Page 37 of Reckoning

What does that mean? “Even if that were true, what does it matter? Their endgame is the same.”

“I think it matters quite a bit.”

I didn’t want to hear any more cop-outs. I picked up the fork and started eating; once the first bite of food hit my lips, I couldn’t stop. I shoveled the food into my mouth like I was starving, which I realized wasn’t too far off base. It had been just about twenty-four hours since I had last eaten.

“Where are my parents?” My voice was stiff like granite. I bit down too hard on my fork.

“Somewhere they won’t do any more damage.”

“Are they safe?”

He glanced up from his phone. “They will be if they can follow instructions.”

I tensed. “Is that a threat?”

He looked at me seriously. “It’s a promise.”

I was wound so tight, tied up in barbed wire cutting me deeper every time I breathed.

“If someone hurt my parents …”

“They were intact when they left last night. If they behave, they won’t suffer.” He reached across the table and tapped my hand twice before I jerked away. “The same goes for you.”

“I’m suffering just by being here!” I stuck more food in my mouth to avoid talking more. My appetite was disappearing rapidly, but I needed food in my stomach. “You could help me. Right now. Put me in a car and get me out of here.”

“If Meyer didn’t track you down, Conrad would. And then he’d kill you.”

I was going to be sick. My fork clattered against my plate, and I put my head in my hands.

“Madeline.” Joshua ducked his head down to peer at me. “Stay in control.”

My breath came too short for me to get any oxygen. I gasped deeper, but I still couldn’t fill my lungs. The chair jerked underneath me as Joshua pulled me away from the table and then pushed my head down between my legs, running one large palm over my back.

“Just focus on your breathing.”

“I’m going to die here.”

“You don’t know that.”

God, he couldn’t even promise me I wasn’t going to get murdered.

“Just kill me now, Joshua, and get it over with.”

“Meyer would destroy me.”

I rocked back and forth in the chair, shrugging off Joshua’s hand. My skin felt like it was boiling off my body, and my tongue was too big for my mouth.

I screamed.

I screamed out all my frustration of the past two weeks, the horrific treatment I’d suffered at the hands of grown men who took advantage of my physical weakness to inflict physical punishment that may have left permanent damage on my body.

I screamed because I allowed myself to think I could have carved out any kind of happiness with the man who held me.

I screamed at myself for being so naïve and stupid, and now it was going to kill me.

*

I thought I would be restricted, imprisoned, but I was pretty much allowed to do whatever I wanted. Joshua still prevented me from opening a few doors, but I had nearly as much freedom as I’d had before, despite the fact that I tried my hardest to make Joshua’s life difficult—breaking plates, locking doors, demanding different food than what was placed in front of me. He took it all with stoic acceptance, cleaning my messes and making me whatever I demanded to eat. But when he threatened to take the doors off their hinges, I had to relent. I got what I needed anyway.

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