Page 29 of Saviour

“Aurora!” He barges through the door, just like I knew he would, and finds me in the corner. “I said, where is your sister?”

“Wh-which one?” I stutter quietly, trying not to give him eye contact.

“Don’t play smart with me, girl.”

But I’m not playing smart. I have no idea who he is looking for. I have four sisters and two brothers. I am the eldest of the girls. I don’t really know how old my other sisters are, though. My two brothers are older and are just as mean as Maxwell.

I ended up in Maxwell’s care when I was too young to remember. I don’t really remember my parents. They had to go somewhere without me and I was put in the care of Maxwell and my new siblings. But I don’t belong here.

“All you’ve done is cause me trouble, girl. Where is your sister?”

I know she’s not my sister. None of them are. I don’t have any sisters. Or brothers. Or parents. I have nobody.

“She’s not my sister.”

The room falls silent and I have never felt fear or regret more than saying those four words.

“How dare you talk about your siblings that way? I suppose if she’s not your sister, then I’m not your dad?”

And even though I know I shouldn’t, I do it anyway. It’s always been in my nature to want to fight back, even though I’m safer when I don’t.

“No.”

He gives me the filthiest glare and I shrink further back into the corner, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.

Maxwell takes another step into the room and closes the door behind him. The soft click of the door shutting into place makes me freeze and I say a silent prayer. Even though I know nothing will save me now.

“If I’m not your dad, Aurora, then there’s plenty I can do with you.”

I cringe at his words and jolt in fear when his hands find my arms, holding me in place.

“How old are you now?” he asks and I hold my breath. I don’t want to tell him.

“Answer me!” he shouts and a lone tear escapes my eye.

“Twelve,” I whisper.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, bringing a hand up to my cheek and wiping away the tear. “Old enough.”

He pushes his body flush against mine and I feel the bulge in his dirty jeans press against my stomach.

I know all about sex and the filth that comes with it from my brothers. They gloat about it around me. How one day it’s going to be me begging for mercy. About how sex isn’t fun for girls, it’s for boys.

Maxwell’s breathing heavy as his hand gropes my body, and I try my hardest to hold my breath and not throw up all over him.

His hand grabs my breast, but there’s not a lot there. I’ve not really grown into my boobs yet, but I’m quite grateful for that after the way the boys talk about them.

Maxwell's hand hurts where he’s grabbing too hard and before I know it, I’m reaching for his wrist, trying to get him off me.

But that only makes him worse. Grabbing my wrists, he forces my arms uncomfortably behind my back and pushes me against them.

“If you move your fucking arms, Aurora, I’ll hurt you even more.”

More tears fall from my eyes and I stare at the dim light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Maxwell’s hand travels lower and breaches my trousers, passing through them and under my knickers. His hand is in a place it shouldn’t be and when a finger slides straight into me, I feel an agonising pain.

“Are you wet, Aurora?” he hums and I bite my lip, trying to hold my emotions in. I don’t want to make this any worse for myself. But I’m not wet. The boys spoke about how girls get wet when they're enjoying it. I am not enjoying this!

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