I walk fast to catch up with him. He doesn’t say anything until we stop in front of a light wooden door, and he asks, “Did he give you your key?” I reach in, pulling it out of my pocket before shoving it into his chest, pausing for a moment to take in his features. The longer wispy pieces of his dark hair fall in his face, which looks like it has been chiseled out of stone. His eyes are encased by thick lashes. He grabs the key from my hand and slides it into the lock; the door creaks open, revealing a room litup by the sun shining through the pale curtains. His body turns. “After you.”
I walk into the room before spinning back to see him standing just inside the doorway.
He leans against the frame with his arms crossed, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, yet his eyes follow my movements, causing prickles to form on my arms. I roll my eyes before closing them and resting my back against the tall dresser.
I relax my shoulders before I reopen them and take in the room. It’s grubby and austere, practically a prison cell pretending to be a bedroom. I look over at Zedediah. “Charming,” I mutter. “What, no bars on the windows?”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Bars wouldn’t make a difference. You’re not going anywhere. Honestly, you should just be thankful he gave you a door.”
My irritation flares and I push off the dresser in his direction.“Oh right, sorry, I should be so grateful.”
I dramatically drop to my knees, press my hands together and bow my head. “Thank you, Father Fenris, for your generosity. What a blessing.” I lift my head, only to see he’s pushed off the frame. Every muscle in his face is locked tight, except for his jaw that is currently grinding.Oh, he is seething.A smile creeps across my face before I continue, wondering just how far I can go. “And thank you, Brother Zedediah, for delivering me straight to my own personal hell.”
He’s calm when he turns away, softly shutting the door before walking over to me. He looks down at me, and I realize what a mistake this was, his face is telling me more than words ever could. He crouches down, getting on my level. “Now, what have I told you about that mouth of yours?”
I lift my chin higher in defiance. “Aw, what about it? Gonna run and tell your daddy?” His fists curl, and before I can doanything, he hauls me up and slams me into the wall. The impact knocks all the air out of me, and pain rips through my spine.
“You can scream in here if you want. Sound doesn’t really carry in this wing.” I blink, trying to clear the burn from behind my eyes when he pats me on the head. “I made the bed myself, try not to mess it up. Unless…” He winks at me. “It’s the kind of mess you need help making.”
He goes to walk out the door, and I can barely hear what he says. “You’re going to make this harder than it needs to be. On the both of us.” He inhales a deep breath, his voice rising to a normal level. “Oh, and you can lock the door if it makes you feel safer.” He leaves without another word, closing the door with a soft click. I walk to the bed and plop down, an exhausted sigh leaves my lips.Harder on the both of us.What does that even mean?
I wish I hadn’t let them take my bags, but I’m seeing now that I probably had less of a choice than I thought. I stare at the dusty ceiling with the weight of the day lying on my chest and close my eyes, allowing my mind to replay the day—a movie I can’t turn off.
I hear Dad’s voice and taste the blood in my mouth from biting my tongue so hard.“Maybe someone like him can fix whatever’s wrong with you.You’re not the daughter we raised.”
I yell back at him, “And you’re not the dad who raised me!” I struggle through tears. “He would hate to know you.” The knock on the door cuts through the silence that lingers between us. The driver of the van stands in the doorway.
“You’ll have to be firm with her. She’s always had a problem with authority.” I flinch as the man wraps his hands around my arm.
I hear my dad laugh. “Told you she’s dramatic. Tell him to do what we couldn’t. Beat it out of her if he has to.”
I tore away from him and ran.Just get to the trees. Get to the tree line and disappear. Get there before he gets you.My poor attempt was just that, an attempt. Fenris’ minion caught me, threw me in the van, and threatened to hog-tie me. I watched as Dad ushered Mom inside without a word.
The look of disapproval on their faces wasn’t about the dirt on my face or the force being used on me. It was because I had the audacity to question authority, like always. I watched Dad shut the door and the reality settled in. Their love was a leash, and I had finally chewed through it.
Somewhere between the porch and main road I decided that if it was that easy for them to cut me out of their world, I could carve them out of mine. They stopped existing the moment I stopped needing them.
Chapter Five
Catarina
My mind won’t stop dissecting the last twenty-four hours. I pull back the layers from each moment trying to find something to help me figure out how the hell I’m supposed to get out of here. Fenris attended a week-long revival at Crossroads, but beyond that, he’s a stranger. They had to know him, though. You don’t just meet someone and then within a month hand over your daughter to them with as little as a “thanks for taking her off our hands,” right?
I can still smell Fenris’ soured breath. I barely had enough space to breathe when we were in his office. I wanted to keep my distance, but I couldn’t, not with his hands all over me. His fingers trailed down my arm before wrapping around my wrist and pulling me down beside him on the couch. His eyes never left mine, and there was a hunger behind them that made my skin crawl. I felt his hand make its way to my knee, and I couldn’t move.
“You are a beautiful young woman, Catarina.”His fingers drew circles along my thigh as he stretched out the syllables inmy name.“God doesn’t give gifts without expecting them to be of use, and you could be of great use. For him. For me.”
My words were slow and mocking.“You know what else will be of great use?”I jerked away from him, standing.“My anger.”He matched my movement and stood, taking a step into me.
“Are you trying to test me?”His voice was controlled but it didn’t hide the fury in his tone.“You aren’t in control here. Don’t make me show you how quickly everything can be taken from you.”I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but unfortunately for him, there isn’t anything left for him to take away from me.
My alarm blares and I reach over and turn it off with a hard slap. I roll out of bed, grabbing my toiletry bag out of my suitcase, and head for the bathroom. They dropped my things off before curfew last night, and I didn’t bother unpacking.
My fingers flips the switch, turning the low light on, the exhaust fan humming above. The sound is drowned out once I start the shower. I place my shampoo, conditioner, and body wash on the lone shelf while I wait for the water to heat up before stepping in. I stop mid-wash when the pear scent of my shampoo reminds me of Mom. Our hair is thick and tends to get oily fast. This is the only shampoo I’ve ever found that got me out of using dry shampoo somewhere throughout the day. Tears sting at my eyes and I force them shut, squeezing them as hard as I can, forcing the tears to go anywhere other than down my cheeks. I finish showering, step out, and get ready for morning chapel service.
I was happy when I didn’t see Fenris during the sermon, and when I scanned the sanctuary for Zedediah, he wasn’t there either. The giant man I saw yesterday when I left Fenris’ office was the speaker this morning. Harold. It was uneventful. He gave a brief introduction, and I was just thankful I wasn’t made to stand in front of everyone in some uncomfortable “Welcome to The Collective” spectacle.
I make my way down the hall and spot the lady who approached me after chapel. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and the sleeves of her black long-sleeve top are rolled up to her elbows as she mops. The microfiber strands drag across the floor in slow, even strokes. She didn’t seem interested in introducing herself, and honestly, I didn’t care enough to ask. I look down at the crumpled piece of paper she handed me, re-reading the list of duties scribbled on it. Breakfast preparation, laundry pickup and drop-off. It’s simple enough, I guess. The smell of stale bread and over-brewed coffee hangs in the air of the dining room as I move around setting up the pots and pans. As I work through my tasks, I rack my brain trying to find a way I can make this place feel like anything other than a punishment.
