Page 14 of Surrender to Me

“Say it louder.”

“I am worthy,” I said. He walked back and forth in front of me, the cane held purposefully in his palm.

“These next questions, you need to answer quickly and carefully,” he said. He positioned the cane ready to smack my thighs, and I shook in anticipation of the pain. “Would you give up everything for your dream?”

“What—”

Smack!The welt from the cane appeared in seconds, searing my skin, leaving a purple and red line across my thighs like a candy cane stripe. The shock of the pain produced a dull ache in my stomach; it felt like he was punishing me.

“Everything, Riley,” he said.

Wasn’t that what I was supposed to want? What I had prepared myself for all of these years? To give up everything for my art?

Woosh! Smack! Woosh! Smack! He struck again and again, each time under the previous marks. I lost count of how many times. The pain was agonizing, like he was ripping my dreams from my very soul and devouring them raw. I was shaking so hard that I almost collapsed; the restraints around my wrists and his grip holding my waist kept me standing. I hadn’t felt pain like this before, not even when he took what he wanted from me in Monterey.

“Damn it, Owen,” I hissed, “I—”

“Would you give up everything to fail?” he yelled.

“I know what I want!”

A sad smile crept across his face. “That doesn’t answer my question,” he said.

Smack! The cane on my skin was like a blinding light, tearing each string of muscle apart from the others. It was hard to think. Would I give up everything just to fail? I had never considered failure. I couldn’t. I had to succeed. My whole identity depended on it. I needed my spot secured at the Foundation to know I was worthy. I needed the validation of the scholarship to show that I was on the right path.

Whoosh! Smack! The more Owen struck me, the more the pain felt like it was wrapping its fingers around my limbs, even the untouched ones, crushing me. I tried to concentrate. What was I giving up, exactly? I might have had Clay with me, but I missed my mother. I could do art in Southern California, couldn’t I? I wasn’t sure if this—all of San Francisco’s art scene, the Foundation included—was what I wanted. But it was all I had ever known. And at least I was closer to Owen.

Why did my heart go there? He didn’t have anything to do with my future.

Did he?

A final strike landed on my thighs and I cried out, feeling defeated beneath it. Owen held me up, the cane still clutched in his palm.

“What does your heart burn for, Riley?” he whispered.

It broke me down that I couldn’t answer that question. My rehearsed lines about only needing my art, my mother, and nothing else raced through my brain, but my heart told another story. It whispered Owen. That I needed him. A man who could cut deep to my core with his dark green eyes and a few words, finding exactly what I burned for.

The thoughts suffocated me and I couldn’t breathe. Owen quickly swiped the keys from my bra and unlocked each of the shackles. He carried me to the couch. I hadn’t even noticed I was crying until he started whispering to me.

“Listen to me closely,” he said. The uncontrollable sobs made my body heave. His fingertips grazed my scalp, calming my breathing, hypnotizing me into a subdued state. “Even if your scholarship is up for review, no one deserves it more than you.” He held my hand and I rested my head on his shoulder. I could feel his eyes looking down at me, so I looked up to meet them.

He wiped the tears away from my cheeks. “Don’t ever think that your dreams die with the Foundation,” he said.

I gave him questioning eyes, but he said nothing. I wanted to know what he meant. Did he not believe in me? Did he think I would lose my scholarship? Or was he trying to convince me to keep going, that I was meant for more than the Foundation? With these questions in my head, consciousness escaped me and I closed my eyes. “You are worthy, Riley Glass,” Owen whispered.

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