Kill Switch

by Penelope Douglas

  “Please,” I said.

  “Don’t walk away from me!” someone suddenly shouted down the hall.

  I popped my head up, realizing someone else was in the house.

  What?

  My mom. She was home.

  “Fuck,” the boy whispered.

  I opened my mouth to shout, but he clamped his hand down over my mouth, hauled me up again, and I heard doors behind us swing open and realized he was hiding us in the walk-in closet.

  I kicked and screamed, but the doors swung closed again, and his hand muffled my cry.

  I heard the bedroom doors on the other side slam shut and a switch next to me click. He must’ve cut the light in the closet as he hid us behind the wall.

  “No, no, no,” I heard my father argue. “Since you had to drag us back home tonight, I’m just trying to make sure we’re behind closed doors so the girls don’t have to witness your drunk-mother-tantrum.”

  The guy holding me turned me around to face him, his arm circling my body and holding me to him tightly as his other hand stayed pressed over my mouth.

  “Mom!” I called out, but his hand was so hard over my words, it barely carried. I breathed hard through my nose.

  “Oh, yes, by alllllll means,” I heard my mother shout back. “Let’s take them to the next company function where your latest twenty-year-old slut can suck the sweat out of you in the men’s room with all of our friends outside!”

  My ears perked, and for a moment I stopped fighting him.

  “Is this one pregnant, too?” she went on. “Paying for another abortion and to keep her mouth shut about it is really going to nail home those good Catholic values we’ve tried to instill in the children. You’re such a piece of shit.”

  “Say it again,” my father dared her.

  Pregnant? Abortion? What?

  I shook my head, clearing it, and called out again. “Mom! Dad!”

  He held me so tight, my teeth cut into the inside of my mouth.

  “You work for nothing and spend, spend, spend, you lazy bitch,” my dad continued, “so if I want a young piece of ass to bounce up and down on my cock once in a while, then I’d say I earned it!”

  I winced. Young piece of ass? Oh, my God. What the hell were they doing?

  “And you can smile and take out my credit card, go shopping, and shut the fuck up about it,” he told her.

  A slap pierced the air, and I startled.

  “I hate you,” my mother choked out. “I hate you!”

  The springs in the bed squeaked, and it sounded like a struggle.

  “We weren’t always like this!” my mom cried. “You wanted me. You loved me.”

  “Yeah, I did. When you were a young piece of ass.”

  Fabric ripped, and my mother growled as they fought. I froze, not fighting anymore and tears pooling so heavy they threatened to spill over.

  “But thanks to my money,” Dad said, “you still have the tits.”

  She cried out, and I heard another slap, and then grunts and groans, and I shook my head, starting to cry. But before I could think of what to do, the hands left my mouth and waist, and instead came up and covered my ears as he pulled me close.

  “Shhhh,” he soothed, his mouth next to my temple.

  I cried quietly, their voices dulled now, but I could still pick up pieces.

  “Oh, God,” my father groaned. “Yeah.”

  I shrunk.

  “Get off of me,” my mom demanded. “No!”

  “Uh, come on.” My dad’s voice sounded labored. “I’ve still got her all over my dick. Your cunt will smell like hers. Sweet, like honey.”

  I brought my hand up to cover the sobs escaping, and that’s when he brought me into his chest, still holding his hand over one ear, but pressing the other into his heart.

  I breathed through my hand, and even though I wanted out of here, and I didn’t give a damn if they knew I’d heard them, I was afraid of the consequences. Since my father hadn’t actually wanted to bring me home from Montreal, he wouldn’t need a good excuse to send me back.

  So I stayed in here, the boy’s heartbeat drumming in my ear, and after a few moments, everything had calmed. My tears stopped, my breathing got slower and more steady, and I couldn’t hear my parents anymore.

  Just his heart, pumping heavy and fast and in a constant, perfect pace like a metronome, unchanging.

  At some point I dropped my hand from my mouth, my arms hanging limply at my sides, but he never let me go. And the beating in his chest lulled me until my eyes grew too heavy to keep open anymore.

  Exhaustion took over, and before I knew it, I was lost in it.

  In his warmth. In his arms. In the thunder of his heartbeat.

  The next morning, I woke up, slowly blinking my eyes awake and my body feeling like it weighed a ton.

  Why did—?

  But then my eyes popped open wide, and I shot up in bed, remembering last night.

  “Hello?” I called out. “Is there anyone there?”

  There was no answer, and I reached over, hitting my alarm clock.

  “Nine-thirty a.m.,” the clock said.

  It was morning. Late morning. I never slept this late.

  I plastered my hands to my body, inventorying my clothes. I still wore my jeans and tank top, and I still had on my bra and my ballet slippers.

  I darted my hand to my jeans zipper, wincing just in case.

  But my jeans were buttoned and zipped, and my body, although tired, felt fine. I didn’t think he’d touched me. At least not in that way.

  Throwing off my covers, I swung my legs over the side and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. How did I get in bed? I wasn’t sure which was the least mortifying option. Actually falling asleep after he’d scared me half to death and then him putting me to bed or my parents finding me passed out in the closet and discovering I’d been there the whole time. And them putting me to bed. I almost didn’t want to leave the room to find out the answer.

  But I needed to face the music.

  Standing up, I walked alongside my bed, toward the door, but I accidently kicked something in my way and stopped.

  I held out my hands, finding a cardboard box.

  No, actually… Two cardboard boxes, stacked on top of each other.

  I opened the top one and reached hesitantly inside, feeling wood, ceramic, glass, and clay. There were miniature trees, glitter-capped roofs, and models of houses, buildings, and a clock tower.

  Then my hand knocked a model, and Carol of the Bells began playing, and I knew it was the ice rink adorned with little trees and ice skaters.

  I almost smiled. It was the Christmas village. Two boxes of components.

  How did…

  Footsteps pounded down the hallway, and I heard my mother call down to Arion, sounding completely different than she did last night. I veered around the boxes and opened the door, peeking my head out.

  “Ari, is that you?”

  “I’m getting my shower,” she said as she passed me.

  “Did you get the snow village for me?” I inquired. I wanted to thank her if she did.

  But she just barked back at me. “I said ask Mom. I have no idea where it is.”

  Okay. Wasn’t her then. I ducked back into my room, scratching my head.

  What the hell was going on?

  “Hey, sweetie,” my mom greeted, entering my room. “Did you have a good night?”

  Jesus, no. My mind flashed to what I’d heard with her and my dad—how they both sounded like they were killing each other. God, the things my father said…

  Growing up, I remembered them fighting, but I’d been gone a long time, it seemed.

  “Are…are you okay?” I asked hesitantly as she moved about my room, probably making my bed, because she still thought I needed help. “Last night, I mean. I thought I heard—”

  “Oh, did Ari get the village for you?” She cut me off. “That was nice of her. See, she does love you.”

  She pinched my chin, teas
ing me, and I jerked a little, not in the mood.

  “Get dressed,” she told me. “We have brunch in an hour.”

  She left the room as quickly as she’d come in, and I gathered she didn’t want to know how much I’d heard last night.

  But she didn’t seem to know I was in the closet, at least. Thank goodness for that.

  And Ari was acting completely normal. For Ari anyway.

  Neither of them were responsible for the Christmas village in my room, either.

  “What the hell?” I thought out loud, knitting my brow. “What the hell was that last night?”

  Was it just some elaborate prank? Why would he threaten and scare me the way he did and then…and then shield me when my parents started fighting? He protected me and put me to bed and somehow knew I wanted the Christmas village that my sister wouldn’t get for me.

  I knew I should tell my parents about what happened, but...

  I don’t know. It could’ve been just a prank, right?

  If I told them, it could get me sent back to Montreal where I was “safer and in my own element” like my father wanted. I really didn’t want to bring any drama to his attention, because I’d be the one to get punished.

  No. The boy didn’t hurt me. Not yet, anyway.

  In fact, he was kind of an angel at the end. An angel with really black batwings.

  Psycho.

  Damon

  Present

  “So this is Women, Gender, and Sexuality in Japan,” I said, walking into Banks’ classroom. “Part One.”

  I added the last part sarcastically, unsure as to why this class needed to exist in the first place, much less needed more than one part to it.

  My sister turned her head, locking eyes on me over her shoulder. Slowly, she dropped her pen and twisted in her seat, a cautious but faint smile on her lips at seeing me. The ‘I love him, but should I be worried he’s here?’ variety.

  “Your course list is like a plate filled with every single food I refused to eat as a kid,” I told her.

  “I like my course list.”

  And then she broke into a full smile, and my heart skipped a beat. It was the same smile she gave me when we would do all the childish shit my friends were too cool to do with me in high school.

  Sneaking into movies without paying.

  Playing tag in the rain in the maze.

  Midnight drives way over the speed limit on a school night, because we just needed to get out of the house.

  She smiled less the older we got, but just now, it came so easily. I could tell already. She was different.

  I descended the steps slowly, one at a time, the auditorium having emptied a few minutes earlier after her class was over. She always stayed, though, and graded the pop quizzes after every lesson for the professor.

  Quite the little student now.

  “It’s a lot of politics, history, and sociology,” I remarked on her course list. “Why those classes?”

  She shrugged and dropped her eyes, looking thoughtful as she glanced back at the papers at her seat. She’d done most of my homework in high school, and it was always well above passing, so I knew she was smart and a quick learner. It gave me pause to hear she was in college, though. It never occurred to me she enjoyed it.

  “The world was small growing up,” she finally answered, looking up at me again. “Now, everything I learn makes it bigger. I want to know everything. Every person who walked before me. Every war fought. Every culture that breathes the same air. I can’t explain it, I just…”

  “You just did.” I stopped a few steps up, aggravated even though I didn’t want to be. I knew she meant me. Even though she didn’t come to live at my house until she was twelve, I was part of the reason her world was so small growing up. I wanted her to be happy, but I hadn’t outgrown that possessiveness. I still had a hard time being happy that she was happy, when the reason she was happy wasn’t because of me.

  And this—I looked around the room—it was one more thing taking her away from me. The bigger her world became, the farther away from me she got, and out of any emotion that I avoided, I hated loss the most.

  “I’m glad you’re in school,” I told her. “I never imagined you like this. But it suits you.”

  She was beautiful.

  And bright. Her dark brown hair hung down her back in loose curls, her jeans and short-sleeved black blouse fit a lot better than my clothes ever did, she wore lipstick and mascara, and the light caught the small ruby encrusted with diamonds on her left hand. Kai must’ve gotten her a proper ring after their quick nuptials.

  Fucking Kai. He’d clearly treated her how she deserved.

  But was she his now? Truly?

  I sighed, looking around. “I hated college.”

  “You hated being away from your family,” she corrected. “And I don’t mean Gabriel and me.”

  I clenched my jaw. Yeah.

  The year and two months I spent at college sucked, and even now, I look back on it as though time had been suspended as I existed without Michael, Will, and Kai.

  And her.

  “You were the only loner I knew who hated being alone,” she mused, gathering up her books and papers.

  “So what will you do?” I asked, changing the subject. “With your education, I mean?”

  “She’s already doing it.” A voice trailed down from the top of the stairs, and I glanced over my shoulder enough to see a skinny body with brown hair trot down.

  Alex.

  “She, Rika, and I are designing a curriculum for young women,” she said, stopping just above me. “Self-defense, survival, situational awareness, decision-making… We’re hoping to roll it out next summer, starting at Sensou.”

  Sensou. The dojo Kai, Rika, Will, and Michael owned together. Not with me.

  Self-defense, survival, situational awareness… People don’t need classes in that. You push someone in a pool, they learn how to swim quick enough.

  Banks stood up, bringing her satchel—weighed down and bulging with books and who knew what else with her. She looked up at me, explaining, “I want to empower people. That’s all I know for now.”

  “Ready for lunch?” Alex asked behind me, but I knew she wasn’t talking to me. They were probably meeting Rika, too, since they all went to school here at Trinity College.

  My sister walked past me, and I caught a little bow of her head, almost like an apology. It was subtle, and I hadn’t seen it in forever, but she used to do it all the time, didn’t she? Always little looks or gestures like that to handle me and my temper or keep me on an even keel.

  I inhaled a deep breath.

  I needed her. I needed an anchor.

  “Banks,” I said, and turned around slowly.

  She stopped and paused, standing there but not turning around. She didn’t want to deal with me, and she wasn’t going to have to. I was her big brother. I took care of her, not the other way around.

  “I’ll catch up,” she finally told Alex.

  Alex shot me a look, and I cocked an eyebrow, reminding her that she really didn’t like me upset.

  Her lips formed a tight line and she nodded at Banks, leaving the auditorium.

  Banks turned around, but she still wouldn’t look at me.

  We were only a few feet from each other, but all of a sudden, it felt like miles.

  I’d nearly killed my friend.

  I’d destroyed Kai’s business.

  I’d threatened her, had her guarded, and kept her practically caged.

  I was sorry for some things, not for others.

  I swallowed. “The way…the way I was with you…” I started, “I—”

  “You raised me,” she said, raising her eyes. “And who knows what would’ve happened to me if I’d stayed with my mother.”

  I waited for her to continue, not sure if she was just trying to make me feel better or if she really thought her life with me was worth it all.

  “I like who I am,” she told me. “I don’t hate you for a
nything.”

  And despite my slow, steady breaths and unwavering gaze on her, a little relief started to seep through my bones.

  I watched her leave the auditorium, looking a little less unsure than when I walked in.

  She didn’t trust me, and she might not choose me.

  But she was still with me. Even just a bit.

  That was something.

  I arrived back at the Ashby house—technically now my house—just after six and fucking starving. I had barely eaten all day, and even though I’d rather wait until late to come in, so I’d have to deal with Arion as little as possible, I wanted to see her. I wanted Winter at my dinner table tonight.

  “Hello, sir,” Crane said, opening the door for me.

  I walked into the house, hearing the driver pull off behind me, and charged immediately up the stairs as the wind outside whistled through the old wood and any cracks in window panes it had found.

  But there was no music or footsteps, and the upstairs was dark.

  I stopped, slipping my hand into my suit pocket.

  “Is anyone home?” I peered over my shoulder down to Crane.

  He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Ashby and Mrs. Torrance are on their way back from the city—shopping,” he clarified. “They’ll be here in time for dinner.”

  Mrs. Torrance. Jesus, fuck you.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a breath and waiting.

  “And…” he continued. “Miss Ashby is in the backyard.”

  I stopped breathing for just a moment. The backyard. I hated the way knowing that she was so close could give me pause.

  I locked my jaw and continued up the stairs.

  “She’s not alone, sir,” he called after me. “Mr. Grayson is here.”

  I halted. Will?

  “Please let me know if I shouldn’t have admitted him,” Crane rushed to add. “You only said—”

  “It’s fine,” I bit out.

  Continuing up the stairs, I barreled into my bedroom, throwing open the door so hard, the knob slammed into the wall. Charging over to the windows, I pulled back the gossamer curtain and peered down into the backyard, the view from the second floor spanning the terrace, pool, pool house, and wooded area beyond. I locked my gaze on them in the pool.