Page 37 of Through the Water

I pulled the pen from the binding of the notebook and scrawled,

You don’t know?

It didn’t make sense.

“No,” Morgan admitted, sadness clouding her features. “He said you were in a car accident. I needed you to help me understand, but you can’t even talk.”

We told each other everything—if I ran away, she would have known the reason, unless…

Unless I no longer trusted her.

I released the notebook and dropped my hands down to the wheels on my wheelchair, pulling back until I was satisfied with the distance I’d placed between us.

Was this Tristan’s plan—using Morgan as a spy?

It seemed ridiculous—even to me—but there was no other explanation.

“Ari, it’s just that Tristan—”

No, I mouthed at the mention of his name, holding my hand up. Stop.

The same woman who’d once stood in the middle of Sunday school and proclaimed that the church’s teachings were archaic and slanted toward men had seemingly changed her stance without a second thought. Meanwhile, I’d been questioning the accuracy of my memories because I appeared to be the only person in the world who saw Tristan James for what he was.

At night, I’d laid awake, wondering if everyone else had it right. I’d even gone as far as considering the possibility that his treatment of me was nothing more than a direct response to my alleged rebelliousness.

The thought made my stomach churn, but deep down, I knew I wasn’t the problem. It didn’t matter what other people believed because they didn’t know him like I did. They’d never experienced his rage.

But Morgan had.

Maybe to an even greater extent than me.

In what could only be described as unfortunate timing on my part, I’d overheard the sounds of Morgan’s quiet sobs while Tristan groaned loudly in what I presumed to be ecstasy. Even with my minimal experience, I wasn’t completely naïve when it came to sex. I just struggled to come to terms with the details of the arrangement.

When Sister Helene lectured us in health class on the importance of bearing Eve’s sin with submissive hearts, I’d almost believed she was joking. The lesson was just one of many in the church-funded private school curriculum, or, as I’d affectionately come to call it: A Study in Women’s Suffering.

There’d never been any real education in health class, just a consistent reminder that sex was a necessary punishment for women.We’d once spent an entire semester discussing how faithful and obedient Adam had been until his wife had used her sex to turn him away from the truth.

Because heaven forbid, we take a step back and examine the talking snake and his roadside fruit stand.

Despite of our cursed souls, the church inexplicably believed our bodies were sacred vessels, meant to remain untouched and pure until our wedding night. It was a man’s divine right to join his body with his wife’s, bringing her sins to light. Because nine months of pregnancy and the agony of labor weren’t enough.

Unsurprisingly, I’d never been in much of a hurry to marry.

I might have assumed what I’d overheard was nothing more than the physical act of marriage, had I not seen the marks on Morgan’s body the following day. No lesson could explain the spectrum of old and new bruises coating her torso.

Nothing could explain that level of brutality.

Which was why I was having a hard time believing she’d see eye to eye with Tristan on anything. There had never been any problems between us. If anything, our shared wounds had only brought us closer together.

“If you would just listen to me—please,” she begged, hugging herself.

I shook my head, wanting to vomit as I remembered the things I’d shared with her over the years. Had she been sent to give me a lecture on remaining obedient, or to simply discuss the importance of not crashing Tristan’s luxury cars when running away from home?

Suddenly, she jolted upright, staggering toward me. I jerked the wheels again, but only managed a few inches before connecting with the side of the bed.

Morgan blocked my next escape attempt, locking her hand around my cheeks to pin me in place. “Listen to me, goddammit! I’m not here to hurt you.”

I tensed my shoulders as her fingers dug into the tender flesh above my jaw but didn’t move again. Morgan’s chest rose and fell with several rapid breaths before she loosened her hold on me.

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