Page 66 of Among the Sins of my Father

I don’t know how I manage to stand but I do.

Michael grabs my chin, turning my face to his. I leave my gaze unfocused, staring through him

“What the fuck did you do to her!” he roars.

The guard is quiet, no doubt contemplating what to say. “It wasn’t me.”

“Well, who was it then!”

“Her father,” the guard replies. At least he’s honest.

Michael bends and scoops me into his arms. He strides past the guards, past his father, past his mother and Mary, who have come down to see what all the commotion is, and carries me up the stairs and back into his room. The place I started. He lowers me to the bed.

“What happened?” There’s concern in his tone, but I don’t care. I lie down and roll over, placing my back to him.

“Tell me what happened,” he demands.

“The monster came,” is all I manage to say. But it doesn’t sound like me. It’s the voice of someone broken. Someone defeated.

Michael flicks the light on, and I bury myself under the covers, unable to stand the brightness. There’s movement as he undresses then he climbs in behind me and cradles me close. I gasp when he presses against my side, the pain of the punch my father inflicted sharp and intense.

He jerks away as though I burned him and pulls back the covers. Peeling up my shirt, he gingerly runs his finger over the red welt which is growing darker by the second. Then he cups my face, turning it toward him, a frown pressing between his brows as he examines my wounds.

“He did this?” he whispers.

I nod, not caring when the tears fall.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” He moves to lift off the bed but a sudden need to not be alone overwhelms me.

“Please stay,” I beg, my fingers digging into his arm.

His eyes travel slowly from my face to where I’m gripping onto him in desperation and then he sighs, crawls back into bed, and pulls the covers back over us. Even though I hate him, I don’t want to be alone.

“What did you do?”

Of course he assumes I deserved it, that I did something to earn the wrath of my father.

I let out a cold laugh, even though it hurts. “I was born.”

His body feels warm next to mine. I huddle closer. I don’t care if he is the enemy. Right now, he’s all I’ve got.

We lay in silence.

Visions of my life to come stretch out through my mind. Me by Michael’s side, a fake smile on my face, my body stooped with sadness. A life of wealth and riches. A life built on the misery of others.

“I don’t want to do this, Michael. I don’t want to be here.”

“Shh,” he says, tightening his grip and ignoring the way I wince in pain. “You’re in shock. You’re hurt. You don’t mean what you say.”

I roll over to face him. “Yes, I do. I don’t love you. I never will.” I don’t care what reaction my words could bring.

“You’ve got no choice,” he whispers in my ear. “You’re mine.”

You’re mine.

Formed by the lips of someone I love those words brought me joy. Spat from the mouth of someone I loathe they bring nothing but fear.

“One day you will love me, Everly. And even if you don’t, you will still worship me. You will learn to fall at my feet. You will learn to beg me for affection. The alternative is only pain.”

---