Page 15 of His to Keep

“Keep him still,” Father Aaron tells John while reaching for his back pocket. Climbing on top of the table, John pushes his hands into Callum’s shoulders.

“Get the fuck off me!” Callum yells, trying to push him off.

Father Aaron withdraws something long and metal from his back pocket. With a sharp flick, a knife appears—a deadly twist to this horrific night. Putting my hand over my mouth to muffle my cries, John rips open Callum’s shirt. Buttons scatter across the floor as Father Aaron declares, “Defiance is sin.”

Pressing the knife into his chest, blood pools around the blade, and Callum hisses out in pain.

“Stop!” I yell, surging forward and catching Father Aaron’s shirt. “You’re hurting him. Stop!”

Turning in my direction, awareness flickers in Father Aaron’s empty gaze, as if he’s only remembered I’m there. My body trembles. Any semblance of humanity isn’t there anymore, only something evil. He turns to me entirely, knife still in hand and pointing dangerously at my stomach.

“What did you say?” His voice quivers with anger. “Stop?”

My heart bounces off my chest as he takes a step forward. I stumble back, terrified of the knife being plunged into me. “F-Father Aaron, please. You’re scaring me.”

Rage flares in his eyes. Tossing the knife onto the table, he grabs the front of my dress and pushes me back. My scream tangles in my throat as he takes me out of the dining room. Behind us, John yells at Callum to move as I’m thrust upstairs and down the hall to the bedroom. Father Aaron’s foot connects with the door, and as it swings open, he pushes me inside. I hit the floor, the pain instantly splitting my body into two. I stay down, too afraid to get up. If I hadn’t seen him leave the knife downstairs, I would’ve thought this was it. I was going to die. When Callum is shoved inside in the same ruthless manner, the door closes and locks.

“My Lord. She deserves to be beaten for that,” John says beyond the door.

“No.” Father Aaron’s voice chills me, and I can envision the smile there. “She will learn her place here soon enough.”

Footsteps stomp off, and I let out an unsteady breath. A little time melts away before a hand touches my shoulder. Callum kneels beside me, his face a mess. Bruises already darken parts of his face, his bottom lip split, and a trail of blood oozing from his nose. The cut on his chest looks awful and ragged. Hopefully not deep enough to need stitches, but enough to leave a scar to add to the rest. And for what? Because he stood up to John, who taunted him? It’s unfair.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as he helps me to the bed. “Really, I—”

“No,” he surprises me by saying instead. “That wasn’t you—it was me.”It was John,I want to correct him but don’t. It looks like he wants to say more, but our eyes meet instead. Since being locked in a room with him, his mouth lifts into a small smile for the first time. It’s sad, but I’ve never seen anything as beautiful and honest in my life. Whatever comes of this, whatever punishment is next, at least I’m not alone.

* * *

An eternity seemsto pass before the door unlocks. I’m sitting on the bed and Callum on the chair when Father Aaron walks in slowly, obviously taking his time to draw out the effect. With his hands stowed in his pockets and arrogant grin in place, excitement shines bright in his eyes. Even after preparing myself for his return, fear still grips me.

“Stand.” We both stand, and he turns to me first. “I was going to tell you at dinner that I saw your grandmother today, Ava.”

My insides shudder. “W-what?”

“I thought you might like to hear that I’ve never seen her look so happy. She even thanked me for helping with the summer’s fundraiser today.”

My bottom lip trembles. Gran from my dreams, begging the police to help find me, is replaced with a woman who bears a beaming smile as she contributes to raising money for the church. Someone who still goes about her daily business like I’m not a thought. Not searching for me. Not helpless to find me—

“Because of the events this evening, you will both not eat until I’ve seen you’ve repented for your sins. Then we’ll see who wants to continue beingdefiant.”

He turns and leaves, banging the door so hard and jarring, I jump out of my skin. My ears ring.No food.Grans happy. The thought cripples me. While Father Aaron could be lying, the idea that Gran’s accepted my disappearance so quickly toys with my fears. What if she thinks I’ve run away? There’s no reason to suspect Father Aaron. Not when she regards him so highly. A true man of God, she’d called him.

Sickness consumes me. Gran doesn’t care that I’m gone. I bet she hasn’t contacted either of my parents to ask if I’m with them. Pushing my hands through my hair, I squeeze my roots until my scalp stings when I pull too hard. I can’t catch my breath from the panic. Now I know why Father Aaron looked smug. It must be a thrill to grind someone down with the truth and watch them crumble.

As night comes, I go to bed and cry myself to sleep. Until tears drench my pillow. Until my head throbs and my nose is stuffy, and I can only breathe through my mouth. Callum listens with his back to me. Though there are times when he glances over his shoulder to watch me silently. And only once, our eyes meet. A few seconds, if that, but it’s enough to see the harsh truth I’m breaking over. He doesn’t say the words out loud, but he doesn’t have to. For once, I’m thankful for his silence. Because I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to know this is the end.

Chapter Nine

Four days pass without food. When Father Aaron said we wouldn’t eat as punishment, I didn’t think it would be like this. As if my insides are being shredded into tiny, brittle pieces. Gran is a lot of things, but she never deprived me of food. Starving me to a point where I’m ready to lose my mind.

Father Aaron hasn’t come once, and while a part of me is glad he isn’t around, the other begs for his return. It’s what he wants, I guess. For us to learn without him we’ll rot in this room and fade into nothing. We need him to survive.

The other being punished is sitting on the floor next to the bed. Arms resting on his bent knees, Callum’s head lies back against the wall. He isn’t awake, having not woken since yesterday afternoon, and I’m getting worried. His face is less swollen from the beating, but he’s pale, and his breaths are shallow. While we haven’t spoken in days, maybe I should try and wake him to make sure he’s okay.

“Callum?” I whisper, voice scratchy from lack of use. No reply. He doesn’t flinch. I repeat his name, louder this time, and my heart leaps when he groans weakly. As I sit up, my body screams in protest for using energy I don’t have. Shifting to the edge of the bed, I nearly collapse when I stand. The room spins, and I grab the bedpost to stop from falling. Squeezing my eyes shut, when it eventually eases, I move over to him.

“Please, God,” I beg, hoping he isn’t dying.

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