Misty’s bottom lip trembles, and for a second I think she’s upset because he’s coercing her.
“I . . . I’m sorry, Royal.” My heart stops in my chest with her words. “I . . . I do love Rick. I love him so much.”
That forty-year-old asshole wears his smug smile loud and proud. “See. Told you.”
“You’re a kid, Mis. You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re addicted. He’s got you all addicted, and you’re afraid to be without him.” I reach for her, trying to pull her into me. “Come on. You’re coming home with me. We’re getting you out of this shit hole. You need to get clean.”
Misty shakes her head, fat tears sliding down puffy, bruised cheeks.
“Why’d you text me?” My voice is low, not like it makes a difference. Rick is watching our every move with a celebratory smile because he knows nothing I’m saying is going to get through to Misty.
That’s how it works with addicts. Addiction always wins. Addiction always gets the last word.
“I thought you were in trouble. That’s why I came,” I say. “What happened?”
Rick squeezes her shoulders before patting her back. Hard.
“She just had a little performance anxiety, that’s all,” he says, slicking a wet tongue across his crooked teeth. “Was her first time. She was a little nervous.”
Without thinking, I pull back and sock him across his jaw with a right hook. He stumbles backward, knocking over an empty plant stand and hitting the back of his head on the wall so hard it leaves a dent.
He seems out of it for a second, so I hook Misty’s arm and pull her toward the door.
“We’re leaving.” I’m seething, my hand balled into a pained fist and throbbing.
She jerks her arm back. “I don’t want to.”
Rick rises, gains his footing, and stumbles my way, looking like he’s two seconds from charging me like a linebacker into a quarterback. Almost in slow motion, he rears back and then lunges. Misty blocks him and he pushes her to the ground. She yelps when she lands on her elbow, and I fall to her side.
“You, okay?” I ask.
She squeezes her arm with her opposite hand and nods, her teeth digging into her lower lip.
“Come on, let’s go.” I pull her to her feet. As soon as I get her to my truck, I’m calling the police to deal with him. And I’ll make damn sure he’s sent away for a good, long time for statutory rape. Drug possession and distribution. Assault. Anything and everything.
“You’re not going anywhere with her.” Rick grabs her by the wrist, nearly snapping it, and yanks her away like a fucking rag doll.
I bet Misty doesn’t weigh a pound over eighty.
“Baby doll, you know I love you. I’d never do anything to hurt you.” Rick combs his meaty fingers through her hair and she stares up into his eyes with equal parts love and fear. “That was a misunderstanding upstairs. That wasn’t me. You’re just so damn sexy, I couldn’t keep my hands off you. I couldn’t wait. And you were so good.”
I’m going to be sick.
“Baby, I need you. Don’t go with him. He’s your brother, but he ain’t never gave two shits about you. Only pops up when you’re in trouble, like he’s some kind of babysitter or some shit.”
My chest burns. I fucking hate that Rick’s right. I should’ve been here more for my sister. I should’ve been around for the good times and not just the bad.
“You still love me?” Rick asks, flashing deceptive puppy dog eyes at my sister.
I’m sure she’s starved for those words. It wouldn’t surprise me if she can count on two hands the number of times she’s heard those words in her life. And I’m sure Rick knows it. He’s capitalizing on this broken, fragile girl who wanted nothing more than for someone to give two fucks about her.
“You know I’d do anything for you, babe.” Rick kisses her forehead, pretending I’m not standing there. His voice is soft and tender, like a loving partner, like someone who wants to protect her, keep her safe and warm and happy. He’s not acting like he just fucking raped and beat her an hour ago. “You’re my world, Sugar Bee.”
Misty smiles.
Fucking smiles.
“He’s manipulating you.” My fingers hook on my belt loops, and I shake my head. “Don’t listen to him, Misty. He fucking raped you. You’re leaving with me. And I’m calling the police. Rick’s a fucking monster, and I’m going to make sure he’s locked up for fucking decades.”
Misty’s smile fades, and her eyes grow round. She turns to Rick, grabbing the fabric of his shirt and clinging onto him like she clung to me a little bit ago. I recognize that look on her face. She’s terrified. Terrified of losing the only man who makes her feel loved. And coincidentally, the only man who keeps her addiction nice and satiated.
“Don’t let him, Sugar Bee,” Rick coos. “Police come, they’re gonna lock me up for good. Send me away. You’ll never see me again, ‘cept for maybe when you’re testifying against me in court. You wouldn’t want to do that now, would you? Send me away? Ain’t nobody ever gonna love you like I do. You know that.”
Misty nods, licking the tears off her lips.
“And shit, they’ll lock you up too,” Rick adds. “You know they’ll find every reason they can to stick you in juvie, and you don’t belong in there. You wouldn’t want to be sent away, would you, babe?”
She looks to me, then to Rick, then to me again.
“I love him, Royal.” Her words are jagged and defeated. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I love him so much. And he’s right. You only come around when I’m in trouble. Rick’s always been here, having my back, loving on me like I’m the greatest thing in the world.”
Taking a fistful of my hair, I tug on the ends and stare at the grimy carpet so hard my eyes hurt. She thinks she’s in love and fucking Rick is her first love. I know firsthand how powerful first loves are. That bond, whether rational or irrational, is impenetrable.
“You are, baby,” Rick adds, rubbing circles into her bony back. “You’re the best thing in the world. Shit, baby, you are my world.”
I refuse to stand here and watch him do this to her. She’s too young to see what’s going on, and she’s too addicted to care.
But I care. I fucking care. And I blame myself for this.
I’ve had a truck since the day I turned sixteen. I could’ve come around more. Sure, it’s a three-hour drive, but I could’ve made the effort to be around more, to be a better influence and to spend more time with her.
This is all my fault. I’ve failed her as an older brother. But I’m going to fix it now.
“Come on, Misty.” I yank her by the arm and pull her to the door a final time. My grip on her wrist feels like it might break her, but I’m not letting go. She’s coming with me, and there’s not a damn thing she can do about it.
“Royal, let go!” Misty squirms and fidgets, pulling against me like a puppy fighting its leash. “I don’t wanna go with you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”
Misty thrashes her arms and kicks my shins, her head flying from side to side and causing her hair to stick to her tear-streaked face.