Inflict: A Novel

Chapter Three

It wasn't long after Evelyn's nanny had brought soup and bread to them for lunch, that Connor realized the time, and that he had to leave. The nanny—an older woman who was nothing like the maids his father had—rarely said a word to Connor when she was around, but he was thankful she had reminded him of the time.

He'd been gone too long.

Evelyn's father had said his visit would be a short one, but he must have not minded him being there after all.

Connor didn't really want to go, but it was better he did before his father came looking for him.

That didn't stop him from taking the walk home a bit slower than he normally would. Even with his winter clothes on, the chill still seeped through the heavy fabrics, making him shiver. His boots crunched on the snow with every step he took. The cold weather made him think of the last two kittens denning under the old shed with their mother. He was happy that Kitty had a good, warm home with Evelyn, but he worried about the others.

Connor settled himself on checking the cats before he went home, despite knowing he should go right inside.

As he rounded the final turn on the path that would lead him to the spot where he could come out of the woods behind the shed and not be seen from the house, Connor knew something was ... off. The denseness of the woods was lessened after the leaves had fallen, leaving the tree line more open than it was during the rest of the year. He could see from his position on the turn that the trail he had made from the back of the house to the shed, and then to the woods, was more beaten down than it was that morning when he'd left.

His father rarely came outside when he wanted Connor out of the house—Sean never buggered about in the shed, if he did come outside. Yet, the closer Connor came, the more obvious it was to him that the large footprints in the snow overtop his likely belonged to his father.

Connor suddenly felt much colder than he had just minutes ago, and he didn't think it was because of the weather, either.

His hands balled into fists as he pushed his way out of the bushes at the tree line, his fingernails cutting into his skin as his fear increased. Sure enough, his father's footprints had gone all the way back to the hole behind the shed, and then back toward the house.

He'd found the cats.

Connor's teeth hurt, his jaw was clenching so hard. His gaze darted past the shed to the house, and he found himself blinking rapidly to hold back the swell of tears coming on.

He knew exactly what it meant that his father had found the cats. His stomach twisted, his throat tightening as the taste of the chicken soup he'd eaten at Evelyn's rose into his mouth.

He felt stupid.

A stupid lad.

He should have known better than to leave something like a trail of his footprints, for his father to follow, that would lead the man straight to Connor's cats. He'd known full and well how much Sean despised animals, had known perfectly well what he did to neighborhood strays and the pets of their neighbors if he thought he could get away with it.

And Sean always got away with it.

A hot rush of something Connor didn't understand filled him, from the soles of his boots to the top of his sweaty head. It made his fists clench even tighter, until he felt the skin of his palms break from his fingernails digging through the flesh, and his jaw crack with pain as a puff of white air blew from his nose in a clipped exhale.

He was mad, too.

So feckin' mad.

Connor was angry at himself for making such a foolish mistake. He was angry at his father for ... being the way he was, something Connor knew all too well, tried to avoid, and usually ended up failing at in the end. This was going to be no different, apparently.