Page 80

I split my body from my mind as Father Malcolm presses the cloth between my legs and over my scars. I gave up trying to fight him, deciding cooperation would make it end faster. Through suppressing my hunger, I’ve become skilled at separating my mind from my body. Detached, like an observer watching through someone else’s eyes.

He stands, his robes flowing as he circles the bed again. He gently places a hand on my chest, fingers cupping just above my breast, and my heart races. I’m consumed by wicked thoughts about him, fighting the urge to throw up again.

In my mind, I’ve already clawed, kicked, and screamed; I’ve bitten him until he bled.

In my mind, he’s already dead.

Father Malcolm peers down at me, and my lips twitch into a smile. A flicker of something flashes through his eyes.

Fear perhaps?

I sense it now—the hatred inside me. It coils through my veins, slithering its way into my mind. It’s so…familiar, almost intoxicating.

Perhaps they were right about me all along; perhaps the devil lingers within me. None of the thoughts I have right now are holy. None of them seem like mine.

“Have you gotten rid of it?” I ask as our eyes meet, but I don’t recognize my scratchy, hoarse voice.

He flinches at the unexpected sound of my voice. “No.” His voice is a deep whisper. “The serpent still lives inside you.”

He pauses for a moment, then he removes his robe, and I remain motionless, obedient, as my upbringing dictated.

He slips off his pants and hovers over me, nudging my legs open as I keep them limp. My muscles are working again—the tea’s wearing off—but Father Malcolm doesn’t need to know that yet.

He’s fully erect as he sheds the rest of his garments and crawls on top of me. His unholy desire presses into the tender spot between my legs.

Dirty. Filthy. Man.

I lay there helpless, like the victim I am, the little lamb. It was only a matter of time before I was defiled. Everyone seems to try.

Father Malcolm licks my neck and fondles my breast. “You’re beyond salvation,” he growls, taking his time pressing the tip of his cock near my tight entrance. “And now you’re mine.”

I lay still but not entirely helpless, thinking of Mama in the next room, letting this happen. I grind my teeth as he moves his mouth from my neck to my nipple, his erection growing with each tug of his teeth.

I squeeze my eyes shut as he grabs me, trying to shut him out as he grunts and pulls on his cock, stroking himself over top of me.

“You’re going to hell for this,” I whisper.

He pins me with his eyes and grins. “The devil found me a long time ago, little girl.”

Pulling me up, he grabs my hips and nudges my legs open with his knee. I don’t fight it as he presses himself into my entrance, grunting at how tight I am.

My heart hammers as I reach below my bed for the knife. He plays with himself, stroking his cock up and down my slit, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as if he’s about to experience rapture.

There’s still time. My soul isn’t damned yet.

He leans over me. “I want to take my time with you.” His breath is so close it tickles me, bringing me a sense of warped security.

The gift of time.

My hand contacts the hilt of the knife, and I curl my fingers around it while shifting my body into him, arching my back and spreading my legs, inviting him in closer.

His eyes burn with desire as my body sears into him. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he whispers.

He thrusts, and I slide the blade inside his stomach and twist…just like Remy told me to. His eyes grow wide, his mouth gapes open, and he chokes on his own blood as it surges up his throat.

He grabs my neck and squeezes, trapping the air from my lungs to stop me.

I pull the knife out and stick it in again, twisting with everything I have until finally, his body goes limp and life seeps from his eyes, leaving nothing but stark emptiness.