Page 75 of Ready Or Not

“You’re the best.” Riley presses her lips to the top of my forehead. It’s quick, and then she pulls back. “Has he been feeding you?” She looks me over.

“Yes.”

“You look skinny. I have snacks.”

I stare at the water pooling around our feet, feeling stupid for the warm feeling I have inside. I know Riley’s just manipulating me, but it feels real, and I want to sit in this moment for just a minute longer before I face reality.

Because I know in reality, Riley doesn’t care beyond her little game. Manson will use me to get close to her, and then I’ll be forgotten.

And against all reason, that hurts.

40

Monster Made of Memories - Citizen Soldier

Manson doesn’t come up after our shower or as the night goes on. Rachel and I talk, mainly about the snacks I’m going to demand Manson run out and get, and then it devolves into our favorite foods.

In a turn of events that will shock no one, Rachel has a terrible pallet. I don’t think the woman has tried anything new in ten years. It almost makes me want to get her to eat my pussy, just so I can give her something good to eat.

Almost.

I don’t let anyone touch me. Ever. Unless it’s Manson, and he never gives me a choice, so in a fucked up way, it’s still okay. But only for him.

“Are you going to bed?” Rachel looks at me where I’m at on the couch. Her hair is still damp, but she looks relaxed. I realize that we’ve been having our first normal conversation.

“You can have the bed.” I throw one of the pillows over my face.

There’s a pause, then she asks, “You sure?”

I turn my head so the cameras can hear it better. “Sure as I know Manson’s a dick.”

Rachel snorts.

I peek out at her. She’s stifling a smirk.

I grin. “Oh, so you do have a sense of humor! I had begun to think it was stuck behind that stick you have up your ass.”

Rachel gives me an indignant look, but her eyes are soft. I just wink at her.

“I ought to smother you in your sleep,” Rachel grumbles. Suddenly, her eyes snap open. “I didn’t mean–”

“Sure you did.” I tuck the pillow under my head. “Lucky for you, that just turns me on.” I like seeing her like this. Less afraid. I find myself smiling like I do when I’m being dumb and thinking about Manson, and that makes me sit bolt upright.

Oh no.

“You okay?” Rachel looks at me.

“Uh, yeah.” No. Bad Riley. Stop thinking about these two. Whatever happened to your badass, ‘I’ll do it alone’ mentality?

There’s silence, and then Rachel seems to accept my answer. I hear her shuffling around as she gets ready for bed.

It’s quiet for a long time, but it’s not a chaotic silence. It’s the kind that wraps up the restless anger in my brain and soothes it.

Eventually, I pass out. And when I do, a flashback I didn’t remember fills my head.

“Riley!” The voice is gentle and deep. I jump and drop my magnifying glass.

Mom wasn’t supposed to leave today. Did she leave?