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But those fucking fearful, baby blue eyes flashed through my mind, making my thought process halt. I bit back a growl, my hand tightening around the wrench in my hand.
Why thefuckwas she in my head all the goddamn time within mere hours of meeting her?
Why the fuck did I want to mark her skin and destroy that sweet, timid soul of hers, but the mere fucking thought of her being afraid of someone else made me want to fucking murder them?
Shit, maybe I really did need goddamn therapy. I was obviously losing my goddamn mind.
“You good over there?” Ezra suddenly asked.
I snapped my head up to look at him, blinking. I hadn’t realized how lost I’d gotten in my head. He arched a brow at me, and I loosened my grip on the wrench, my fingers aching from how tight my grip had been. “Yeah—fine,” I muttered. I looked away from him, a bit unnerved. I didn’t get lost like that; it was dangerous.
Shewas fucking dangerous.
“Let’s get this shit over with.”
Ezra just shrugged, not buying my shit for a second, but he knew not to push me either. He knew I’d talk when I was ready and not a goddamn second sooner. We were extremely similar, which meant we understood each other.
I glanced at my watch. We had four hours before we needed to be completely done because we still needed to have time to shower and put back on the clothes we’d come in, so we could all be back at home for our fucking bullshit ass family dinners.
Fuck, this bullshit made me feel like I wanted to be a psychopath. An insane asylum would make more sense than the fucking town we lived in.
ChapterThree
Lillian
Father wasfuriousfor what happened in the church. He’d kept up a great front for everyone there, but he was excellent at hiding his rage so no one would suspect him of being a horrible father.
I trembled the entire way home, terrified of finally being home, within walls that I knew would forever hold the secrets of his brutality, just like the last house we lived in. My sisters had suffered, but as they got older, they became more obedient and learned how to always please him so Father was always happy with them.
For some reason, Istillcouldn’t get it right. And I tried. I tried so, so hard.
When he pulled into the garage and the doors slid shut, I had to bite down on my tongue to keep my teeth from chattering. I was shaking, unable to contain the fear pulsing through me.
As soon as I stepped out of the car and had the door shut, his hand cracked against my cheek. Blood welled in my mouth when the soft flesh of the inside of my cheek got cut on my teeth. I spun into the side of the car, a cry of pain ripping from my lips, blood trickling down my chin and coloring my lip.
He brought his face in close to mine, his features blurry due to the tears streaking down my cheeks. “Until a man is your husband, you keep your eyes averted, and youdon’tallow your body to respond to him, do I make myself clear?”
I jerkily nodded my head, tears sliding down my cheeks. “I understand, Father,” I croaked, the taste of my blood in my mouth making my stomach churn.
He nodded once and slipped into the house. Mother frowned at me, not a single emotion shining in her eyes except disappointment. But not disappointment in her husband. It was disappointment inme.
How could she allow this to happen to her children? It waswrong.
“Everyone saw the way you reacted to Amadeus touching your hand, Lillian. Unless you want to be a whore and be shunned by the church, I suggest you get your reactions to him under wraps, do I make myself clear? Get in the house and clean your face.”
With that, she stepped into the house as well. Terrified of making either of them any angrier than they already were, I made my way into the house as well, keeping my eyes down on the floor as I made my way to the bathroom to splash water on my face. Then, I began the usual routine I’d had since I was a child to keep bruises from appearing. Most of the time it worked, and hopefully, it would this time, too.
I wasn’t allowed dinner that night. Instead, they ordered me to my room after our nightly Bible reading, and at seven P.M., I heard the lock on my door click from the outside, officially shutting me inside.
Silent tears slid down my cheeks as I stared at my closed bedroom door, locked inside my prison like some trapped princess waiting on her prince charming to rescue her.
Except I wasn’t a princess. This wasn’t a fairy tale. And there was no prince charming to rescue me. There was only a man I would one day be forced to marry, who would only lock me in another prison inside of his home.
* * *
I inhaled deeply, my senses tingling. The scent of rain hung heavy in the air, and the wind was blowing something fierce, twisting my blonde hair all around. Part of me was wishing I’d braided it to keep it from getting tangled and knotted, but the other part of me, the part of me that begged to just be free, even if only a little bit, loved the feel of the wind blowing through my hair, twisting and turning it all around. It would be a mess to untangle later, but I wasn’t worried about that now.
“Surprised you’re allowed to walk around without an escort,” that deep voice quietly spoke from behind me. His voice was slightly raspy, sending tingles throughout my body. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, I spun around to face Amadeus. I’d know that voice anywhere, even if I’d only heard it once before.
