VEDA

One Week Earlier…

He was watching me. He was always watching me.

I tried to ignore his hostile stare as I made him a cup of coffee. Black with a few drops of cream, but not too much, just the way he liked it.

Just the way my sister would’ve made it for him.

I was informed of this fact just a few minutes ago when I’d had the audacity to ask him how he liked his drink. As I poured the freshly brewed coffee with a shaking hand, the side of my face throbbed where the back of his fist had connected, and I knew my cheek was...