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The pain is nothing, though.
I’m numb.
Eaton is dead.
I’ll be joining him soon.
But first, I need to save the baby I’m carrying.
My name is signed with an ‘x’.
“She probably can’t write anyway.” Eaton’s father drops the pen he’s just used to sign for me.
Part of me sparks into life when the priest announces we’re husband and wife. I struggle, trying to get away, but I’m held firm.
Mr. Armstrong appears in front of me.
“I’m going to enjoy fucking you, ripping apart your tight little pussy. You better get pregnant quickly, otherwise I’m going to have to spend every day with my dick buried deep inside you until you do.”
“That’s if you can still get it up,” I spit into his face.
I’m done being polite and scared of this man. He may take my body, but he won’t own my mind. He wants to dominate me and frighten me into submission, but I won’t let that happen. I owe that much to Eaton.
I’m pulled flush against Mr.Armstrong’s body. His erection juts into my thigh.
“Oh, I can still get it up,Shelby. Don’t worry about that.” My top is ripped open, exposing my bra to him. “Such pretty breasts, perfectly curved.” He gropes one over my bra. “But this is what I really want.” He cups my sex over the shorts I’m wearing.
“Strip her,” Mr. Armstrong orders his men as he starts to undress himself. “I want lots of witnesses to the consummation of our marriage.”
“You can’t do this in here, Mr. Armstrong. It’s a house of God,” the priest protests, but it falls on deaf ears.
“And as a man of God, you can’t lie about what you’re going to see. Me, fucking my new wife. Get on your knees and pray I have another son.”
A gun is pushed against the priest’s forehead.
“Please, Mr. Armstrong. You can’t do this here. I’m begging you.”
The gun goes off, and I start screaming until a hand is slapped over my mouth to silence me.
The priest has been shot in the foot, and he collapses to the ground, groaning in pain.
“You should have thought about the consequences before you accepted my generous donation to your church. You knew exactly what sort of man I am,” Mr. Armstrong growls at the priest as he removes his shirt and tie.
I want this nightmare to end.
Shoot me.
Please.
I want to go back to Pharr, to my little trailer. To a time where I thought the world was hell because I had nothing. I have everything I want now, and it’s all being ripped away from me, piece by piece. Pharr is like heaven compared to this.
Who will look after Betty?
Lena’s dead.
Eaton’s dead.
Oh God, poor Max.
