“Why would you do that?”
“I want you to stay here. I could give ya a comfortable life if you'd allow me to.”
“By blackmailing me?” I fume, any nervousness forgotten. I'm too angry, and what gave him the impression that I don't bite when backed into a corner?
“Ya know, any other fugitive would be chomping at the bit for an opportunity like this,” he snaps, avoiding my question.
“Yeah, like those prisoners you killed?” I mock. “What makes you think I'm a fugitive anyway?”
“Aw, come on, I may be old and a bit behind on the times, but I ain't stupid. You expect me to believe that a young lady like yerself hasn't done illegal things to get by?”
I open my mouth to respond, but he's forging on.
“Prostitutin' yerself, no doubt. Maybe even stealin' from people. Either way, you ain't free of sin. And I bet them cops would be happy to hear about your whereabouts.”
For several seconds, the only thing I'm capable of is gaping at him. I knew Sylvester wasn't as friendly as he pretended to be, but I never thought he'd take things this far.
My fight or flight instincts have been activated, and I’m shooting to my feet, even as I try to process the situation. Clearly, he's not going to just let me go. I feel so stupid for not seeing the depths of his loneliness before. Isolation has driven him mad, and he's become desperate.
But while I may be a runner, I’m sure as hell not a fucking doormat. I will always fight back. That's something Kev learned the hard way, and something Sylvester will learn, too.
“You're right. I have done bad things to survive, and I'm definitely not free of sin. So don't be mistaken and think you will be an exception,” I snarl.
Sylvester's expression turns thunderous, my only warning before he stands and backhands me across the face, its force sending me crashing to my ass.
He points down at me and growls, “That is the last time you will disrespect me in my own home.”
Then, he's charging toward the staircase as quickly as the wooden peg will allow.Reeling, it takes me a second to clear the stars from my vision, fire lancing across my cheek, and blood pooling in my mouth. I've had terrible things happen to me, but even Kev has never hit me like that.
“What are you doing?” I call, panicked as he rushes up the steps.
Scrambling to my feet, I chase after him, making it to the top of the stairs right when he raises his shotgun and points it directly at Enzo, who is halfway down the hallway, a fierce expression on his face.
At some point, he must've grabbed the gun on his way up.
“Get back in yer room, son,” Sylvester warns, his tone steady as if trying not to set off a wild bear.
“Not going to happen,” Enzo growls, prompting Sylvester to pump the forearm on the gun, a clear threat.
I swear to God, if he shoots, I will kick him in the peg and feel no remorse.
As if disturbed by the commotion, the sound of dragging chains interrupts whatever Sylvester was going to say. His head snaps up, glaring at the ceiling as the restless spirit paces across the floor, its footsteps heavy.
“You've made ’em angry,” he spits over his shoulder.
“Me?” I echo, taken aback. “You’re the one acting crazy.”
“You haven’t seen crazy, young lady. Now get in there!” The moment the last word leaves his mouth, the footsteps above freeze, heightening the sound of his voice to a thunderous level.
Get inwhere?
My question is quickly answered when it registers that he’s motioning with the gun in the direction of his room.
My eyes widen impossibly further.
“Fuck no,” I bark. “I’mnotstaying with you.”
Enzo steps toward the unhinged man, but Sylvester notices and thrusts his gun at him.