Page 93 of Heimlock

There’s a chance I won’t survive until dawn. This woman is determined to strip me bare in the last twenty-four hours.

“So you’re not comfortable answering them?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

The room’s silence stings my ears. When her breathing evens out, my body relaxes. Rolling onto my back, I stare at her pock-marked ceiling.

Who helps you?

I can count on one hand how many times people have helped me. Some of it’s due to stubbornness. Most of the time, though, it’s because people don’t notice the silent drownings. Those who splash in distress receive the most attention.

But I’ve been silently drowning since I was ten. I’ve perfected the art of not making waves.

***

The scent of dinner grumbles my belly as I work on my homework. The assignment’s due tomorrow, and math has never been my strength. Fynn’s out with his friends, but when he gets home, we plan on playing video games.

But only if I get this assignment done.

“Trinte, can you come here?”

I frown at the sound of Dad’s voice from his bedroom. Looking at the last math problem, I hesitate. One more scribbled answer and I’m home free.

“Trinte?”

Sighing, I place the pencil down on the table. “Yeah, coming.”

Before heading back, I check on the dinner roasting in the oven. The timer says there’s fifteen more minutes left. Video games and dinner — I can’t wait.

“Trinte!” Dad sounds more impatient than usual.

Trotting down the hallway, I call back, “Coming!”

Dad’s standing in the bedroom with his shirt off. He watches me with a look I don’t understand. Anxiety punches me right in the chest. Why do I feel this way?

I stop at the doorway. “You called?”

Dad motions for me to come in. “Close the door.”

My feet won’t move. “Why?”

An unrecognizable darkness crosses his face. He’s always had a bit of a temper, but nothing that matches the hatred twisting his features now.

“I said get in here. Now.”

Not wanting a tail thrashing, I step into the room and close the door. Heart thundering, I focus on my breath, trying to avoid sounding panicked. But what’s going on? Why is he so mad at me? I try to think of everything I’ve done today, but nothing comes to mind.

He points a blood-red finger at me. “You should have never been born.”

I shrink back from the words. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it hurts every single time. There’s nothing I can say to deflect the words, so I stay silent.

Dad begins to undo his belt, increasing the pounding of my pulse. Is he going to beat me with it?

“I loved my wife. And you took her from me.” I cringe as the belt slowly slides out of the loops. “A man has needs, Trinte. Do you understand?”

I shake my head. With a trembling voice, I say, “N-No, I don’t, sir.”