Malum

Tillie

Emotions. Human emotions, to be exact, can be rather a

“You’re doing that thing again…” Peyton says, flicking her fork in the air to accentuate her point. At least, that’s what I think she’s doing. “Do you not like your di

I grind my teeth in an attempt to ignore the verbal jab on a subject that she realistically knows nothing about. “No, Peyton, it’s not the di

She shrugs her plump shoulders, the tips of her red hair bouncing from the movement. She has gained weight over the years, but it looks good on her. Of course it does. See what I mean—not related. “Suit yourself.” I watch as she continues to shovel spoon after spoon of food into her mouth when Carter clears his throat.

“Tillie, are you aware of what we are telling you? Do you know how important this is?”

“Important what is, Carter? The fact that you want me to go back to my life with my best friends and carry on like nothing has happened in hopes of gaining dirt for The Circle?” I choke on my words, unable to say them aloud.

He grins. I have to squeeze my fist underneath the table to stop it from flying across the table and clipping him in the jaw.

I hate Carter with enough fire to burn the world down.

I recollect myself, picking up my glass and taking a sip of water. I allow it to slide down my throat before I gather my next words. “I’m not going to do it. I’m not a snitch, Peyton, and I will not draw my friends out to get hurt.”

“Oh but you will,” Carter counters, slowly lifting his drink into the air and gri

Something sharp caresses my heart at his tone, but I swallow down the fear and answer, “She’s in her crib.”

Realization sinks into my bones at the thought of what he and Peyton are capable of. They wouldn’t hurt her, Tillie. Chill. I shoot up from the table.

Carter’s eyes only darken, a devious smirk towing across his mouth. I run out of the room instantly, the adrenalin seizing my limbs. Long, dark walls of the hallway melt to a puddle under my feet as my heart thunders in my chest. One step. Two steps. You’re almost there.

She wouldn’t touch her. She wouldn’t. Micaela, in Peyton’s sick mind, is the leverage that she has over me. As long as she has my daughter, she knows that I am the puppeteer and she’s pulling the strings. If she so much as touches a hair on Micaela’s head, that snaps all the ropes and releases the monster she abetted to craft. I was beaten as a child. Continuously. I am not only on a first name basis with abuse, but he and I go way back.

Entering my bedroom, silence falls around me with nothing but the pitter-patter of my light footsteps.

I suck in a breath as I reach the crib. My eyes close. I open them— “Peyton!” I scream, spi

Peyton is sitting at the head of the table, a fork with potato hanging an inch away from her mouth.

I attentively step closer. “I swear to God, Peyton, you have roughly five seconds to tell me where the fuck she is before I rip your goddam throat out.”

Her eyes flick over my shoulder where guards stand, strapped with automatic weapons. “See, I think you won’t, because you can’t, Tills. Because I own you. I always have, and truthfully, I probably always will.” She pats her mouth dry. “Now. If you take a seat, I can explain exactly what is going to happen from here on out, and you will nod and agree like a good little girl, or I will” —her eyes pierce mine, pi

She went there.

I collapse onto a chair, my throat swelling. “God, Peyton, when did you turn so dark.” I’m disappointed in myself for not taking her evil seriously. I never would have thought she would lower herself to harming me, let alone threatening her twelve-week-old niece. I see it now, though. I see whoever it is that’s working behind the scenes has taken control of her. There’s no saving her now. I know this. The realization slaps me across the face like a heavy backhand. She’s my enemy, and I am hers.

Peyton giggles, swiping her hair out of her face. “Probably around the same time you tried to steal my boyfriend, Tillie. Now, I am truly sorry that I have to do this to you. Or I’m not, I can’t really decide, but maybe.” She leans forward, her eyes slicing through me. “It is your fault for the life that you live, did you ever think of that?”

“Fuck you!”

Rage bubbles beneath my skin. “You so much as breathe near her, Peyton, I’ll burn you in your sleep and dance around your corpse. The only reason I haven’t done something drastically insane is because of Micaela.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the hard wood table. “So give your niece a kiss. She’s the only reason you’re still breathing right now.” I know that if I kill Peyton, there’s a chance someone will harm Micaela. I’m not open to gambling on her future. I don’t care for the idealism of perfect parenting. The perfect mother is one who is the best version that she can be, not something the media and society state they should be. I mean, look at who Micaela’s father is… who I am.

My thoughts go back to Peyton and her stupid comment about her—whatever he was to her. Boyfriend? Hardly.

“What boyfriend?”

She’s had many over the years, and yeah, they’ve all mostly enjoyed my company more than hers. That’s mainly because she tries too hard to please people. When she would be dressing up in short skirts with a face full of makeup for movie nights, I’d be in the living area of our trailer with my Ren and Stimpy pajamas on.

Her face morphs into hatred, her eyebrows pulling in tight enough for wrinkles to form on her head. “Jase always preferred you.” She exhales. Jase as in the older Jase Venari. He was hardly her boyfriend and she was shared amongst him and a couple others. “Fuck Jase and fuck you. I’ll bring you all down now. I’ll do it for our mom, for our name as a Stuprum, for it all,” she whispers, standing from her chair to glare at me. “You will get your daughter back when you’ve done as I’ve said. Comprende?”

I grit my teeth. “How do I know you are taking care of her, Peyton?” Peyton clicks her fingers, and I turn in my chair when I hear the door open behind me.

The nurse who helped deliver Micaela, Jessica appears, holding Micaela in her arms. Micaela smiles up at Jessica, her small little hand coming to her neck.

My mouth opens slightly, as I battle with the biggest war that lives inside of me. Trust. Trust is the hardest to deliver, but the easiest emotion to receive. When my eyes clash with Jessica’s, I can see her silent reassurance. She will take care of it. I know this. At least until I’ve satisfied this sadistic bitch that is my sister. A guard yanks Jessica back through the door, and I twist back around to look at Peyton.

“What the hell do you want,” I seethe, gritting my teeth.

She smiles, relaxing back into her chair to continue eating. “I’m glad I have your loyalty, sis. Sit.”