“There’s more to it,” I Say, hating that she’s trying to be sneaky. Sure, I know that there’s more to it. I know that it’s not so simple, so sweet and unassuming as she’s trying to pretend it is. People don’t do things without ulterior motives.

She had a reason for everything she did. Otherwise she wouldn’t have done it. It’s as simple as that. So if she’s not giving me the reason, she’s not giving me what I need.

And while I’m patient, I’m ready to move this along a bit more. I’ll push and see if she cracks. Upping the fear she feels is a risky move; she might shut down. But if she breaks, I’ll get what I need, I’m sure of it.

“I swear I don’t know what you want,” she whimpers, so softly I have to strain to hear her.

I’m not accepting such a weak response. She needs to know that. “That’s not good enough,” I say, backing off a step to give her some air. I’ll get back in her face next time she tries to feed me a line of bullshit like I’m some stupid asshole who’s never actually dealt with people before.

She snaps. A little bit. Not all the way. Not in a helpful way. It’s a loss and a win, I guess. “I don’t know what you want me to say!” she says, her anger apparent in her voice as she speaks, but she’s careful to be quiet as I warned her to be.

I don’t need the cops knocking on the door. It took a lot to make sure she was under my thumb. I’ve got enough dirt on her I doubt she’d ever try to cross me. And further than that, if she fucks with me, I can make sure she really never sees Olivia again. I’ll do anything to protect my niece.

Anything.

And if that means being a monster, I’ll do it. And gladly.

“Were you going to try to take Olivia again?” I ask, my voice a growl deep in my throat. I’m in her face again, my arms flexed as I grip the chair so hard I’m seconds from splintering it into toothpicks. I need to know what she’s planning, damn it.

I need a good night’s sleep knowing I’m not going to be woken up to a phone call that Olivia is gone. I don’t want to agonize with my family until we get the call that she didn’t survive it this time.

Because she almost didn’t survive it last time.

“You almost killed her,” I remind Cami with my darkest tone. “You wrecked the fucking car because you were blitzed out of your fucking mind. You almost killed her.”

She’s crying now and I’m so fired up I feel rage surging in my blood. I remember Olivia in the hospital. I remember the pain, the broken expressions. I remember how shattered everyone was. The thought of losing her was nearly enough to kill my mother. It wrecked Kieran.

And Cami? She got off with a slap on the wrist and a court order to join some recovery programs.

For almost killing a child.

If that isn’t a punishment that doesn’t fit the crime, I don’t know what is.

“I know,” She whimpers. “I live with that every day. That’s why I’m trying to tell you, I just wanted to see her.” She looks up at me, her face wet with tears. “She dies in my dreams. She dies,” She says, her shattered voice failing her part of the way through.

I’m the last person in the world who might pity her. “Good,” I snarl, “let her go, then. She’s dead to you. Walk away.”

“I can’t,” Cami says, her head hanging like a rose from a broken stem.

“You can,” I tell her, keeping my voice strong. I’m still angry. I want to know why. I need answers. “And you can tell me why.” The wooden back of the char fractures under the force of my hands and she jolts, terror written into her face.

She should be scared.

“I don’t know!” She cries out.

“Bullshit,” I say, tired of her games. “Were you going to try to take her again?” That’s the thing I need to know. I need her to tell me. I need to hear her say it so I can figure out if she’s lying. But I need her to deny it or agree. One or the other, so I can see her eyes, see if she’s lying.

But she’s looking away, down at her lap, at her hands, at her clean nails. And I take stock for a second. I’m attempting to put logic to the actions of a drug-addled mind. Maybe I have my answer. But still, I want to hear her say it. And her refusal to cooperate is making me mad.

Her silence hangs between us like a cloud. I drop the chunk of wood that broke free to the ground with a satisfying thud. Her wince is also more satisfying than I’d like to admit. I don’t get off torturing people. But then again, I’m not sure Cami is actually a person.

No, she’s a monster that very much manages to be worse than I am even at my very worst. I’d never hurt a helpless child.

“Are you going to try to take her?” I ask, my patience wearing thin. It’s starting to feel like she’s jerking me around. Why else wouldn’t she answer me such a simple question? She shouldn’t have to even think about it.

No, I’m not.

Not a hard phrase.

But yes I am would be very hard to admit. Even I wouldn’t want to be in her place saying those words to my face.

I decide to up her fear another notch. With a show of anger I don’t actually feel, I kick the plastic trash bin across the room. Cami yelps and flinches away from me.

The can strikes the wall and I hear a very audible, “Ouch.” On the other side of it.

Someone is listening.

Fuck.