Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

“Don’t walk away from me!” someone suddenly shouted
down the hall.
I popped my head up, realizing someone else was in the
house.
What?
My mom. She was home.
“Fuck,” the boy whispered.
I opened my mouth to shout, but he clamped his hand
down over my mouth, hauled me up again, and I heard doors
behind us swing open and realized he was hiding us in the
walk-in closet.
I kicked and screamed, but the doors swung closed again,
and his hand muffled my cry.
I heard the bedroom doors on the other side slam shut and
a switch next to me click. He must’ve cut the light in the closet
as he hid us behind the wall.
“No, no, no,” I heard my father argue. “Since you had to
drag us back home tonight, I’m just trying to make sure we’re
behind closed doors so the girls don’t have to witness your
drunk-mother-tantrum.”
The guy holding me turned me around to face him, his arm
circling my body and holding me to him tightly as his other
hand stayed pressed over my mouth.
“Mom!” I called out, but his hand was so hard over my
words, it barely carried. I breathed hard through my nose.
“Oh, yes, by alllllll means,” I heard my mother shout back.
“Let’s take them to the next company function where your
latest twenty-year-old slut can suck the sweat out of you in the
men’s room with all of our friends outside!”
My ears perked, and for a moment I stopped fighting him.
“Is this one pregnant, too?” she went on. “Paying for
another abortion and to keep her mouth shut about it is really
going to nail home those good Catholic values we’ve tried to
instill in the children. You’re such a piece of shit.”