Page 6 of Finding Fate

“Emergency birth control.”

“Why would I need that? You forced birth control on me years ago, remember?”

His dark coffee-colored eyes hold to mine—the one thing that reminds me I’m a part of him. “I’d rather you be double covered.”

Anger washes over me and my temper flares—another thing we share. I reach forward and sling it off the table. “Maybe I want to have his baby.”

He doesn’t show an ounce of rage. He rarely does. He didn’t even flinch, his six-three frame standing tall. That’s what makes him so scary. He has no bark to warn you. Only bite. His hands go for his belt buckle, already working it undone. “I’ve had enough of that mouth. The disrespect is coming to an end. I’m going to get you in line if I have to break you to do it. Children have their place. You earn your way to the top.”

“No,” I whisper. “I’m an adult. You can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You aremyproperty until I give you away to someone. And until a man is worthy enough to be your husband, I’m going to preserve what will eventually be his. You’re not going to have that boy’s baby. Or a bastard child. You should have never let him back in. We aren’t going there again. I’m not going to be blindsided this time. Take the fucking pill or I can force it. Your choice.”

“It’s my body! Everything should be my choice!” The leather makes a swishing sound as it’s pulled through the belt loops, wrecking my nerves. Tears start streaming down my face when he folds the belt in half, making a loop at one end. “Daddy, no.”

He picks the small pill up from where it landed on the floor. “You have one more chance to take it.”

I’m crying so hard it’s becoming difficult to breathe. “Why can’t you let us be together? I love him.”

He holds out his hand with the pill in his palm. “He’s not good enough for you. Your grandfather would have been far worse than me. Consider yourself lucky.”

My heart constricts in my chest and I cry harder. I take it. “If it had been with someone else, someone you approved of, would things have been different? Would you have changed your mind?”

“You were fifteen. We did what was right.”

“Answer the question.”

“I can’t.”

Him not being able to say no says everything. I get off the bed and walk to the footboard of my sleigh bed, tears soaking my face and shirt, chest heaving and shortened breaths coming in quick bursts one behind the other. I place the pill in my mouth and position both hands on the footboard, before getting in the correct position. Then I bite down hard on the pill until it’s crushed into tiny pieces and look at him, blowing the powder-like slivers out in his direction. “I’m not going to love who I’m told. Look at where an arranged marriage got you. You can beat me ‘til I’m black and blue, but I’m going to love who I want to.”

Within seconds the first lick comes, tearing a wail from my throat, but I don’t move. I refuse to, even though I’m wearing shorts. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of me trying to run. They come one after the other, hard, a new lick against every part of my legs, my butt, and my back. I can feel the power behind the strike as the leather cuts into me. I can hear the wind off the belt as he swings it against me like a tennis racket swinging at a ball. Every inch of my backside feels like it’s on fire. I will no doubt have stripes and whelps. I scream with another hit, spit flying out of my mouth, and when I fall forward from my knees buckling, my abdomen striking against the rounding of the wood, he stops.

Humiliation and pain wash over me. Every muscle spasms like a domino effect. “Face me,” he says, sounding out of breath. He doesn’t spare me because I’m a girl. If anything, he’s harder on me. He comes from a very old school traditional upbringing where the females were virgins to the men that won their hand. Arranged marriages were normal and preferred. Choose which families merge, plan for the best fits to reproduce to keep the lineage going.

My great grandparents were immigrants to this country. They fought for a high level of success and kept passing it down. My grandfather was a very hard man. I wasn’t close to him even when he lived here. Their methods of parenting are long outdated. Physical discipline is always required to make someone fall back in line. But it was said Dad was softer than the rest. It makes sense. My grandfather lived here most of his life and my father was born here. He was taught the ways of his upbringing and adopted others, but he got worse when Mom took off, becoming more like his dad, and I hate her for it.

I place my trembling hand over my mouth, trying to smother my cries, already turning toward him despite the throbbing of my limbs. “Why did I whip you?”

I close my eyes, constant new tears draining from my eyes. I open them. Looking at him is a requirement. His angular jaw and chiseled chin make him look more masculine, and definitely packs more punch in times like these. “Because I disobeyed you.”

“Do you think I want to do this to you? It causes me pain. I’ve let you make a mockery of me for too long. I’m done. No important man wants a girl that runs around spreading her legs. I love you, Gabrielle, but you’re going to fall in line with this family. You’re getting older. Your grandfather has been on my ass for a while about suitors for you. They’re already being discussed, and if it’s someone from back home he’ll gain citizenship as soon as you marry. Two worlds collide once again.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I never joke about important matters, especially when it involves my only daughter. You’ve had plenty of time to give me options to consider, or at least show me you’re heading in the right direction, yet you’re stalling. You forfeited that right. Maybe you should have moved on and stayed your ass away from him, because now you’re going to do it my way. You’re going to start by fixing your appearance like getting rid of that godawful dye job and scrubbing that orange shit off your skin to reveal the olive complexion you inherited from me. You’re going to go back to driving the car that’s been sitting in the garage for too long. I’ve already sold that piece of shit you’ve been driving. You’re going to get your act together and start college in the spring. Your credit cards are in the desk drawer. You’ll earn back your freedom, like a cell phone. I’m being more than fair. The next time I’m going to take your grandfather up on his offer and ship you overseas for him to straighten out.”

I can’t even see in front of me. I suppose it doesn’t matter, because he turns around and walks out, slamming the door behind him, the lock quickly sliding back in place. The second his feet leave my door all of the cries I was trying to silence push out at the same time, because something that most people take for granted, I want desperately—to love who I want.

I walk to my bed and crawl on it, before laying back on my stomach again, this time for completely different reasons, like my raw flesh and belt burns that will keep me from sitting or lying on my back for a while. The familiar memory is already playing before my lids are closed and darkness takes over. A dream for most was a nightmare for me.

Five

Gabby

Five years ago . . .

Istare at the round belly in front of me that’s strapped in monitors and covered with a hospital gown. The screen next to me swooshing in my ear has been my lifeline since I got here. Forty weeks and a day. I’ve put it off as long as I could, drawn it out, plead with any higher being up there. There is nothing else I can do at this point but hope for a miracle. It’s time. Had it not occurred naturally they were going to force it.

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