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Again and again, as words that’ve sat dormant, laid buried deep inside my soul, spill free. Every memory, every slap, every lash, every hurt and threat. I scream and rage as I force his body to repent when his lips refuse to.
“I hate you!” I bellow, my voice raw from the depth of my words. “I fucking hate you, you sick motherfucker! I hope you rot in Hell.”
I keep going, keep hitting, keep shouting and I don’t stop, can’t stop, never stop…
“You’re an embarrassment!”
Crack.
“No punishment seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”
Eve’s bleeding, broken body.
“Again!”
“Leave, or I’ll tell them you raped her. Leave or I’ll make you wish you were never born.”
Crack.
“Again!”
“I love you, Roman.”
“Don’t worry, Ro. I didn’t forget you. I even packed your favorite book.”
Crack.
“No punishment seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”
“No!” Distantly, I think I hear her voice, hear her begging, but I can’t tell if she’s real or not. My knuckles burn, my muscles ache, my throat is raw, but I just can’t stop. “Roman! Please, baby, please. I can’t lose you, too!”
Eve is sobbing and I’m shaking my head, my eyes unfocused as a blurry version of my father appears before me. He’s bloody and broken, just like Eve, just like Jane, just like my mother.
No. He deserves this.
“I know he does, Ro. I know.”
My brows furrow, and I suck in a sharp breath. I didn’t know I said that out loud.
“Come back to me, baby. If you do this, if you kill him, you’re no better than him. Don’t do that to yourself. You deserve better. We deserve better.”
I freeze at her words, my heart slamming against my chest so hard, I think I might actually be dying. Eve releases a broken, wounded sound and grips my cheeks, forcing me to face her. Slowly, so fucking slowly, I come back to myself.
I can feel my father panting beneath me, his breaths ragged and weak. I can hear him wheezing, murmuring demands for help, threats that no longer hold any weight.
Not now.
Not with him so small, so fragile, under my fists.
Not with her here, holding me, tethering me to this life, this moment, this reality.
“You’re alive,” I choke out.
Eve nods slowly, brushing away tears I didn’t realize I was crying. “So are you,” she rasps with a small flinch.
It’s then that I take in the bruises marring her throat, the small cut on her lip, the red spot on her cheek and rage fills me all over.
With a snarl, I move to pull away, to go back to Isaac, my fists already seeking his blood, his death, but Eve cries out in protest and throws herself at me, knocking me off my father. My ass hits the ground and I catch us both with my arm right as Eve collides with my chest.
