THE DRAWING OF EVENING bought the promise of darkness and another visitor. Although I didn’t turn, the swishing of the door over carpet with him on the inside offered suspicion of trouble. Matthew’s stares terrified me the most—and I was alone with him.
The mattress depressed beside me. He leaned back to look at me. I stared ahead. His lips moved. I blocked his voice. Whatever he had to say, it couldn’t be good.
A tug of my arm to haul me closer got my attention. The growl that left me did so of its own accord. Eyes darkening, he tugged me again. I looked down at his fingers wrapped around my upper arm. As my gaze lifted to his, my lips pulled back.
His hand released me and rose for the swing. I threw my body back. When I hit the edge of the bed, my feet flew over my head, and I came to
