Chapter 7: Paper Towels

3.1K 71 9
                                    

Keeley's POV

I sigh as I unlock the door to the house. It has been an extremely tiring day, and from the moment I got to school, it seems like nothing wanted to go my way.

To start with, Mr. Monroe assigned us a shit load of homework, Ms. Loren said we are to have a painting done for tomorrow of someone who has hurt us, English and Physics both left me with hours of homework, and in Gym, Ryder just so happened to hit me in the face with a basketball. Joy. The only good thing that came out of today was that Aubrey invited me to sleepover on Friday after the football game. I at least have that to look forward to.

I walked into the grand foyer and slid off my moccasins before going further into the house.

"She's not going with us," I heard Callan's hoarse voice speak. With the tone he was speaking with, I pitied whoever was on the opposite end of that conversation.

"Well, what are we supposed to do? She has to understand what we do and what happens when someone crosses us, Callan. There is no argument!" Nick's voice boomed through the house.

"Well," I speak loudly as I step into the living room to see the two in a stand-off, "she is here to decide for herself. Now, what the hell is going on?" I dropped my backpack on the ground as I rubbed my face. I'm exhausted and the last thing I need is another sibling argument.

"Nick wants you to go with us to the big house to question a guy that crossed us," Callan growls while looking at our oldest brother.

"She needs to see how we handle things, Callan. This is her life too."

"So you mean," I begin, "that you want me to go with you to torture some answers out of some piece of shit trader?"

"Yes! What is wrong with that?" Nich continues to yell while his hands fly in the air.

"I'm not going," I tell him tiredly but with no room for argument.

Ever since it all happened, I've never been able to be in the room with anybody who has to go through that pain. All I can think of is the desperation that I felt at the hands of him and I crumble at the sight of prolonged torture. I'm fine with dragging someone's death out a bit longer, but I refuse to drag out death for days, to make somebody feel like that. Even the worst of my enemies I wouldn't wish that on.

"What do you mean by you aren't going?" Nick's voice has considerably lowered and his ice-like eyes are only focused on me.

"I mean that I'm not going. I have homework and I'd rather not put people through that sort of pain. You can't change my mind." Callan gives a look to Nick that screams I told you so.

"You are going. Homework can wait." He grabs my arm as well as my bag and starts dragging me towards the door. His grip is tight and even though I'm wearing a hoodie, I can tell soft purple bruises will be on my arm tomorrow.

"If you don't let go, we are going to have problems," I say as quietly as I can to prevent myself from going batshit crazy on his ass. He stops in his tracks and turns to look down at me.

He looks so much like our father right now. Their eyes both hold some sort of anger that is mixed with irritation and the way each of their jaws ticks ever so slightly when frustrated on the right side is uncanny. I can feel the disappointment radiating off of Nick solely because I don't want part of what he is about to do. I can deal with anger, but not so well with disappointment.

"You are going, Keeley. That is final." His hold tightens around my arm as his suit-clad chest begins to rise and fall faster.

I grip his hand and pry it off before snatching my bag out of his grip. "I won't go and you can't make me. I've had a long day and the last thing I need right now is for you to make it worse. So leave me the hell alone."

I Am KeeleyWhere stories live. Discover now