Page 32 of Among the Sins of my Father

He chuckles. “We’ll only be gone a day or two and it’s just for now. When I get back, let’s plan an escape, just for the two of us. Away from all this.”

“Promise?” I know I sound like the little girl who stopped crying when offered an ice-cream, but the thought of just Jericho and I together is an offer too tempting to resist. So I sink back into the sofa, determined to be content with my place in the current situation.

“Promise.” He winks before he walks out the door.

I hate this person I’ve become. This whining, pleading, pathetic person but I don’t know how to escape it without losing him. I’m trapped by my own desire.

I sneak down and steal some breakfast long after everyone else has eaten theirs. I skip lunch and instead, wander around the gardens, not caring about the gentle rain which settles on my hair and my clothing without ever sinking in. I feed the swans, taking with me leftover vegetables from the kitchen. They squawk and honk, one of them daring to come close enough to take some food right out of my hand.

“Jericho said we’re not supposed to feed the swans,” Ette says, and I turn to find her hand in hand with Hope, strolling along the edge of the pond. Hope holds a basket, resting it on her hip.

“We’re going to have a picnic inside the gazebo. Do you want to join us?” Ette asks.

There’s a smile on Hope’s face but it falters when she looks at me, so I shake my head. “I better go get ready for our lesson later. You two have fun though, okay?” I gather the last of the swan food in my hand. “Here, you take this.” I place it on top of the basket. “Just don’t tell Jericho, okay?”

Ette laughs. I wonder if she noticed that Hope and I haven’t said a word to each other. If she feels the tension that ripples between us. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to be someone I’m not.

I offer Hope a small smile as I turn away, but she doesn’t look at me. She keeps her gaze fixed on Ette. I thought things might have become a little easier between us since she broke down outside my father’s cell, but it’s as though it never happened.

My afternoon drags by as though someone has put the world in slow motion. I keep to myself during dinner, only talking when someone asks me a question, and then I rush up to my room, eager not to feel the heat of Hope’s glare. It’s gotten to the point that I don’t know if I’m reading into things, or if she really does despise me. I try to imagine what it would be like for her, to finally be set free and return to a home that has been built for her, only to find another woman in her place. But I’m not willing to let go of what I’ve got. Not yet at least. For now, I’ll bide my time and wait for Jericho to return so he can remind me that I belong to him and he belongs to me.

Sleeping alone brings back nightmares and I wake, covered in a cold sweat and shivering. Only this time, I don’t remember my dream. It’s just the dread of it that lingers. I wish I could creep upstairs and crawl into Jericho’s bed. The scent of him alone would bring me comfort. Instead, I bury myself further under the covers as the house creaks and groans, trying to ignore the thudding of my heart.

But the thudding of my heart is joined by other noises, footsteps and voices muffled through the walls. Despite the fear that settles in my chest, I get out of bed, careful to step quietly and open the door. The hallway is clear. I tread lightly on the stairs, avoiding the steps I know that complain under pressure and open the door to Ette’s room. She’s sleeping soundly, not disturbed by any of the noises. Further down from her room is Hope’s. The door is open. There’s a light on but as I approach, I hear the heavy breaths of her sleeping. Maybe the guards were simply talking to each other. Maybe it’s early enough that Alma has got up to prepare the food for the day.

My bed is cold when I slip back under the covers. My door is shut, and the covers are pulled tight to my chin, but I keep my ears above them, straining to hear any more noises. Maybe I imagined them. Maybe I am still dreaming.

I lie awake until exhaustion overtakes. I dream of Michael. Well, not actually of him, but his presence is a major part of the reason I’m on my knees begging for Jericho’s forgiveness. Because, in my dream, I did something to make him stop loving me and it involved Michael. Whether it was a kiss, or something more intimate, I’m not sure. All I know is the feeling of desperation as I plead, looking up at Jericho as he scowls. His face is blurred by my tears. And the feeling of having done something I can’t take back is unbearable, even if it is just a dream.

I don’t know whether it is that feeling which wakes me, or subconsciously I hear something, but suddenly I find myself awake, heart pounding and eyes wide.

The house is silent. Oddly silent. Instead of the usual sighs and moans of the building settling at the night, there is nothing. My heartbeat is loud in my head, as though it’s beating on the outside. There’s no splatter of rain. No howling of the wind.

Then a hand clamps over my mouth and I’m dragged from the bed. I don’t have time to react before a gag is shoved in my mouth, and strips of material are tied around both my eyes and my mouth. Then my hands are twisted behind my back and secured by a zip tie. By the time I try to fight back, it’s too late. I’m bound.

The sound of my heart is now deafening.

I’m grabbed by the crook of my arms and dragged across the floor. I try to cry out, make some sort of noise but with the gag in my mouth and completely blind, I don’t manage anything more than a scuffle of my feet on the floor.

Panic hits as they pull me down the stairs, at times lifting me off the ground to keep me from falling. I try to lash out and kick against something, but my flailing proves pointless. Whoever has me moves with military precision through the Sanctuary. They don’t talk. They don’t hesitate. They drag me while ignoring my failed attempts to alert someone.

It’s hard to breathe with the material they’ve shoved into my mouth. It scrapes against the back of my throat and I start to gag. I twist and turn, trying to free myself from their grip, but they just hold on tighter, to the point of pain. I’m not sure where in the Sanctuary we are when I’m shoved against a wall and the blindfold is ripped from my eyes.

Someone has their arm pressed across my collarbone. A face, covered by a balaclava, is only inches from mine.

“I’m going to free your hands. Do not fight back. Do not resist. If you do there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

I nod, knowing there’s little else I can do. I’m turned around and my cheek is shoved against the cold wall as someone presses against my back and runs a knife through the plastic of the zip tie, freeing my hands. My immediate gesture is to rub my wrists. They hurt from where the plastic cut into me.

I’m in the hallway of the basement. The door to my father’s cell is just in front of me. My heart drops. I know why they’re here and what they want.

“Enter the code,” comes the command.

I don’t hesitate. What would be the point? Three men surround me, all dressed in black, all with their faces covered, all armed.

My hands shake as I key in the code. I see the look of relief on my father’s face as one of the men enter his cell, and then the blindfold is shoved back on and my hands are twisted and tied behind my back again.

“About time you came,” my father says. But he’s the only one of them that talks.

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