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I have no concept of time until the engine stops and the trunk is opened. I’m sure it must be morning by now, so when the dark sky greets me I don’t expect it. The brief reprieve of being locked in the trunk is over, but I have no idea what to expect. I’ve never seen him this angry before. I need to get away.
He grips my arms, yanking me out of the trunk before pulling me up the path.
I drag my feet, not wanting to walk into the house of hell, but he has none of it. He picks me up after opening the door and practically throws me inside. My face smacks off the doorframe and I feel blood trailing down my cheek from my eye, but it doesn’t matter because at least now I can feel something. Something is better than nothing where he’s concerned.
He slams the door behind him, the sound of it reverberating through the whole house. “Get yourself cleaned up. I’m bringing you to Thursday mass.”
I push my shoulders back but the force causes my biceps to burn from where my wrists are tied together behind my back. “No.”
“What?” His brow rises, his nostrils flaring. “What did you just say?”
“I said.” I swallow but urge the courage to come forth. “No.”
He laughs loud, but it’s sinister. I forgot what he sounds like when he does that and it does nothing but make goose bumps spread over my skin. My body knows I’m in danger, even if my brain hasn’t quite caught up yet.
He’s calm as he steps toward me, all his movements slow and measured, his blue eyes lighting with fire that he keeps under control. “You must think you have a choice here.” He smiles, and for a second I see the man he used to be. The loving father who would carry me on his shoulders before taking me to the park to play on the slide. But that disappears when his hand whips out and grabs me around the throat.
My muscles contract on instinct to stop him but my arms won’t move, no matter how many times I pull. The burn of the thick rope tells me I won’t be able to get out of the hold he has on me.
“You never have a choice,” he spits out before pushing me forward and onto the sofa, his grip not lessening up any. “I’m your master and you will do as I say!”
I try to shake my head in answer because words aren’t able to get past my windpipe I’m sure he’s crushing.
“I should teach you a lesson for running away from me.” He leans down and I cringe when I feel his erection against my thigh. I can’t stop the sick bubbling up at the feel of it. He’s getting off on this and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. “How long had you planned it for, huh?” His face comes closer before he crushes his lips against mine. I shiver at the feel of his stubble against my chin and open my mouth. I won’t give up without a fight this time. I won’t let him destroy what’s left of me. Biting down as hard as I can, I relish in the taste of blood when it hits my tongue.
He yanks himself away from me, and when his hand touches his face, I grin wide because I know he didn’t expect me to fight back. Does he not realize I’m not the same girl he took everything from? I’ll never let him take from me the way he has. It’s time to fight harder than I ever have before.
I laugh at the sight of his shocked face, and the brashness causes his gaze to focus on me.
“You think I’m that weak little girl?” I croak out. “You think I’m gonna sit here and let you do and take whatever you want?” Blood drips down my chin and I’m not sure if it’s his, mine, or a combination of both. “You can’t control me anymore. You took away my innocence, there’s nothing left for you to take.”
His stance widens as calm emanates from him. His hand drops to his side before he takes a step forward. “Want to bet on that, little girl?”
I don’t see his fist. I only feel it on my temple seconds before everything turns blurry and then black.
LILY
I thought there was nothing worse than being hit—slapped, punched, whipped—by him, but I was wrong. It’s been three days and three nights since he brought me back to my childhood home, and I only know that because of the small gap in the window he’s covered up.
I don’t know how you could live in a house your whole life and not know every square inch of it. The sight of the contraptions on the wall in this part of the basement tell me this is where he hurt my mom. That along with the scratches on the wall, the dried blood, and tools all lined up perfectly… it sickens me.
I’m not sure if it’s a scare tactic, but if it is, it’s working. My stomach churns when I think about the things he could have done down here, but nothing comes up. I haven’t eaten since he threw me down here—not that I’d have been able to anyway.
The smell permeating in this room tells me all I need to know. I don’t need to see it with my own two eyes. I know better than anyone how evil he is.
I can m
ove my legs—not far because they’re chained to the wall, but enough to not have them cramping. My wrists are still tied behind my back and after so many hours, my shoulders are now numb.
Not once has he come to check if I’m still here, so when I hear murmuring voices, I try to concentrate on them as much as I can as they come closer—the first voices I’ve heard since being thrown in this basement. He hasn’t touched me since locking the door behind him, and I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not.
A door opens and I lean forward to hear who it is.
“She’s down here.” Dad.
“Think she’ll do as she’s told now?” Jonah. Wait… Jonah?! My mouth opens as I ready myself to beg him for help as the stairs creak from their weight. They walk down to me, but when he says, “I’ll make sure to keep her in line, just like you have,” I stop myself from saying a word.
What the hell is going on? Why would Jonah be here? My eyes widen when I realize what’s going on. Everything plays on repeat in my head. All the times I was corrected after Jonah didn’t get his way at school. Was he instigating it? Or have they been in on it together all along?
