Page 1 of Drowned By the Dreadnought

Chapter 1

Morwenna

I wince and swallow the bile rising in my throat as my father’s grip turns bruising. He stomps down the hall toward his den and flicks a glare over his shoulder at me as I struggle to keep up with him, no longer hiding his disdain for me now that we’re out of sight from prying eyes. Dread builds in my chest.

He’s never been angry enough to hurt me in the hall before. He always waits until the front door shuts between us and the world to release his cruelty.

Out here, he’s the man my mother loved.

In there, he’s the man her death created.

But I don’t dare drag my feet and earn a worse punishment, so I move as fast as I can toward the entrance of my torture chamber.

There’s no one here to protect me from his rage.

Longing rips through me, but I shove the emotion back into its little box, along with the memories I cling to when I’m locked in my room.

My father yanks the door open with a snarl.

“I told you to keep your goddamn mouth shut, didn’t I?”

He flings me inside so hard I lose my footing and land on my shoulder with an excruciating pop. I slide across the floor until the old, tattered couch stops my momentum.

The urge to curl up in a ball and weep as my father glares at me from the doorway makes it hard to breathe.

It didn’t use to be this way. As a child, my parents doted on and loved me. My mother nurtured and coddled me. My father pampered and smiled at me.

We were a family. I was happy.

So happy I dreamed of finding silly little girl things, like a knight in shining armor and a happily ever after. So happy I naively placed those dreams in the hands of my childhood sweetheart, Russt.

Enamored with his boyish charms and budding strength, I followed him everywhere. We played, laughed, and ate together as often as we could. He teased me relentlessly, pulling my hair and putting gross things in my pocket, but whenever I needed him, he was there. I thought I’d found my happily ever after with him.

He promised to protect me. I believed him.

Everything changed when my mother died. Russt left me. My father hit me.

And it’s only gotten worse since then.

“The only thing you’re good for is what’s between your legs, and even that’s broken,” my father snarls as he steps inside and slams the door.

His words cut deep into my soul, but I scramble to my feet and dart toward the back hall, clasping my shoulder to mitigate the pain.

Maybe if I reach my room fast enough, he’ll take away my blanket instead of beating me. My heart wails at the thought, but I spent years without it. Most nights I only had a bare sleeping pad, so I can survive without it again if it means escaping his brutal punishment.

I lunge into the kitchen and almost make it to the back hall, but I’m not fast enough. My father catches me by the hair and swings me against the counter, knocking the breath out of my lungs. I push up to run away, but he shoves me face first into the chipped laminate. Pain blasts through my cheek and everything goes dark for a moment. I come to with a scream as he yanks my injured arm.

With his eyes fixed on the bucket of stale, rusty water in the broken sink, he pulls me across the counter.

I flail and scream. He sweeps me across the rough surface, shredding my shirt and knocking everything onto the floor.

He closes his fist in my hair and holds my face inches above the water. I brace my hands on the edge of the sink, my fear greater than the pain in my shoulder, but he’s too strong.

“Take this as a warning, bitch. Don’t open your mouth again.”

Coppery water invades my nostrils as he dunks me into the bucket. My scalp stings as he yanks me up.

“If this next round of hormones doesn’t start your heat, I’ll cut my losses and get rid of you. Just like this.”

---