I refuse to take it. I know it’ll draw his wrath, but what doesn’t these days? Instead, I continue to slowly, and meticulously, make my way toward the sunlight without his help and when I finally reach the top, I tell Cleo to climb up my back and out onto the grass. She does as she’s told because she’s a good girl.
Unlike me.
I’m a defiant, nasty little girl.
That’s what he tells me.
No matter how hard I try, no matter what I say to him, or do to please him, he still manages to find faults in me.
I take a deep breath as I pull myself out of the well and roll onto the grass, breathing heavily, and hoping for the slightest reprieve before he turns into a jackal.
“Did you learn your lesson, Darbs?” he asks, his tone sharp and deadly.
I take a series of ragged breaths and use the last of my strength to push myself to all fours. I have to answer him, and I have to do so soon, or he’ll become angry and there are two targets for his rage now.
“Yes. I’m sorry,” I manage to say.
“Good. Get yourself inside and get cleaned up. Take the kid with you,” he commands.
The sound of the wooden gate slamming shut over the oubliette is a relief. It means that the punishment is over this time and whatever offense he thinks I’ve committed has been forgiven.
This has to end, I tell myself as I get to my feet tiredly and take Cleo’s hand. I smile down at her, wipe the stray tear from her cheek, and lead her back toward the house of horrors that I have to find some way to save my children from.
I’m their only hope and I refuse to let them become engulfed in the darkness that’s so close to swallowing me whole.
The torrent of hot water cascades over my body. My hands are on the shower wall, my head is down, and my eyes are closed. I locked the children in their room before I came into the bathroom because I still don’t trust Dad not to touch them.
It’s been in his eyes more often than not lately, and even though I’m still young enough to give him more children, he gets bored much too quickly with his wives.
I chuckle despite my mood.
We were never his wives. Not even Laura. From what I can remember, the stories that I’ve read in Mom’s diary, Laura was more of a prisoner of his than his wife, and when she bore him three children, he chased her off.
He didn’t care if she left because she wasn’t his blood. She didn’t know what he was going to do to their children, and she only cared about herself.
Thanks, whoever hurt Dad as much as you did.
The thought is sarcastic, bitter, and full of hate for a woman I’ve never known, but I feel that it’s well deserved.
Then my thoughts turn toward my own mother. Did she try? Did she ever think of taking her brothers and running? I don’t know because I never got the chance to know her. I vaguely remember her face, only ever seen when Dad held me and let me peek down into the oubliette.
I raise my head toward the hot water and let it continue to burn my flesh as I think about her. She must have tried because Dad tells me sometimes that I’m like her. Willful, disobedient, and care only about the children instead of him.
Maybe I have more of her inside of me than I do him. Maybe I won’t become a monster too.
Maybe … but the last thing I’ll ever dare to do in this place is hope. I’ll never hope for myself, my children are a different matter. They’ll survive this without having to feel his touch because as long as I’m still alive, as long as I’m still of use to him, he’ll keep his attention on me.
I startle when I hear the bathroom door creak open. I wait for a moment, listening for the sound of one of my children’s voices, but when the silence follows, I wonder if maybe I’m just hearing things.
Of course, that all changes when the bathroom door slides open.
“How long do you plan on standing in there?” comes the gruff question.
“I’m almost done,” I reply quietly as I open my eyes.
Dad’s standing there, looking at me with his arms crossed over his chest, and a look of disdain on his face.
Of all the things that crushes me the most, it’s the feeling of knowing that he’s disappointed with me. With a heavy sigh, I turn away f