Psycho Inside Me by Bonnie R. Paulson Read Free Book Online Page A

made them dangerous as crap.
    “Where did Kari go?” I cradled the drink in my left hand , clenching and unclenching the other under the cover of my knee.
    Sheldon rounded the couch and sat on the arm, inches from my shoulder. He swung his leg, brushing my lower thigh with his ankle. I fought against recoiling. He needed to be comfortable, complacent, and think I would be the perfect victim. “I’m not sure. She promised it wouldn’t take long.” Fingering his mullet cut hair, he pointed at the DVD clock. “It’s kind of late for a twelve-year-old to be out, isn’t it? Aren’t your parents worried about where you are?”
    I pretended to adjust my sweatshirt. Actually, I maneuvered the knife into an easier position to grab. My laugh sounded forced to my ears, but he bought it with a grin. Motioning with my drink at myself, I reminded him. “I’m almost thirteen and my mom and dad aren’t together. Mom’s at work. She’s never home on the weekends. I usually visit Kari on Friday nights.” I’d have to do some serious praying for all the lying I was doing. Dad would pee his pants, if he knew about my sins. Even with my new fashion, he still thought of me as his good little girl.
    Good little girls get raped.
    “Oh, of course. I’m sorry. Almost thirteen. Drink up, Cathy. I don’t want you to get dehydrated.” He mispronounced the last word, making it sound like dehydranted. But my nerves returned, drying my throat and blocking the laugh I should have pushed out.
    The good little girl inside me wanted to go home. But the side that wanted justice for Kari’s pain and safety for the young boys refused to budge. I’m doing this. I can do this .
    I just didn’t know what to say or how to start. Did I accuse him outright? Or did I question him? At the point I had reached, I worried I’d be testifying myself, if I lived. Lifting the cup, I sniffed while allowing the liquid to reach my lips. I didn’t open my mouth or drink any of the pop, but I pretended to which made him drop his shoulders in relief.
    No idea what he’d tried drugging me with left me questioning how to act. Should I start to feel loopy? Sleepy? Amnesiac? Unsure, I went with sleepy. Easiest to pretend and fastest to move out of. If I pretended to be loopy, I could lose my balance and it increased the odds he’d over-power me or – whatever. I wasn’t going with loopy.
    If I couldn’t make myself ask him what he’d done and tell him to stop, then maybe I could make him show me and then threaten him to stop. My options had funneled down to a limited one on getting the hell out of there alive and virginity intact and it involved playing along for a little bit more – until Deegan had a reason to come in and rescue me.
    Of the other two drug-effect options, I wasn’t quite sure what amnesiac meant. I’d just heard my parents talking about those kinds of drugs when Dad had to go in for his colonoscopy. Maybe they kept a person from remembering? I’m not sure.
    Angled to separate the entryway and the living room, the couch could either help or hinder me depending on my position. I s tood from the chair I’d claimed, sloshing my drink to the side, hitting the only living plant in the house. Oops, crap.
    Sheldon jumped from his perch , arms splayed. “Hey, where you going?”
    Adding a droop to my eyelids, I altered my speech. “Just to the couch. Sorry, I’m really tired all of a sudden.” Huffing into the couch corner on the opposite end of the cushions, I curled my legs up and rested my head on the free armrest. I’m not ashamed to admit I even added a fake yawn to my act.
    “Oh, you poor thing. I’ll get you a blanket.” His words hardened, taking on an edge he’d hidden to that point. My eyelids fluttered in alarm, but I held them closed, determined to not let my fear rule my actions.
    That’s how I got into this mess in the first place. Fear of Bobby had made me kill him. Fear of what he might do. Fear of what might happen. I