House of Skin Read Online Free

opened his mouth to tell her, for the third time, about the creek running through the grounds, that there was indeed water near the house if not exactly beside it, but he decided not to take the bait. She knew the answer, she was just finding another way to mock the place without even seeing it.
    “You’re awfully quiet,” she said.
    “That’s because there’s no point in arguing,” he said, glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure the SUV hadn’t turned around to exact revenge on him. “We’ve said all there is to say about my leaving.” Which is why , he wanted to add, I haven’t returned your calls the last couple days .
    “Everything except the real reason you’re running away.”
    “Please stop saying that.”  
    “Or what?” she said, and for a moment he could almost see her on the other end, hand poised on cocked hip, mouth open in a defiant sneer. God, he was glad to be rid of her.
    He heard her sigh tremulously, the fight going out of her. When she spoke again, her voice was almost free of spite and derision. “I don’t understand you.”  
    He waited.
    “Don’t you think what you’re doing is a bit weird? Your whole family agrees your uncle was a lunatic.”  
    Keeping his eyes on the road, Paul opened his second bottle of Mountain Dew and took a long swig. Replacing the cap, he asked, “What would you do, refuse the inheritance? Say ‘Hell no, I don’t want money or a free house’?”
    “I didn’t say that. Keep the money—of course you should keep the money. But why not sell the house? You said it was falling apart.”
    “I said it needed work.”
    “How would you know, Paul? You’ve never even been there.”
    “I’ll be there in a few hours.”  
    Her voice went small. “Do you enjoy hurting me?”
    “Emily,” he began, but then fell quiet. What could he say? That any life was better than the life he had? That his relationship with her had become an emotional undertow that only worsened his drinking problem. That the bank—Jesus, how amazing it felt to tell his father he was quitting—was a maelstrom of ringing phones and coughing workers, his apartment building a sarcophagus of noise. That nothing about city life felt good to him. That he wanted to be alone, without another soul in the world, where he could shout at the top of his lungs and not worry about being heard. Where Emily could no longer make him feel like a failure, even if he was.
    “Paul?”
    “I don’t enjoy hurting you,” he said, “but I’ve gotta go now.”  
    Her voice went hard. “You’ll regret it.”  
    “Maybe.”  
    “You’ll be back by year’s end.”  
    Don’t count on it .
    “We’ll see, Emily.”  
    “But I won’t be waiting for you.”  
    Paul held his tongue.
    She hung up on him.
    “That went well,” he said and shut off the cell. He glanced at the mirror again and saw the road behind was clear. The SUV hadn’t followed him.
    With luck, Emily wouldn’t either.
     
     
    Through the heavy stein Julia felt his cheekbone collapse and heard the sound of mashing cartilage. A gout of iced tea splattered over his face, his chest, her shoulder and arm. Even before her hand fell his body crumpled and twisted, his knees buckling. He landed in a sitting position before his head lolled back, his eyes showing white and his tongue resting on his bottom lip like a dog’s. His shoulder blades rushed the floor. The back of his skull bounced on the hard wood.
    She watched him closely. He didn’t move.
    A tide of horror washed over her. My God , she thought. I’m going to get the electric chair .
    He moaned, a faint, pleading sound.
    It startled her. His brow knitted and his hands circled like he was swimming. Then, he was still.
    Julia began to shake in huge, rolling tremors that undulated through her body like waterbed waves, and when she thought she’d lose consciousness, succumb to the nausea and the awful guilt for what she’d just done, she let her knees buckle and