Page 27 of Wanted

I must still speak my truth out loud, though.

Speak it or forget it.

If I keep holding everything inside, I fear one day I’ll start to believe it.

My denial causes red to flush up his neck and his eyes seem to shine even brighter as he reaches the side of my bed.

“Perhaps you dreamt of God and His greatness gave you a scare then?” he grits out.

The way he towers over me, fists clenching again, causes me to shrink toward the other side of my bed.

I don’t know what has gotten into him, but he’s truly frightening me now.

He’s a big man. Much bigger than the boy who first hit me with the rod. There’s not an ounce of fat to be seen on his body. He’s wide, thick, and all corded muscle.

Sculpted into a warrior of God, he’s the tip of the Order’s arrow.

I’ve felt those huge, clenched fists of his pound into my flesh many times, but it’s always done in punishment, and always done with Sister Agatha present.

As awful and sick as Sister Agatha is, her cruelty does have some limits.

She never allows him to go too far. Bones are not to be broken. Organs are not to be harmed. I must be able to walk away on my own free will.

A visit to the hospital would draw too much unwanted attention and questions.

Yet Sister Agatha isn’t here right now…

Afraid to answer his question, I grip my blanket even tighter and slowly shake my head.

Perhaps if I admit that is indeed the case, he’ll be satisfied and leave. But I can’t bring myself to do it.

I can’t bring myself to accept and embrace the horrible creature they believe me to be.

I’m not evil. I have no desire to corrupt others, and I can’t pretend otherwise.

Not if I want to keep what little sanity I have left.

Jeffrey’s chest rises as he sucks in a deep breath, and I find myself holding my own breath, hoping he’ll back down and let the whole matter go. But then he suddenly lunges forward, moving with more speed than a man his size should be capable of.

I shriek as he grabs my blanket and rips it away from me. The rough fabric burning the flesh of my palms as it’s pulled from my grip.

Tossing my blanket to the side, where I can’t reach it, his gaze instantly drops. But it doesn’t drop to all the blood staining my bed.

His gaze drops to my chest and remains there.

I watch as his eyes seem to fill up with something almost... hungry and feral.

An unfamiliar expression that strangely feels familiar. Like I’ve glimpsed it before in a nightmare.

He stares at my breasts pushing against my white nightgown with an intensity that causes me to freeze as if I was just turned into stone.

He’s never looked at me like this before.

Like he wants to…eatme.

I can’t seem to get enough air as he bends over my bed and slaps his palms down.

Panting, I feel like I’m about to pass out in terror.

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