Jon swallows and slowly begins to back away from me. Carter never pulls the gun from his head as Jon pulls himself to a seated position. Carter moves the gun to Jon’s forehead and stares down at him.

“Apologize to her.”

Jon doesn’t waste a breath. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice shaking.

I pull my legs away from him and scramble off the couch. I back away from the couch, behind Carter. I bring my hand to my throat and rub at it, trying to massage away the pain from Jon’s grip.

Carter takes a step away from Jon, but keeps the gun pointed at him.

“I think we both have secrets we’d like to keep from Asa. You didn’t see me in the kitchen with Sloan and I didn’t see you forcing yourself on top of her. You agree?” Carter says to him.

I don’t know how I feel about that-being their bartering tool. But I know if Jon goes to Asa with his suspicions of what he saw between me and Carter in the kitchen-Asa will hurt Carter. And that’s the last thing I want.

Jon nods. “I never saw a thing.”

Carter says, “Good. We’re on the same page then.” He presses the tip of the gun back to Jon’s forehead, shoving Jon’s head against the back of the couch. “But if you touch Sloan again, I won’t even worry about having to inform Asa because I’ll fucking kill you myself.” Carter uses all his force to smash the gun against the side of Jon’s head. Jon doesn’t even have the chance to react. He falls against the arm of the couch-his whole body limp. Out cold from one blow to his head.

I’m staring in shock at Jon when I feel Carter’s hands grip my face. I glance up at him and he’s giving me the onceover, checking for injuries. “Are you okay?” he asks.

I nod. As soon as I start nodding, the tears start coming. Carter pulls me to him and my whole body starts to shake with sobs.

He runs his hand down the back of my head and presses his lips against my ear. “Sloan, I hate to ask you this because the last place I want you to be is with Asa right now. But you’re safer up there. Go to your room and don’t come out for the rest of the night, okay?”

I nod, because I know he’s right. Asa is the devil himself sometimes, but at least he would never allow anyone in the house to hurt me. Besides, he’s out cold. Just like Jon.

Carter walks me to the base of the stairs. “Do you have your cell phone on you?”

“Yes.”

“Call me if you need me tonight. Otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning,” he says, running a soothing hand over my cheek.

I completely forgot about tomorrow. I have school tomorrow. Class with Carter. The thought of being with him at school-away from all this shit-is the only thing I have to look forward to right now.

“Okay,” I say, my voice still shaking from the result of the last half hour.

He leans in and kisses me on the forehead, then releases me. Jon starts to stir on the couch, so Carter nods up the stairs, wanting me out of the room before Jon wakes up. I turn to walk up the stairs, in shock over how different life inside this house is compared to what it’s like outside this house.

Normally when someone gets attacked, it’s reported to the police. But inside this house, it’s handled internally. It’s used as a bargaining tool. And instead of going to the police, I go upstairs to a guy who is ten times more dangerous than the person who almost raped me.

But this house doesn’t follow the same rules as the outside world. This house is a prison with its own set of rules.

And Asa is the warden. Always has been.

I just don’t think Asa realizes that now that Carter is here, he could easily be overthrown.

I hope he never does realize it. Because that wouldn’t be good for any of us.

 ASA-21

ASA

My mouth is fucking dry. It tastes like I’ve been sucking on a goddamn towel all night.

I roll over to reach for one of the bottles of water Sloan always keeps by our bed. I can’t open my eyes because my whole head feels like it’s about to explode, so I feel around the nightstand until I find one. My hands are shaking. I already want another hit. This time I’ll be smart about it. I won’t do it when I’m so tore up on whiskey, I pass out and waste my fucking high like I did last night.

I bring the bottle of water to my mouth and down the entire contents in two huge gulps. I toss the empty bottle across the room and fall back onto my pillow.

I’m still thirsty.

I stretch out my arms and accidentally hit Sloan in the shoulder. I glance over at her, but my head is too groggy to focus. She rustles a little, but she doesn’t wake up. I look at the alarm clock and squint. It’s 4:30am. She still has two hours before she has to get up and get ready for school.

I give myself a minute to adjust to the darkness until I can see her really well. Then I roll onto my side and watch her sleep.

She sleeps on her back now. Never on her side, never on her stomach. When I was a kid, my dad always slept on his back, even when he’d pass out on the couch from whatever substance he was abusing that day. I asked him why he slept like that once and he said, “When you’re on your back, you’re prepared for anything. It’s easier to wake up and protect yourself. If you get too comfortable, you’re left off guard.”

It makes me wonder if Sloan sleeps on her back as a protective method. Then it makes me wonder if she sleeps on her back to protect herself from me.

No. She doesn’t fear me like that. She fucking worships me.

She used to sleep on her stomach, though. Maybe I just need to buy a new mattress. Maybe she just doesn’t like this bed.

She also used to sleep naked, but she hasn’t done that in over a year. She claims it’s because there are too many people in this house and she doesn’t feel comfortable. It used to bother me when I’d crawl on top of her at night, only to find she was wearing fucking pajamas and I couldn’t slide inside of her until after I got them off of her.

After complaining enough, she finally compromised and only sleeps in a t-shirt now. Easier access, but I’d still rather her be naked.

I pull the covers down, careful not to wake her. Sometimes I just like to look at her while she sleeps. I like to think she’s dreaming about me. Sometimes I touch her, just soft enough not to wake her, but enough to make her moan in her sleep.

Her t-shirt is bunched up around her waist. I lift it, slowly, inch by inch until her breasts are exposed. And then I lean back, reaching under the covers and into my boxers. I grip myself and begin stroking as I watch her sleep-watch her soft breasts move up and down with each slow breath she inhales.

She’s so fucking beautiful. All that long dark hair. Those lashes. That mouth. I’ve honestly never seen another girl as beautiful as her in real life.I knew she’d be mine the first time I laid eyes on her. I couldn’t allow something this perfect to be with anyone else.

But I wouldn’t allow myself to pursue her right away, because I liked the way she looked at me. I could see the innocence in her eyes as she would stare at me in class. I made her curious. And even though I pretended not to notice her, she made me curious. I could tell she was different from any girl I’d ever been with.