Page 273 of Faking the Goal

"You scared of me, kitten?" he whispers.

His hand slides down my side and I go perfectly still, my breath catching in my throat.

Tears stream down my temples into my hair. "Please stop," I beg, my voice thin and broken. "It hurts."

He leans down and licks a tear from my cheek. The wet drag of his tongue against my skin makes my stomach lurch. I squeeze my eyes shut and press my palms flat against his chest, pushing with everything I have, but he doesn't shift even slightly. He's so much stronger.

"Your parents—" I sob. "They're right outside. I'll scream if you don't stop."

He laughs, low and dark, as though I've just said something funny. "Go on then," he snarls. "Scream."

The scream rises into my throat...

...and dies there.

My mouth won't open.

I can only stare at him while my whole body trembles. His eyes never leave mine, and I don't need him to say another word. I've seen that look before. I know exactly what it means. One scream. One word. One person finding out...

...and Snowy dies.

"You don't want me to hurt her, do you?" he asks, his voice suddenly soft, almost gentle, as though he's comforting me instead of terrifying me. "I don't want to, but you know I will if you open your mouth."

Snowy, my pet kitten, is outside somewhere, probably curled beneath the porch with her white tail wrapped around her tiny body, waiting for me to bring her food in the morning. The thought of her makes the pressure in my throat hurt even more.

My lips begin to tremble.

I shake my head quickly, tears spilling down my cheeks no matter how hard I try to stop them. "Please don't hurt Snowy."

A slow smile spreads across his face.

"Then be my good little kitten."

I squeeze my eyes shut and picture Snowy. I think about the softness of her fur, the tiny vibration of her purr against my chest, and the way she follows me around the yard as though I'm the only person in the world who matters to her. I hold on to that image while the room grows smaller around me and the laughter from the television rises through the wall, swallowing every sound I'm too frightened to make.

The memory fractures after that. The stained ceiling above me. My fingernails digging into my palms. His voice close to my ear, calling me his little kitten. The horrible sensation of wanting to crawl out of my own skin and having nowhere to go.

I want to scream, but Snowy's life is trapped behind my teeth.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

When I open them again, I'm standing in the kitchen.

Warm sunlight spills across the floor, and Snowy's little bowl rests in my hands as though it has always been there.

For a second, I just stand there. Something feels... strange.

I can't explain why.

Then I remember Snowy is probably waiting for breakfast, and the uneasy feeling slips away as I hurry to find her. I push outside and walks toward the porch, expecting her to come running the moment she hears me.

"Snowy," I call. "I brought your breakfast."

Nothing moves beneath the steps.

I crouch and peer into the shadows, but she isn't there. The small nest of old towels I made for her is empty, so I stand and walk toward the bushes beside the house, calling her name again.

"Snowy?"