Page 18 of His to Keep

Callum’s at his desk, looking over his shoulder at me, but I can’t meet his stare. Not yet. Standing in the middle of the room, I try and process what happened. What other rules will I have to follow, and what if it’s something awful? I’d have no choice but to do as he says for Gran’s sake.

Pushing my hands through my hair, there’s a violent ache in my chest that won’t go away. Anger shoots through me, simmering through my veins. How dare he do this. I hate him. I wish he were dead!

Callum lights a candle as I sit on the bed. All I want is to sleep, but my mind won’t stop. I think back to when I was a girl and how much I adored Gran. The woman she used to be is different from who she is now. I’ve held onto those memories, and now I find myself squeezing on a bit tighter, afraid to let go. No matter what she did and deprived me of, I can’t allow anything bad to happen to her. I must find out what Father Aaron wants from me, and maybe then I can find a way to escape—

“What are you thinking?” Callum’s voice breaks my thoughts. I turn to him, unsure how to answer, only knowing I don’t trust him enough to be honest.

“Nothing.”

His forehead creases. He knows I lied, but I don’t owe him anything. “What did he do?”

I don’t want to tell him. I want it out of my head. “Why are you asking?”

“You look sad,” he says, which surprises me. “Well…more than you usually do.”

I tilt my head. “You notice if I’m sad?”

Clearing his throat, he turns away, maybe embarrassed. I want to tell him he doesn’t have to be, but I decide to leave it. As silence floats between us, I lie down and close my eyes to sleep. As I’m about to drift off, I hear him say, “If your sadness looks that beautiful, then I can’t imagine what happiness looks like.”

My chest tightens. He’s trying to make me feel better, I think, and it’s working a little. “Maybe you will see it one day,” I whisper, clutching the front of my dress where my heart is beating.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Chapter Eleven

Weeks pass. I don’t know how many, and it annoys me. I should be counting and know how long I’ve been locked in this Hell. Most days are blurry moments of staring at the walls and out the window, each day coming with its own problems to battle. But I’m always the one suffering. Heartache, bursts of anger, and pain. That’s the worst—the pain. Reducing me to tears and tormenting me for hours, making me want to scream and yell,I want out! Let me out!

Whatever Father Aaron wants from me, he’s taking his time revealing it, and I’m embarrassed by how twisted my thoughts are becoming. Some days I would do anything to get out of here. Like the days I hate Gran so much, I’m close to telling him to do whatever he wants to her. Because she doesn’t deserve my protection. She believes Father Aaron’s lies and knowsI’ve never left home before. Never lefther. It’s sick.I’msick. Grandpa would be ashamed of me.

Insanity would’ve come and taken me long ago if Callum wasn’t here to distract me. He’s a comfort that confuses me, as it’s not like he’s done anything to make me feel safe. I’m sure he would stop me if there were a chance to escape, which should make him an enemy, yet he doesn’t feel like one.

I know if he wasn’t here, it’d be worse, especially on the days when he speaks to me. It’s not much and never for long, but it’s something I grip onto and spend my day hoping it’ll happen. When he does talk to me, it’s usually late and after I’ve gotten into bed. He’d be drawing or staring at the wall when he’d turn suddenly and ask me the most random of questions.

Like last night, he talked to me, and it was different—the reason why he’s lying beside me right now, asleep as the sun rises outside. His face is peaceful when he sleeps. Lying on his back, his breaths are deep, his raven hair falling messily around his face. It’s the first time I’ve ever laid next to a man, and it’s completely an accident he’s here.

After dinner last night, John took us back upstairs. I used the bathroom first and showered. After washing and drying myself, I put on another dress and brushed my hair and teeth. When I came out, Callum went in to do the same. While he washed, I gazed out of the window—something I find myself doing every evening. As I went to lie on the bed, Callum returned, his hair damp and skin flushed. When he sat, I expected him to sketch, but he turned to me instead. “What’s school like?”

I’d blinked at him like a deer caught in headlights. “You’ve never been?” I regretted my words instantly by the look on his face.Obviously not.

Tucking my hair behind my ears, I tried to think of a way to describe school. I’d never given it much thought before and thinking of it only reminded me of how reclused I was with no friends or experiences to talk about. Yet, for some reason, I wanted to give Callum something. Even if it were an altered version of the truth. “Different than you would think. It’s mostly boring. I don’t have a lot of friends. Just a few.” My face charred when he seemed surprised by this, and I felt guilty for lying.

“Why not?” His question caught me off guard. “I would’ve thought you were popular or something.”

I snorted and felt further ashamed by the noise I made. “No, not popular. And I don’t know. Small town, I guess? Anyway, there are classes for different subjects. My favorites are art and literature. Some teachers are nice, like Miss Nixon. Others, not so much, like grumpy Mr. Jackson who has stale coffee breath.”

He smiled. “Who are your friends?”

Were my friends.

“Melissa, and a couple of other girls,” I said and hated the nervous pang in my stomach. “Though, in the last year or so, we drifted apart.” Not entirely a lie.

“How come?”

“My Gran. She doesn’t want me around boys, and Melissa likes being around them.” I bowed my head, realizing how bad that sounded toward her. “Not inthatway. She’s just way more outgoing than I am with open-minded parents who don’t mind her being friends with boys. Although, there was this new boy. In the last week, before I um…came here, I had to show him around school, and we hung out after church on Sunday.”

“You like him?”

“Oh, no.” I flushed. “I barely know him, and Gran’s strict. Liking boys is out of the question. It’s how girls end up in Hell—” I pursed my lips, not meaning to have told him so much.

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