Chapter 6 A Better Devil

Jordan’s Point of View

By the time I left Killian’s house, my body was trembling, my teeth almost clattering against each other. Even though Mrs. Benita wanted me to stay for dinner, I left because I couldn’t stay one more second with that devil.

I need to go and prepare myself mentally… I sucked in a shaky breath, my chest still pounding hard, and my lips quivering.

Fuck! Fuck!

I tried so hard not to think about it, but I couldn’t; tears formed in my eyes as I walked down the street. Just when I thought everything was working for me, and I would finally be free from him—then this happened.

I knew there had to be a catch; things had been working way too well.

And now it was the worst possible scenario, but what am I going to do? Leave five freaking thousand dollars because I have a phobia? I shook my head; there has to be a way I could get him to back off me while I work in his house.

It’s either that or I end up dying in my uncle’s house, and if I had to choose between two extremes, I am safer in Killian’s place.

Even though he almost drowned me yesterday, I’m certain he won’t hit me—not while I’m in his house.

I’m still willing to take that chance.

My heart tightened again, and this time, it’s not because of Killian; it’s because my eyes met Collin, my cousin, and Uncle Greg’s first son who is about three years older than me.

He was at the front porch of the house, holding a wrap in his hand. His eyes met mine, and I threw my gaze sideways, pretending like I didn’t see anything. I gripped my bag even tighter as I tried to maneuver past him.

“You’ll tell on me, won’t you?” He asked as he threw the wrap on the ground, and stepped on it, putting the flames out.

“I didn’t see anything,” I muttered, but he grabbed me by the front of my dress and shoved me. My back slammed hard against the wooden railing, and I felt something dig into my back.

Tears automatically spilled from my eyes, falling to my cheeks from how painful it was.

“I swear, I’m not going to tell anyone about it,” I begged… Collin suffers from an addiction problem; he did every bad thing available in the book.

He smokes, drinks, and gambles; it was so bad that he dropped out of high school twice. He was practically expelled from his last school, and now he is supposed to be in therapy.

He is deceiving his parents into thinking that he is getting better; meanwhile, he does these things in secret.

But if he didn’t want to be found out, why was he smoking on the porch?

He pressed the tip of his shoe against my cheek, and I groaned.

“I will kill you.” He threatened. “One word to my father, and I will throw you from the roof.”

I nodded.

“I won’t tell him.”

Not like Uncle Greg would listen to me anyway, and now I realized the person who had been stealing my uncle’s money was most probably Collin, and I had been getting my ass kicked because of it.

I coughed the moment I stepped inside my room, reaching in front of the worn-out, supposed standing mirror, whose bottom half had been broken. I checked the part of my back that was slammed into the railing on the porch.

“Ouch…” I hissed as I touched the area, noticing a small gash with blood pooling from the injury.

Yes, this furthermore reinforces my point: over there, the only enemy I’m against is Killian, but here—my uncle and his entire family are against me.

I quickly brought out my suitcase and folded whatever junk of my clothes I could find inside it, while I ignored the tears that rolled down my cheeks. I don’t care what Killian had to say; I was going to survive—it’s only for three months; it cannot be that bad.

---

I woke up earlier today because Mrs. Benita told me her flight was at 10 A.M. and she would like to personally introduce me to her other children before she leaves.

So, I grabbed my suitcase and carried it downstairs. I could hear movements in the living room; I already knew it was Uncle Greg. He usually woke up early, before any of us in the house.

I dropped the box at the end of the stairs before proceeding towards the living room, where Uncle Greg was, all dressed for work and having his morning coffee. The moment he saw me, his grey eyes narrowed almost immediately, and he grimaced.

“Good morning, Unc—” He interrupted me before I could finish.

“If it’s the bus fare you’re here for, then I don’t have it.” He growled, and I felt myself jolted by his aggressiveness. “You should probably start walking along.”

I let out a shaky breath, because I knew that, depending on how I approached this, I was promised a very good beating.

“That’s not the reason I’m here.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Make it quick then.” He dropped the cup and leaned back.

“I will be staying out of the house,” I answered, my voice shook despite myself, and then his glare flickered towards me. “I will be staying with a friend for three months.”

“Is this a joke?” His glare deepened.

“No—” The words barely left my mouth when he stood up, reaching his full height.

And I moved back, terribly frightened; my eyes flickered towards his already balled fists, and I took note of the time he probably swung his fist so I could dodge it.

“Are you trying to run away?”

“No, I promise I will come home during the week,” I assured him. “I-It’s just that we will be working on a school project, and it’s important. I’m close to her.”

His eyes narrowed.

“If I don’t see you, I will come to your school.” He promised, nearing me; I could hear the floorboard creaking under the weight of such a big man. “And you don’t want me to do that.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“You know, I contracted the lawyers last week,” He continued, reaching for his cup of coffee. “You are getting old, but it’s kind of slow. The trust funds your parents left you, you can’t access them until you’re 25.”

He continued, and my heart quickened, because I knew where this conversation was leading.

“Don’t fucking know what my little brother was thinking.” He continued. “You will be getting to college at the end of the year, and I have no money to pay for it.”

“I will get some jobs in between and pay for it.” I offered; it’s not like he is paying for my high school.

I got into school on a scholarship program.

“Make me your trustee. I can manage the money for you until you're old enough to access it yourself.”