Page 99 of Beautifully Wounded

I grin.

Thank fuck, because I’m not letting her run off right now.

“Back to my question. What were your punishments?”

“As a kid, just the typical grounding or going to bed without dinner. Being made to do extra chores. A slap on the hand a few times.” She shrugs and I nod, brushing back some of her blonde flyaways.

“And what about more recently? Did your punishments change?”

I already know the answer, but I need her to work through it and come to the realisation herself.

“Yes,” she whispers, moving to lower her head, but I lift her chin again, making sure she keeps her head up.

“Don’t be ashamed of that, Angel.”

Her eyes turn glassy as she fights back tears, and as much as I don’t want to see the pain in her eyes, I know these conversations need to be had. Especially now that I know which church she’s been attending with her family.

“Tell me how they changed.”

She chews the inside of her cheek for a few beats, and I can see she’s working hard not to cry.

“Grounded turned into total isolation and being banned from being friends with certain people. Being sent to bed without dinner turned into not being allowed food for the entire weekend sometimes, or only being allowed to eat a certain thing, like porridge.” She shudders. “I fucking hate porridge.”

I grin. “Angel, did you just swear?”

Her lips spread wide into a grin, and she bashfully bites her lip.

Fuuuuck. I want to bite that fucking lip.

Finally, she relaxes on my lap, resting back on my arm as she continues to analyse her punishments.

“Extra chores turned into complete slave labour.”

“How so?” I ask, my gaze falling to her dainty fingers resting on her thigh, and the way they fidget.

Without thinking too much about it—because let’s be fucking honest, if I overthink it, I won’t do it—I take her hand in mine, stroking my thumb over the top of her hand and watch how her gaze falls to where we are connected.

“Ahhh…” She loses concentration for a moment before she shakes her head and continues. “Instead of mopping the floor, I was forced to clean it with a rag on my hands and knees. Instead of doing the dishes, I was forced to take every dish, glass, and bowl from the cupboards and wash and dry them, even if they were clean.” She falls silent then, and I drag my gaze from our hands to her face to see her lower lip wobbling as she struggles with her emotions. “Then there was the night Mum made me cut the back lawn. It was freezing, dark, pouring rain in a storm…” Her tear-filled caramel eyes dart up to mine and she sobs. “She made me cut the entire back lawn with a pair of scissors. It took me six hours. I finished at four in the morning, and even though I couldn’t feel my fingers from how cold they were, they hurt so much from using the scissors for so long. This,” she holds her hand up to show me the side of her right thumb where an oval-shaped scar is, “this was raw skin. Blistered and bleeding.”

“Fuck, Angel. I’m sorry your parents did that to you.”

“That wasn’t even the worst thing,” she whispers, and my fucking heart sinks. “The times I did something she found unacceptable regarding Daniel were the times that I’ll never be able to forget.” She shakes her head before swiping at the tears. “I was so clueless the first time it happened. I thought when she brought the Scripture out that I’d have to recite something and repent.”

“What Scripture?” I ask, already having an idea.

“The Scripture of Symme.”

Fuck. Symme. That’s different. Last I heard, the Valley of the Trinity fellowship cults were using the Scripture of Adie. I’ll need to update the Marx crew and the Angel sisters about this.

“That’s a type of bible, right?” I ask and she nods, leaning into me more and resting her head on my shoulder.

“So what happened when your mum brought the Scripture out?”

“Well… there was some reciting at first. Followed by an admonishment.”

“Admonishment?” I ask, not all that familiar with religious terms.

“It’s like a reprimand. A warning,” she explains, her fingers gently gliding over my open palm, like she’s not sure she should be touching me.

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