who knew the lies. He needed me to get what he wanted.
“Lace, who did you take care of?” Luther asked again.
I felt bile in my throat. All that I had tried to repress churned inside me like the evil monster that it was.
“Dalia,” I replied. “I took care of Dalia.”
Twenty-One Years Ago…
I stood in the corner of Dalia’s bedroom, watching as she twirled in circles and talked about the bunnies, with teeth and long purple tails, that would come tonight. She said they had come every night this week.
“Moon goddess, rocks, and salt,” she squealed and began shaking her head in a strange way that scared me.
Dalia scared me a lot. She didn’t used to be like this. I wanted Mommy to come and make her better.
The bedroom door swung open, and Mrs. Lune—the nurse—came inside. She paused, watching Dalia, then turned to look at me.
“How long has she been like this?” she demanded.
I shook my head. I didn’t know. “I, uh…we were playing with her dolls, and then she…she ripped an arm off one and threw it at me.” My words were rushed and shaky as I watched Dalia, still shaking her head crazily and making a weird screeching sound. “I ran over here, and she began spinning and talking about bunnies.”
“I told you to come get me when she started showing signs,” Ms. Lune said as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a syringe.
I hated needles. I tried pressing my body further into the corner. Wishing I were anywhere but here.
“NOOOOOOO!” Dalia screamed as she glared at Ms. Lune. Her hair was a wild mess from all the shaking she’d been doing, and when she bared her teeth, she looked like an animal.
“Easy,” Ms. Lune told her, and Dalia turned her eyes to me.
She let out another loud noise and charged at me. I had nowhere to go. Her hands were up like claws. She’d clawed my face once until it bled. I didn’t want her to do that again. Father had made me stay in the basement until it healed, and I hated it down there.
“MOVE, LASSANDRA!” Ms. Lune shouted, but I couldn’t.
Just before Dalia reached me, I closed my eyes tightly and covered my face with both hands.
I wanted Mommy. I wanted Mommy!
Twenty-Three
Luther
Jerking open the passenger door, I grabbed Lace’s arms and turned her to look at me. She was crying silently.
What the fuck had I said?
“Lace,” I said sternly, “look at me.”
She blinked, and she was back. Recognition and anguish stared back at me.
I started to ask her what that was, but I stopped, afraid of her response. Instead, I pulled her to me and held her while my heart rate slowed back down.