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I go back inside and sink on the edge of the bed, lost in my thoughts. The house has turned quiet when Marie tiptoes into my room. I know it’s bad when her eyes turn glassy.
She helps me out of the dress and waits for me while I shower. Back in my room, I find my father and another man waiting for me.
Alarm blares between my rib cage, and my father says, “Let the doctor do what he’s here for.” A silent warning threads through his words.
I am about to open my mouth when Marie says, “Please, just do what he says.”
It’s sheer fear coloring her voice. She has her hands clasped together over her heart, nodding at me to assure me that I am not alone.
The middle-aged man approaches me, his brown eyes etched in cold professionalism behind his thick glasses. “This will be just a prick. You won’t feel a thing.”
“What is that?” My voice pitches, ringing of apprehension.
“A contraceptive shot.”
I stumble forward, dropping on the bed as if my limbs can’t support me. By the time I come out of my trance, the needle is already in my arm.
The implications of my father putting me on the shot debilitates me. I can’t even look at him. My own father, violating me like this. When they leave, a stuttered breath heaves through my lips.
“I am so sorry, child.”
In the bed, I have my head on her lap as she holds me and caresses my hair.
“Your mother must be turning in her grave.”
I close my eyes, falling asleep with a crushing sadness.
***
I get ready for breakfast and stop short in the doorway when I find my father waiting for me in the dining room. Last night’s events are a fresh stamp on my retinas.
“Aurora, come inside.”
His happy tone raises my level of caution even further, and I sit at the table farthest from him.
“Next to me.”
I get up with balled hands. After he finishes his poached egg, he dabs at his mouth with a napkin, turning his attention to me. I recognize the look so well. It’s the one he has after a successful business outcome.
“I knew you would be good for something, after all,” he says, patting my hand. It would be a caring gesture if it wasn’t for his words, sharp as a blade.
“Why do you hate me, Father?”
He waves me off. “I don’t hate you, but I already loved one whore, and you are her spitting image.”
My head drops, but fury has me shooting up and slamming my palm on the table.
“My mother was not a whore.”
He backhands me, and my head jerks to the side.
“Don’t you ever yell at me again. Go to your room.”
Gladly, I push myself up, but his words freeze me to the spot. “I will get rid of you soon. He will teach you better manners than the nun. So many years wasted... All you need is a firm hand.”
I cup my cheek and stare at him with disdain and a broken heart. He has to be talking about one of the men from yesterday. All of them are likely the same age as my father. I’ll leave before I ever allow that.
I storm away, trying to breathe through the onslaught of emotions.
