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“He was scoping the houses out,” Crow says suddenly which surprises me. He’s been quiet for a while, and his deep baritone belies the beautiful exterior. His face is shadowed, his black hair falling across his forehead which makes him seem younger than I guess he is.
“Yes.” My answer is a whisper of pain and guilt. “He knew how to get in, he knew where the alarms were. Each home I thought was safe, wasn’t. The men he worked for, they had connections,” I tell them. I recall times when I thought my father was asking about my job because he cared. On my sixteenth birthday, it was the night I witnessed the monster.
“Tell me something,” Crow requests, his eyes locked on mine. The silver making every hair on the back of my neck stand on end. There is something so dangerous about him. Not only for my body, but my heart. But when I look at Falcon, I notice it too. Hawk is harder to read, he’s more subdued, but each one of them have me wanting to cradle them. I want to hold them and tell them I’m sorry. “The night… The night my brothers—”
I can’t stop the tears from falling once more. I was there trying to hold onto the two boys, but I couldn’t. My father stabbed me in the back, literally. The wound still clearly visible on my flesh, a silver streak of me fighting back.
“I tried so hard to hold them,” I mumble as the tears fall. “He stabbed me.” I’ve never told anyone this before. My mother knew because she was at the hospital with me, but the family didn’t know because I left the house, called the police and was taken away before they returned.
“What?” Crow looks down at me. He saw me naked, and he didn’t notice it. I stood before him, but he didn’t know I was hiding something. “Where?”
I struggle to stand and pull off the T-shirt I’m wearing. “Along my spine,” I explain as they all three move swiftly. The silence is heavy with emotion. I didn’t think either of these men would ever feel anything, but this isn’t something they were expecting.
There are times I look in the mirror and wish I was someone else. I pray at night I wake up without a reminder of my reality, but it’s always there. I can never escape who I am. I’m the monster’s daughter.
Fingertips trace the scar, and I can’t help but shiver at the touch. It’s gentle, calm. When Hawk rounds me and stops inches from my front, he suddenly grasps my face and pulls me into him. His lips find mine, and he bites my lips, both top and bottom until I’m whimpering in pained need.
Someone is on my left, another on my right, but I can’t see because my focus is on the man in front of me. His body is hard, warm, and his tongue invades me like I’m pretty sure his cock would—painfully domineering.
I open for him though because I crave it. When Hawk finally breaks away from me, his gaze is scorching as he regards me. “I want more. I want to know what you were doing in my house that night. How he brought you there.”
I nod, but he holds my head steady.
“We all need to know what happened.”
“I know,” I tell him. “I can’t claim to be a victim like all of you, and your families, but I never once stood by what he did.” I need them to believe me because I need to escape them. The thought comes unbidden to me, and I realize in all the time I’ve been sitting here, the last thing on my mind was getting free.
“You’ll stay in here until we’re ready for you,” Crow announces before he practically drags Hawk from the room. Falcon follows, but before he closes the door to my prison, he winks at me and shuts me inside.
It’s only when I’m alone, do I realize I’m no longer bound to the chair. I know no amount of screaming will make them return and let me go. I tried crying out, and shouting for help, but being down here muffles any sounds. So I sit back and allow my tears to fall.
Of all the things my father did to me, this is by far the worst. He didn’t touch me, but it’s still his doing.
There were many nights I cried myself to sleep. I didn’t tell them the shocker. I doubt they would care. All they need is to know why my father did what he did. I understand the need for answers. I can no longer blame them. I never thought I would be able to agree with what they’re doing, what they’ve done, but I do.
I settle back and think about all the times I wondered why I had to be his daughter. Most girls have good dads. They have parents who love and nurture them, not turn them into broken toys to be used and abused at their will.
