Chapter 6: Abel Goes Further

By the third Friday I knew all their footsteps.

Denton came in on the right foot first, and always stopped at the foot of the bed to take his glasses off.

Tucker came last and stayed near the door.

Byron came in between them and sat by my head, and took my hand.

Abel came in loud, even on tiptoe.

He had been drinking since six.

I heard it in how he breathed, and in the way the bed shook when he sat down.

"Same rules?" Denton whispered. "Above the waist, and I check her."

"Sure," Abel said. "Same rules."

He did not sound sincere.

Denton laid his palm on my stomach, warm and steady, and I turned toward it, a sleeper looking for heat.

I had gotten good at this.

I let my head roll toward Tucker's side when I wanted him to stay and away when I wanted nothing.

I had learned that if I sighed at the right moment, Denton slowed down and Tucker went quiet and none of them thought to ask why.

For two weeks they had been careful with me.

Tonight Abel was not.

"This is boring," he said, low, at the foot of the bed. "She's a rag doll. I want her warm."

"Abel," Byron said.

"I want her to move."

"She's under, and she's staying under."

"She's got pills in her. So what? She's twenty-five, Ron. She's been in your house for a year, eating your food. She's yours, or she's nobody's."

I stopped breathing.

Byron's hand tightened on mine so hard it hurt.

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