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He starts walking toward the garage. "Yeah, I heard. I hope you are planning on listening to Mom." He stomps off.

I grimace and watch Essex go.

5

BEATRICE

After another shower,I’m wearing a pale pink dress with matching pumps.I look like my mother, I think as I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom. My red hair is in a braid.

I hesitate before I leave my bedroom. There has been silence since I came home. I don't trust it. My father will have heard about my antics this afternoon. Whoever saw me in town will have gone to great lengths to make sure my father knows. Spies are everywhere. One day I will break free.

Gathering my wits, I take a deep breath and step out of my room. The hallway is painted white with expensive artwork on the walls. The dark mahogany floor is covered with elegant carpet runners. It's a prison I know well. The opulent decor only serves to emphasize the suffocating atmosphere of control and surveillance that permeates the house. As I make my way down the hallway, I prepare myself for the inevitable confrontation that awaits me.

I float downstairs and enter the dining room. The long dining table is set with fine China and crystal glasses, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere in the air. Mother, Father, Uncle David, and Judge—Grandfather—sit at the table, their expressions unreadable as they watch me approach.

Mother is twitching with nerves, which makes me feel more uncomfortable than usual. I take my seat with my father at the head of the table on my left and Uncle David on my right. Mother sits across from me, with Father and Judge to her left.

The men talk about nothing in particular while I struggle to swallow the food in front of me. I catch my mother's eye once and get a subtle shake of her head as a warning to keep quiet. I have a habit of talking when I'm nervous.

Evelyn brings dessert and I smile. I love Evelyn. She is the only real person in the room and in my life. Having grown up in this house with the four people at the table, I'm not sure how real I am.

Just as the door to the kitchen closes behind Evelyn, my father says, "Beatrice, can you explain how you got out of David's patrol car?"

"When was that?" Mother asks, a frown on her brows.

Father's face tightens.

"Uncle David left me in the back of the car. I couldn't breathe. It was so hot. Someone opened the door and let me out." I swallow hard, nerves in my stomach.

I see the look of horror on her face, but she quickly covers it up. I'm not the only one Dad uses his fists on.

"Who opened the door, Beatrice?" Uncle David asks.

"I don't know. Sweat was in my eyes. The door opened, and when I got out, no one was there."

Judge stares, and goose bumps appear on my skin. My grandfather is the devil. "Is that the truth?" His voice rumbles out of him.

"Yes, sir." My mouth is dry as dust. I reach for my glass of water. Father shouts and knocks it out of my hand. As the crystal glass sails through the air and shatters on the hardwood floor, a puddle of water appears.

Uncle David shoots to his feet and grabs my braid. He wraps the length of it in his powerful fist and drags me to my feet. He holds me to his chest with one arm around my stomach. I wasn't afraid when Atilio held me against him, but I am now.

"I have cameras outside the sheriff's office." He pulls on my braid. I gasp in pain. "Tell me who you were talking to," he demands.

Tears well up in my eyes as I try to think of a way out of this situation. I look at my father. "Help me."

"Do not speak to me until you tell us the truth," he shouts, his face red with anger. "You dressed like a slut as well! Were you planning to meet someone?"

"What, no!" My eyes go wide. "It was so hot, and Mom wanted milk."

"The truth, Beatrice. Now!" Father growls.

"I told you the truth. I don't know who it was." I shout, trying to get away from Uncle David… I’m going to be sick."

He drops me and I catch myself on the table.

"What are you doing?" The judge shouts. "She's lying."

Mother stares over my shoulder but doesn't meet my gaze. I keep my eyes on her as I straighten up. Father grabs me and slaps me hard across the face. I cry, clutching my cheek.

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