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Our father must be so proud watching over from whatever fucked up place he is now.
“You know, your mother didn’t believe me when I told her I had found you. And how you were eating right out of the devil’s palm.”
His hand grazes my cheek, then my chin, and I feel sick.
“Don’t you fucking touch me, you pathological piece of shit,” I hastily whisper, pulling my face out of his grasp.
He hums as if I’ve somehow proved his point, looking down at me.
“How rewarding it will be to break you, Penelope,” he says before turning on his heels.
I watch the door close behind him, the slide of the deadbolt like thunder compared to the quietness of this godforsaken room.
I’m suddenly so cold as if Frederick took all the heat with him when he walked out of the room. My bottom lip quivers and I bite it hard enough to stop it, unwilling to acknowledge how much he’s left me shaken.
His last words still echo in my ears and fear coats my insides like tar. His threat could mean anything. I sit, unmoving for what feels like hours, my mind coming up with all the possible punishments he believes I deserve.
Eventually, my tired body cries out for sleep and I lay down, crawling under the covers that are anything but comforting. I fall into a restless sleep. This time the image of Connor never comes, as if deep down even my subconscious doesn’t believe I deserve to be saved.
Chapter 42
Imusthavesleptlonger than I thought. I’m still groggy when the door opens and a voice I don’t recognize barks at me, “Come.”
I stand up and shuffle to the door to meet the man who’s waiting for me. I should feel relieved to be allowed out of this room, but I’d be a fool to think that anything good is waiting for me outside of these doors.
“Where?” I still find myself asking, although I know he won’t be answering my question.
Ignoring me, he leads me out of the secluded house, the sun hitting me with such force, I wince. Craning my neck, I glance around, slowly taking in how different the commune looks now. Bigger for one. Like a self-sustaining village hidden away, surrounded by forest.
He leads me down a winding dirt road, and I suddenly realize we haven’t passed another soul since we walked out of that horrid place. Foreboding tightens around my throat.
I follow him up to what looks like a theater, newly built by the look of it, and I stutter to a stop. But the man takes my wrist, opens the doors and pushes me inside. I stumble over the hem of my dress, trying to regain my balance.
When I look up, I freeze. The entire community seems to have gathered here to watch my downfall. As they stare, wrath and disgust fill the room with its stink.
I feel myself wilt.
None of this should matter.
None of it.
I should be able to stomach their judgment and let it wash over me. But today, I can’t find the strength.
The man pushes me between the shoulder blades, forcing me to move along. I heed to his silent order, shuffling all the way up to the stage where my brother waits for me in triumph. The theater’s painfully silent and I feel my mind slowly shutting down.
I walk up the short steps leading to him and with it, my dignity fades. Especially when I look into Fredrerick’s face, his smile more evil than all the darkness I’ve ever witnessed, even in myself.
The crowd is so quiet, I can hardly stand it. The uncertainty of what’s about to come gnaws at my ability to fight for myself. I’m battling against old ghosts. Of a girl who obeyed and never dared to speak out of turn. I can no longer tell who I am when I finally look my brother in the eyes.
He points to a chair in front of him on stage.
The thought of sitting down and facing the weight of my old community has me clutching at the last bit of resistance I have left.
“No,” I say through cracked lips.
I try to turn around, but my arms are pulled backwards and I thrash against whoever is holding me, but I’m too weak. A second pair of hands join the first and the more I fight, the more I feel their grasp tighten, binding my wrists with a rope around my back.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
