“That’s not gonna happen.”
Yes it was. I struggled to get away. He couldn’t do this. All my suffering and silence would be for nothing if he confronted my father.
“You don’t know him.” Daddy was capable of horrible things.
“He’s gonna die, Freckles.” He fisted my hair and yanked my head back. “You need to make your peace with that.”
My entire body shook as I stared up into Mason’s hard stare. “But… he’s my dad.”
The same man who kissed my forehead when I was sick and tucked me in at night. When I fell and hurt myself it was him I ran to. I called out his name when I had a nightmare, and held his hand when I was scared. The first hint of warmth I ever felt came from him. He was my father. My first love.
“No, he isn’t,” Mason growled. “He stopped being your dad the second he beat you.”
“You hurt me,” I snarled back. “You hurt me all the time.”
“That’s right I fucking do, and I’m not gonna stop. You like it when I hurt you.” He leaned in, bringing his lips a breath away from mine. “I bet your pussy’s soaked right now.”
So what if he was right? It didn’t mean anything. It was his fault I reacted this way. He’s the one that turned my body against me.
“Admit it, you like it when I tell you what to do.”
No. Screw him. The only thing I would admit to was how much I wanted to slap that smug grin off his face.
“Fuck you, Mason.”
“Careful Freckles,” he tsked. “You’re in danger of becoming a potty mouth.”
I lost it. I lunged forward, forgetting that my hair was in his grip, and tried to claw his face. The chuckle Mason let out when he yanked me back only spurred me on.
“I hate you,” I yelled while kicking at him.
Not even the ache traveling up my foot from the solidness of his shin could stop me. Somewhere in the back of my mind flashed the brief thought that I shouldn’t be doing this, but I couldn’t stop lashing out. It was like all the anger I’d been suppressing all those years broke through the dam I tucked them behind. Rage poured out of me like a fountain. I smacked him in the face, bit his arm, and stomped on his feet. None of which phased him.
Mason didn’t so much as flinch when I struck him. He continued yanking on my hair and glaring down at me as if I was nothing more than a nuisance. He didn’t even cock a brow when my arms finally fell down, exhausted.
“You done?”
And just like that, I found my second wind.
Fat drops burned in my eyes as I screamed my hatred and swung my hand.
“I hate you.”Smack.“And your stupid smile.”Slap.“You ruined everything.”
Except it wasn’t Mason that ruined things.
I collapsed down on the ground, out of breath.
It was me.
The way Mason petted the back of my head was a stark contrast to the tone in his growl. “Throw another tantrum like that and I’ll show you just how much I can stretch all of your holes.”
My glare locked on his and the words slipped out before I could stop them. “You’re no better than him.”
Instead of punishing me – like I thought he would – Mason picked me up, gently placed me on the bed, and strolled over to the door.
“When you’re ready to stop acting like a child and have an adult conversation, I’ll be back.” He paused with the door open and glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, and Freckles, don’t ever compare me to that piece of shit again.”
After that, Mason left, locking the door behind him.
