“You lying piece of trash,” I whispered, stepping out of the bed. My legs were shaky, not from the drug—since it was currently sitting in a crumpled napkin on the floor—but from the sheer, unfiltered adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“Natalie, just stop!” Richard snapped, turning to me, tears welling in his eyes. “You texted him? After everything? After I gave you everything?”
“Did you give me everything, Richard?” I asked, my voice deadly calm, contrasting sharply with the chaotic circus around me. “Because from where I’m standing, you gave your mother the key to our bedroom, the license to torment me, and total immunity for every lie she’s told you for the last three years.”
“Don’t you talk to my son like that!” Evelyn shrieked, standing up and hiding behind Richard’s broad shoulders. “She’s crazy, Richard. Look at her eyes! She’s probably on something! She’s trying to turn you against your own blood!”
“I am on something, Evelyn,” I said, a cold smile touching my lips. I walked over to the vanity table and picked up the damp, heavy cloth napkin. I unrolled it carefully. Inside lay a thick, pasty lump of half-dissolved chicken noodle soup and a chalky, white residue that hadn’t fully melted. “I’m on a heavy dose of whatever sedative you crushed into my soup. Only, I didn’t swallow it. I faked it. It’s all right here. And luckily for us, the state forensics lab will have no trouble identifying exactly what prescription bottle this came from.”
