Page 7 of Even Angels fall
Because I can see it in his eyes, he believes it’s his power now and I’m not sure he even realizes that it got to his head.
He loves power too much, and I’m pretty sure his removing my chair is just to show he has all the power over me.
He doesn’t need that for me to know, but he is still going to make me sit on the ground or eat while standing just to prove it.
“Sit,” he says without even looking at me.
I walk to the spot on his left, facing Ariël, and lower myself. It’s not practical, but I’ll make do. Like I said, it was that or stay standing the whole meal.
Not sure how my etiquette lesson is going to go like this, but if there’s one thing I learned with my father, it’s not to ask questions.
I have a raised scar on my back for each time I talked back or questioned his actions.
I was a dumb teenager who thought Michaël was still my father and he wouldn’t dare raise a hand on me.
So, when he started to count each time I talked back, I knew something would come, but I still believed my punishment would not be so drastic.
Until he reached ten.
That was when he decided he had counted enough.
That was when he had gotten the whip out.
At first, I thought it was good. If he was the one giving the lashes, it meant he could control the strength with which he hit. He could make it soft; he could make it endurable.
Oh, I was so freaking wrong.
Yes, he controlled the strength he used, but not in the way I initially thought. No, he hit as hard as he could.
By the end of those ten lashes, my back was a bloodied mess and my teeth had ground so much that I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had shattered in my mouth.
I wish I could say I didn’t cry, but it would be a lie.
But I was silent. I didn’t beg. I didn’t scream. I didn’t yell. I didn’t curse the world or even him.
I silently let my tears slide on my cheeks until all ten strikes finished, and then I hardened myself.
Or I tried.
There were two other occurrences like this.
Only two and there was a lot more time between the first time I heard him count one again and the time he reached ten.
I’m on three right now, but it’s been a long time since I talked at all in his presence.
My tongue could be cut from my mouth. He wouldn’t hear a difference.
“No.”
The word comes like a shock.
What does he mean by ‘no’?
I stop in my tracks, halfway to the ground before rising again.
“No, no, no,” he says, and when I turn my face just enough to look at him from the corner of my eye, I can see the smug smile he’s sporting.
I will not like whatever he has in mind. I just know it.
