Page 12 of Newton

Nathan made his promises, and, if anything, the man keeps his word. He doesn't make idle threats. If it leaves his mouth, then it might as well be drilled into stone because he'll see it through.

It's how I know I'm as good as dead. I doubt the misery of my life will end as quickly as Xan's did. There will be no bullet through my skull, at least not before he hurts me to the point that I beg for it, and even then, he'll prolong my ending.

I feel exposed as I once again try to get comfortable in the armchair. There's no chance in hell I'll climb into the man's bed. When he comes back and finds me there, he may think it means he's able to take liberties I'm not offering.

I've heard the women in the house whisper about Cerberus. Although many of them, like myself, aren't from the area, a lot of them interact with women from town at their jobs. They bring home all sorts of stories, ones I have to eavesdrop on because there aren't people going out of their way to hold conversations with me.It's as if their instincts tell them I can't be trusted, and I guess, for the most part, that's true. Look where even the slightest hint of a friendship got Beth today.

The closet beckons to me, but I do my best to ignore it. There's no safety in there, despite what I thought as a child.

My mother married Nathan Adair when I was five and he seemed like a nice man. He’d dote on me and spoil me with gifts. I didn’t catch him watching me like many of the other men that my mother brought around.

He never faltered and never made me doubt him while they were dating. He treated me like his daughter, and Xan treated me like his sister. It lasted six months following their marriage, three months after finalizing the adoption that made me a real part of the family.

I remember the pride I felt that day, smiling for the camera as we stood beside the judge who signed the papers. The pictures from that day were still framed on my bedside table the day I ran this last time. When I tried to put it away once, Nathan made me lock my eyes on the images the entire time he hurt me.

I shudder, my eyes still on the semi-open closet door.

"There's no safety in there," I mutter, the threat of tears burning the back of my nose as I force myself to put my back to the temptation.

It took three more months before my mother would believe that the man she married was a lie, that he didn't love us as he claimed. I squeeze my eyes shut, still able to hear the whispers of love Nathan would speak in my ear when he did unmentionable things to my young body.

Within two years, my mother had swallowed a bottle of pills, leaving me to face the monsters alone.

Incapable of fighting the pull any longer, I rush across the room and tug open the closet door, flipping on the light. It's bigger than I originally presumed it would be.

I pull the door closed, shutting myself inside. As much as I want to keep the light on, I know I need to be able to see the shadows under the door to anticipate when my safety ends.

I crouch into the corner, the man's clothes offering no protection the way a row of dresses offered by a woman's wardrobe would.

My stomach growls, but I ignore the issue. I've gone longer than a day without eating, and I know I can handle even more.

I want to curse every bad thought I had about the shelter. I'd give anything to be there right now, undiscovered by Nathan and Xan.

Tears leak from my eyes, and I know better than to fight them any longer. It'll be best if I can just get them all out so they won't cause problems along the way, but even as they fall, I fear Nathan will somehow find me cowered here.

Emotions are useless. I heard him say it many times, all the while in a rage for something that happened to him.

The man didn't consider anything but sorrow and fear as useless emotions. Anger was okay because it fueled one's need to seek vengeance. Rage provided power and a certain level of equity needed to stay on top. He caught it often. He'd feed it any chance he got.

I tell myself I'm crying for me and the life I deserved rather than the life I was given, but I know better.

Tears streak down my face, tickling my neck on their trek into disappearing into my shirt. They fall for Xan. Not for the man he became but for the boy I met many, many years ago. He was already broken, his punishments already in full swing, but he never once whispered about his own pain. He'd lie and tell me that he fell off his bike when I'd catch him wince, knowing full well that he hadn't been on a bike in days.

The first time Nathan lifted his hand to me, Xan stood bravely between me and his father. He was struck repeatedly for it, but he never told me he regretted it.

When he did it a second time, I saw it the moment Nathan decided to use his son against me.

My shoulders shake uncontrollably, and despite trying to stay quiet with my hands cupped over my mouth, I can't stop the sobs.

I don't want to think of my past. There's nothing about it I can control.

I do know that Xan was a monster created by his father. He didn't start out that way.

I'll never be able to forgive him for what he did to me for years, but I can at least pray he finds peace in whatever place real-life monsters are sent to when they die.

I have no clue what the future holds for me, but I do know I'll have no control over it.

My body feels heavy with grief as I lean my head against the wall of the closet.

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