Page 2 of Unwilling Mate

Now that I’m eighteen, though, I could go out and get a job, but since my stepmother wouldn't let me go to school, I have no education.

Swallowing down the thought of my dire future, I give her a wider smile and eat faster. Cindy chuckles from across the table, but I ignore her. All would feel wrong in the world if she weren’t being a spoiled brat some of the time.

“How’s the stew?” Cindy asks a moment later, a note of humor in her tone.

I smile toward my stepmother again, letting her know I like it, then scribble on the pad.It’s good. Thank you, guys, for thinking of me on my birthday.

Angela cheers her glass against mine and nudges the end of mine up, so I guzzle down most of the wine in one big gulp. Hopefully, she doesn’t use the empty glass as an opportunity to refill it. It turns out that wine really isn’t my favorite thing.

I keep eating, my head getting a little fuzzy, which I pin down to the wine since I’ve never had it before. I’ve witnessed many drunken nights between the three of them, though. No wonder they drink so much. It’s a sort of light-headed buzzy feeling that makes me happy in a way but also a little sad.

I don’t meet anyone’s eyes as I finish off the bowl and scrape the sides with a thick hunk of bread I'd made the day before. Cold hands touch my cheeks, and I jerk away from my stepmother’s boney fingers. “You look a little heated. Are you feeling okay?”

Quickly, I scribble on the pad.Fine, it’s probably just the wine, right?

She pats my hand this time, curling it around the pen. “Of course, while you have your pen out, could you scribble your name on this for me?”

I try to stare down at the white piece of paper she slides in front of me, but it looks like a bunch of vague black squiggles. If she wants me to add to them, then why now? I know something is off, but my mind is fuzzy, and I keep losing my train of thought. Why am I signing this again? How much wine did I have?

“Don’t forget to sign right here, dear. It’s important, remember?”

No, I don’t remember. What's important?

Angela wraps her hand around mine and guides it to the paper. “Right here. Just sign.” I scribble my signature and set the pen on the table. The room spins.

“Very good. Happy Birthday, by the way. I’ve been anticipating this day for a long time. Now, let’s get you into bed before you collapse. No more wine for you.”

I stand, and my legs feel like jelly. I let out a little sound of surprise and then clamp my hands on the table to keep my balance.

Cindy and Angela clear out of the way while my stepmother hikes her arms under mine and lifts me so I’m leaning against her shoulder. “You’re nothing more than skin and bones, girl.”

I swallow back a retort and let her lead me down the hall and up the stairs to my attic room. We make it without any serious mishaps, and I mostly fall onto the lumpy mattress and then list sideways until my head hits the pillow.

“Comfortable?” my stepmother asks.

I nod and feel her loosening my clothes to put a nightgown over my head. Once I’m dressed again, she lays the blanket flat over my body, and I catch a brief glimpse of her between shafts of moonlight. There’s something in her eyes as she stares at me. My stepsisters hover in the doorway, one stacked over the other so they can both see inside with their whole head. It makes them look ridiculous, but I don’t say anything. I never say anything.

My stepmother claps her hands together. “Well, I hope you had a lovely birthday. I need to go get these dishes cleaned up and pour myself a little glass of wine. You sleep tight now.”

She makes a quick exit, and my sisters slip into my room after she leaves. Cindy prowls around my space, and I want to tell her to stop touching my things, but I don’t have it in me. The wine must have hit me harder than I thought because I can’t really feel anything in my body to peel myself off the mattress and confront her.

Angela stares around the space, her arms crossed like she’s afraid she might accidentally brush something and get her snow-white sweater dirty. “How can you live like this?”

I want to scream at her that I don’t have a choice, but as usual, everything stays in my head. Every pain, every shout, every demand. All of it stays locked in my mind. I can’t utter a single word. Not since my father died. The room starts to spin, and I feel like I might be sick.

A low moan comes from somewhere, and I realize it was me. Okay, no more wine for Abigail.

Cindy saunters out of the room, Angela in her wake, but she casts me one last glance in the doorway. Whatever is in her eyes is rooted in fear. My stepmother stares at me like a beast for slaughter, and Cindy looks at me like competition. Angela…well…Angela never really looks at me at all. Not until tonight, and I swear there’s something like fear there.

2

THORN

Something is wrong,very wrong. I feel like my insides are on fire. Every nerve ending in my body signals my brain that something is happening, but I just don’t know what. I’ve never felt like this in my life, and I’ve been alive for a long time.

Reaching for my chest, I claw at the skin there, hoping to alleviate this unknown sensation. Nothing helps. I pace from wall to wall in my spacious cabin as the urge to tear everything inside becomes stronger.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

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