28. Peris

“Peris Oliver! Would you just—”

“Ma, I’ve got it. Quit hovering, and chop the tomatoes.”

“Well, I would if you’d stir it!”

“I just did one minute ago! They’re not gonna stick!”

Ma huffs out a breath, blowing her hair back from her face. She lifts the knife and points it at me. “Fine, but if you ruin my lovely dinner?—”

“Oh, your dinner?” I arch a brow. “I thought it was our dinner. Yanno, since we’re all cooking it.”

Her eyes roll. “Smartass.”

I beam at her as I stir the fucking pasta. “That’s me.”

Abel giggles, the sound cutting straight through me. He’s looked so happy all day.

Is it what I said? Or is it just today…

My gut clenches, and I fist the wooden spoon so tight, my knuckles ache. When I look over at him on Ma’s right, his head is tossed back, white-blonde locks slightly wavy in the middle from his braids.

His cheeks are flushed, pale skin shimmering in the bright lights. His sweatshirt is fucking huge, skimming his mid-thighs, and his sweatpants aren’t much better.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in sweatpants before.

I stare a little harder, absentmindedly stirring the pasta as I do. The pants are black, and they look nice, and I’m definitely not checking him out—the way his pert little ass is invisible through the layers of clothing, but I know it’s there.

How his legs are so fucking long, even though he’s short as shit. Legs that are now hairless and soft and covered in scars he puts on himself. But I think a lot are also from… well—not from him.

He prefers his deformed smiley faces.

Abel catches me staring, eyes clashing in the short space between us—a space that contains my mother. I glance away, but it’s too late.

He’s watching me now. Always heavy and prickly and goddamned frustrating.

When Ma finishes slicing the tomatoes, she washes her hands and calls out, “brB, gotta pee!”

“Ma, how many times do I have to tell you—don’t talk in text abbreviations!”

“I do what I want!” she shouts down the hall, and then, the door slams. I snort and shake my head. And then, I remember I’m alone with Abel for the first time since I woke up alone on the couch. Since I found my mother and my runt gossiping at the kitchen table like a couple of old ladies in a group home at teatime.

“You’re wearing my pants,” I remark aloud. Abel hums as he chops more spinach, placing small piles at a time into a big bowl to his right.

“Why?”

“Why not?” I watch his eyebrows lift, but I don’t get any more than his small smile.

“Look at me,” I snap softly. The knife clatters against the counter. It’s a piercing noise—one that makes me twitch seconds before Abel spins around and walks right into my space, pushing me back. I nearly trip over my feet at the hot press of his small, little body.

When his hands are firmly planted on the counter, on either side of my waist, he looks up. Lashes blonde once more, gray eyes forever penetrative.

“Well?” he asks. And I’m confused. I stare at his mouth, the way it moves to form each word. “I’m looking at you.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Abel licks his lips, a slow tease of his tongue. His wicked, wicked tongue.

The sound of the toilet flushing echoes through the walls. Neither of us step apart.

My hands find solace against his waist. The bunch of cotton. The sharp slope to bone.

Abel presses on his tiptoes. Hot breath mingles. Stinging and burning. And then, his chapped lips are on me. I part my mouth, expecting the jarring clash of teeth and tongue—because that’s what we are—but it never comes.

My eyes open, and I stare down at Abel. His are closed so softly, eyelashes skimming his cheekbones as he leans against me. Lips to mine. Not moving, not fighting.

Not even tasting.

Just touching.

And then, footsteps resound, and he pulls away, face blushed so prettily, it makes me sick.

By the time Ma reenters the kitchen, I’m still leaned against the counter, dumbfounded.

“What happened to you?” she asks as she stirs the pasta, then turns the burner off. “Earth to Peris.” She snaps her fingers. “Hello.”

I blink. My eyes come back into focus. “What?”

“Jeez, where’d you go?” she asks with a laugh, carrying the pot to the sink to strain it.

I squeeze my nape before yanking on my hair. She catches the gesture, so I drop my hands. So now, I feel fucking awkward, but it’s better than showing my tells.

Why the fuck does everyone read me so well?

Am I as transparent as a fucking plate glass?

“Tired,” I mutter pathetically.

“Uh-huh…”

“Are we gonna finish this food or what? I’m starving.” And like my stomach knows I need to put on a show, it rumbles loud enough to be heard. Mom tosses her head back with a laugh that makes my chest ache.

She’s been so happy since Abel showed up, and I’m fucking ruining it.

Forever selfish.

“All right, all right.” She dumps a few things before grabbing Abel’s bowl of spinach. “Grab the cheese, babe?”

“Sure,” Abel and I both say at the same time. And then, we laugh in sync, and it’s… not bad.

I back off, letting him grab the parmesan while I pull out bowls. Ma fills them up and hands them back to me so I can set the table. It’s not until I’ve finished and Mom is grabbing glasses for drinks that I notice Abel has disappeared.

I step into the living room and peer over the sofa, but he’s not there. Frowning, I trudge down the darkened hallway, the sliver of light radiating from beneath the bathroom door guiding my way.

My knuckles rap on the door. “Dinner’s done.” There’s a clank, followed by a clatter, and then, a curse.

“Shit.” A hiss reaches by ears, then he says, “Yeah, okay. I-I’ll be out in a minute.” My eyes narrow, and I press my ear to the door, but it’s eerily quiet now apart from my breath. I try the handle, but it doesn’t budge. Just as I make the decision to storm into the kitchen to grab something to pop it open, it flies open.

I stumble over the threshold and ram right into an unsuspecting Abel. He yelps as we collide, and something flies from his fingers in a flash of pink before clattering to the floor.

I stare down at the lighter, cast in shadows but still so fucking bright.

“What the hell is that?” I ask, barely more than a whisper.

“A lighter,” Abel snarks. Defensive once more.

My molars snap together and grind. I step forward, backing him into the room. When we’re in the dark, I kick the door shut behind us, covering us in the darkness, my heart hammering and radiating down both my arms.

“Peris,” he grates, hand fisted at his sides. And I want to laugh. I want to laugh so loud, it burns my throat and sends the roof collapsing in on us.

That would feel better than… than whatever the fuck this churning, aching heat inside me is.

My hands vibrate as I flip the light switch. Abel winces under the flood of light, but I don’t even blink. All I see is him and that fucking flush to his cheekbones. The beads of perspiration dampening his hair around his scalp. The char on his goddamn thumb when I bring it closer with a grip that grinds his bones.

“Show me.”

He balks. “Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me, Abel. I want to see.”

“W-why?” he stutters.

I frown. I don’t like that question. The peek of fresh bruises just below his collar has me moving before I can really think of the consequences. Abel’s back slams into the wall so hard, he grunts.

“What’s going on?” Ma calls, her voice a whisper of clarity I don’t want right now.

“Be out in a sec!” I call before pinning Abel in place with my forearm as I reach down to drop his pants—my pants.

They pool around his ankles at the release of the string, baring flesh. I step back, even as Abel struggles. And I’ll give the runt credit; he’s a lot stronger than he looks, but the sight of those bright red smiley burns brings out a whole new brand of strength I didn’t know I possessed.

My arm crushes his larynx, making him gag. His nails score my flesh, but I don’t feel the sting. Or his feet as they kick me. Or his loss of breath.

And then…

He fucking slaps me.

My head whips to the side, and I’m stuck on stupid long enough for him to scramble away, hands clutching my too-big pants as he rushes out of the bathroom, bare feet thundering down the hall before fading away.

I cup my cheek, smirking at the warmth radiating. It’s… disorienting. Being so pissed off I feel like I could strangle him to death while also being so fucking hard, my junk aches.

I scratch at my chin, rubbing back and forth over my index finger as I stand, in the dark, alone.

At least there’s never a dull moment with Abel around.

“Feisty little pup,” I muse to myself. It fits so well with his oscillating behavior, but I can never just… get a fucking grip on him.

What happened that made him… that made him want to… do that?

“Peris, get your ass out here!” I jolt, swallowing the pressure in my throat.

“Coming!” I bend down and swipe up Abel’s lighter, pocketing it for later. Because if he thinks the fucking conversation is over, he’s going to have a rude awakening when Ma leaves for work.

He can’t run from me then.

I won’t let him run at all anymore.

Feeling appeased for the moment, I saunter into the kitchen with a smirk and plop down in my chair. Both pairs of eyes are on me, but I pay them no mind as I shovel food into my mouth.

“Damn, this is good.” I nod while chewing, cheeks puffed out. Mom swats my arm.

“Manners, Peris. I taught you better than that.”

I shrug and gulp my soda, eyes pinned on Abel’s as I say, “Abel’s rubbing off on me, I guess.” His eyes shoot open wide, lips parting at my blatant innuendo. I wink as I take another bite.

Mom’s none the wiser.

“Peris,” he mouths—a warning I promptly ignore.

Tapping my fork on the rim of my bow, I ask, “So, when ya leaving for work?”

“Why? Ready to get rid of me?”

“Yep. Can’t kick Abel’s ass when you’re here.” My tone is light. Fun. Teasing.

Abel’s throat rolls with a gulp. He still hasn’t touched his food.

“Haha,” she deadpans. I smile as I shovel more in, feeling so much better as time ticks down to having Abel all to myself. To finally getting some answers out of him.

“Abel, aren’t you—” I’m cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Ma and I exchange a glance, both of us confused, before we turn to Abel. His eyes bounce between us, and then, he shrugs.

“Well, I guess I’ll get that.” I push away from the table to answer the door, eyes darting to the clock on my way out.

“Who the fuck is showing up at six o’clock on a Saturday?” I mutter to myself as I twist the knob, irritated I have to deal with people right now.

Two is more than enough for my current state of mind. That being all things Abel Silver.

“Can I help you?” I ask as I stare at two people I’ve never fucking seen a day in my life, ne of which is a taller guy with a shiny, bald head and muscles for days, dressed head to toe in some variance of black. The other is a woman, short with bright, blonde hair and a weathered face.

I look over both of them. The guy avoids my gaze, but the woman? She stares right back, wrinkled mouth pursed as I meet gray eyes.

It all sinks to the fucking floor.

“Hi, I’m Bill?—”

“Bill, like…” My eyes are still darting between them. Seconds tick by. It all feels so wrong when the echoes resound, the name jogging a memory. “You’re Abel’s social worker.” I remember Abel telling me that the night I broke into his room.

Bill nods once, sharply. “I am.” His eyes dart behind me. “Look, is your mom home? I know she works nights?—”

“What’s going on?” I feel the vibration in my bones. It’s a loud hum. But it burns.

“Peris, who is it, baby?” Mom says from behind me.

“I—” I snap my jaw shut, gaze traveling back to the woman I think I recognize.

Her eyes are tight, but she gives me a crooked smile that sends a chill rippling down my spine. When she sticks her hand out, wrinkled, tattooed skin is all I see.

“I’m Lucy Silver. Abel’s mom.”

I stumble back, expecting to fall against the wall, but instead, I fall into the body of my mother. Her hands wrap around my biceps, steadying me as she stares over my shoulder. I glance up, something sick curling in my gut.

Rotten. Bad.

Something that doesn’t belong but has now made its home.

“Can I help you?” Mom’s voice is the sharpest, the coldest, I’ve heard it in years. Since… since Luke.

Just as the woman—fuck, Abel’s mom—opens her mouth to reply, her eyes snap to her right, as do the rest of ours.

Abel’s curled around the corner of the entryway, and I’ve never seen him look so small. Eyes blown wide, thick, pink lips twisted with his confusion. “Lucy?” Fuck, even his voice is small.

I don’t like this.

This is wrong.

“Abel—” I choke out, but that fucking bitch cuts me off.

“Abel, my baby, it’s so good to see you.” She tries to step over the threshold, arms extended toward my fucking pup. I lunge forward, and with a death grip on the door, I slam it shut, right in their faces.

Both Ma and I are unconcerned of who stands on the other side as we face Abel. He’s a sickly shade of gray, eyes wide and glassy as he stares blankly at the wall. He blinks, and two single tear drops slide down the apples of his cheeks.

I reach forward to swipe them away, words caught in my throat.

This isn’t right.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

Abel jerks back just before our skin touches. I hiss, aching for the graze of his atoms against mine. He sucks in a breath, wide eyes darting around but not seeming to notice a thing as he backs up into another wall.

His entire body is wracked with tremors so deep and strong, his teeth chatter uncontrollably.

“Abel…” I rasp because I can’t choke out more than that. “Abel, come here.”

“It’ll be okay, honey. We’ll figure this out.” Mom tries to ease his pain, too. I can feel it, but if anything, her calming words are really what sets him off.

His eyes finally focus as his head jerks up. “It’ll be okay?” he says, voice several octaves higher. Mom and I glance at each other. We share the same worry.

Abel’s about to break.

I never thought I’d see the day my bratty, unbreakable runt would finally take a hit. But it’s here, and I…

I really fucking hate it.

“It will be,” I try, taking another step. His eyes are wide—deer in the headlights.

Please don’t run.

What is happening?

“You have no fucking idea who she is or what’s about to happen.” His head falls back as a loud, chilling cackle bounces off the ceiling and slithers down my spine. I reach for him, barely skimming the sleeve of his hoodie before he jerks away.

“I should’ve stepped on a crack. I should’ve–why didn’t I?” he mutters to the floor, head shaking back and forth so fast, I’m dizzy. All I can do is stare at him, washed in dread and confusion.

“Abel, what are you talking about?”

His teeth clack together. “Fuck, I’m gonna be sick.” And then, he’s rushing down the hall, bathroom door slamming shut behind him so hard, the pictures rattle on the walls.

I stare at the empty space he left behind, unsure what to do or how to feel with this gurgling inferno inside of me. It’s slithering through my viscera, shedding me apart one piece at a time.

I wasn’t worthy.

Never could be.

A knock sounds at the door—softer than the first one but no less jarring.

I know who it is. What she wants.

What she’s going to do to me. To him.

To us.

And it makes me scream.

Abel and Peris will return, messier than ever, in Make Me Scream: Visceral Volume Two.

Coming Soon.