AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When my shins connect with the edge of the couch, I hesitate.
“C’mon, Paul,” Block prods. “I don’t have all day.”
I cringe at the clank of his belt buckle, and my muscles tense as the leather whips through the five belt loops on his dress pants. When the teeth of his zipper scrape open, I have to force myself not to react. Reactions only make this whole process worse.
Knowing what’s expected of me, I go through the motions of undoing my pants and pushing them and my underwear to my ankles.
“Bend over,” he commands.
Silent tears stream down my cheeks as my palms rest on the scratchy cushions in front of me. They fall from my chin and soak into the material, never to be seen again.
Five minutes later, Deacon Block is securing his belt, but I don’t move. I know how this works. My nightmare isn’t over.
When he leaves the room, a different set of footsteps replace his, and the snick of the lock engaging jangles my nerves. I honestly thought that I’d get used to this, that I’d be able to blank out every incident like it isn’t happening, but I haven’t figured out how to do that yet.
Maybe someday.
“Paul, my son.”
A shiver of fear skates over my spine at Father Brine’s greeting. I hate Deacon Block, but he doesn’t hold a candle to the sadism the priest enjoys.
“Hello, Father,” I say, slipping into the role he wants me to play.
“Have you been a good son today?”
I shake my head as I squeeze my eyes closed.
“Use your words, my son,” he orders as his clerical robe hits the floor.
I suck in a breath and hate the way it clogs my throat. “No… No, I ha—”
The crack of leather against flesh seems to echo in the room, and pain slices through me.
“Quit mumbling,” he harshly whispers, barely containing his anger.
Just once, I wish he’d lose his cool completely and yell. Maybe then someone would save me.
Again, I inhale, trying to steady my voice so as not to piss him off more.
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”
Small hands clutch my face, and my subconscious registers the touch as… good.
“Malice? C’mon, Malice, wake up.”
I jolt from my nightmare, and the hands disappear. Swiveling my head from side to side, I try to make sense of my surroundings. It takes all of two seconds to realize I’m in my bed at the clubhouse and not at that fucking church. But it takes several moments longer to identify the woman with wide eyes who’s kneeling on the mattress next to me.
“Apple?”
She nods. “You were having a nightmare.”
Taking stock of things, I realize my clothes are damp with sweat, and my heart is pounding. I press my fist to my chest to dull the pain that always comes with my nightmares. Pain I never wanted anyone else to see.
You can’t see the invisible.
“Are you okay?” Apple asks as she slides her legs out from under her and leans against the headboard.
I shudder out a breath. “Takes more than a fucking nightmare to—”
