Page 16 of Saved By My Buyers

“Such a pity,” he says softly, burying his face in my neck, next to Jack’s present.

That’s too much for me, and I drop my fork, the food long forgotten as I dart away. Gareth barely moves as his hand snatches my hair, pulling me slowly back as I shriek.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” my new stepfather says with a quiet chuckle. “I saw how you acted around Jack. You obviously like older men. Is this little trinket from him? You’re a little cock tease, aren’t you?”

“Me? Jack? No, no,” I whimper, not understanding what he means. Is he saying I did something in exchange for this present? “He’s my dad’s best friend. Jack has always been in my life, and he moved here recently.”

I hope that knowing Jack is nearby will save me from whatever this is. There are black spots crawling over my vision, and I can’t breathe. Fuck, why can’t I just force my lungs to do their only job?!

“Hmm,” Gareth grunts, wrapping my hair in his fist and yanking me, so my back is against his chest. The point of a knife is against my neck so quickly it makes my head spin even more, and I’m glad I can’t breathe. There’s something hard against my ass, but I can’t understand it.

He’s my stepfather. He’s supposed to want my mom. What is happening?!

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill them and make you watch, little girl,” he says nonchalantly. He’s talked like this about his work with Mom before. It’s as if he’s not attached to the words, and I realize this is what disassociation looks like.

“Okay,” I gasp, tears pooling in my eyes. This house isn’t a chance for a new life. It’s a fucking tomb. I was better off in that apartment alone. People can’t hurt me if they’re not around.

“Glad we could have this little chat, stepdaughter,” Gareth says, wrapping his hand around the chain and snapping it off me before releasing me and tossing the knife to the side. “Don't you want your snack anymore?”

“No, thank you,” I whisper, my feet already moving away. He could throw the knife at me, but I feel as if there’s a slim possibility he will. Wrapping my arm around my waist, I force myself to remember the turns I took to get to the kitchen so I can make it to my room before I puke everything I’ve had to eat today.

Grateful is an understatement when my brain doesn’t fail me, and I shut myself back into my room and lock the door. Racing to the bathroom, I spend most of the night throwing up and sobbing.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. My stepfather is a sick man, and he officially has control over my life. God, what did I do to deserve this?

Chapter Three

Bronwyn

Ilove having Dahlia living here at the house. Smiling as I think about the wedding and how incredible it was, I frown as I realize I haven’t seen her since. This house is huge, and Daddy asked me to do some charity work for the hospital.

“Hey, are you okay?” I ask, knocking on her door. One of the maids mentioned that Dahlia has gotten lost a few times, and I don’t blame her. I kind of hate how big it is at times. It gets lonely.

“I’m fine,” a voice mumbles.

“I don’t think I like that,” I say, trying to open the door. “Why is the door locked? Dahlia, it’s me. Would you please open the door?”

After what feels like forever, I can hear the sound of feet getting closer to the door, and the door unlocks and creaks open slowly. Pushing it open, I squint to see inside. All the blinds are closed, making it difficult to see.

“Do you have a headache?” I ask, worried by the darkness. My mom used to have really debilitating migraines when she had cancer.

“No, I just don’t feel like getting out of bed,” Dahlia mumbles from under the covers.

“Then I’ll be right back, and we’ll spend the day in bed,” I tell her, turning to leave and grab my laptop.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says, sounding panicked, which makes me raise my brow.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask carefully. I want to fix it if I did. I try to make sure to check in with people, because sometimes I overstep. I really like Dahlia, and I want to make sure I didn’t mess up already.

“You? No!” Dahlia says, pulling the blankets off her head. “I just didn’t think you’d want to babysit me while I lay in bed.”

“Do you feel like talking about it?” I ask. I feel as if I’m playing twenty questions, but she’s not giving me anything.

“No, thank you,” she grunts, covering her head back up.

“I’m going to be back in ten minutes,” I say. “We're going to watch movies together, so I suggest you change your clothes into new pajamas and brush your teeth. Ten minutes!”

Slamming the door shut, I wait as I hear her squeak and feet hit the floor as she runs to change. Smirking, I walk slowly to my room to get my things.

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