Making her do farm chores in the snow, wearing nothing more than jeans and a light shirt.
Locking her in the attic on sweltering summer days.
Refusing to let her sleep as she ran laps around the yard in the middle of the night.
Forcing her to stand for hours in the rain.
Caning her for any infraction or act of disobedience.
And all of that was just the lighter end of the spectrum of abuse and torture she’d suffered at the hands of her brother, starting when she was just four and ending only when she left at eighteen.
According to Ridge, it all built character, strengthened her, toughened her up, but in reality, she knew he just loved it when his torturous games caught up with her
These men could talk about making her crack all they wanted, but if she hadn't broken at four, she wasn't going to break now with almost twenty years of experience under her belt.
Sucks to be you, Mr. Bedroom Man.
As though he could somehow read her mind, the overbearing heat suddenly seemed to drain out of the room. For a moment, Rose thought she was getting a reprieve. She had no idea how long she’d been there, because she was unconscious when they took her from her bed, and when they brought her into this cell. There were no windows, and no way for her to judge the passing of time. But she did know that she hadn't been given anythingto eat or drink, and there was no way in hell that the heat they’d been pumping into the room hadn't badly dehydrated her.
Whatever short-lived reprieve she got was quickly wiped away as Rose realized what her captors were doing.
They weren't just turning the temperature inside her cell down, they were trying to shock her system into a meltdown by going the other way.
Freezing air began to fill her cell, and she got maybe a handful of minutes to enjoy no longer feeling like she was being boiled alive before her body shook as the cold seeped inside her.
With another laugh, she stood proudly, looking directly at the camera, refusing to cower in shame at being naked before them. These men wanted to break her, she was in a fight for her life, and there was no time or energy to be wasted on modesty.
“Hot then cold?” she asked, hoping that the camera picked up sound. “That’s the best you’ve got? It’s going to take a whole lot more than that to break me, Mr. Bedroom Man, and however many friends you have with you.”
Rolling her eyes, although she wasn't sure that would be picked up by the camera, Rose reached for her discarded pajamas and slipped them on, then she sat back down.
Her body was already protesting the hard concrete, but it and her clothing had been warmed by the heat, and for the next little while, they helped to keep the worst of the cold at bay.
Still, if it came down to it, she’d pick cold over heat any day.
Heat reminded her of the explosion.
Memories of that day were hazy at best. She’d been only four years old, but she remembered that for once they were having a huge feast. It was Christmas Day, and while she hadn't been given any presents like most other little girls across the globe would have been, she’d been excited about the piles of food covering the kitchen counters.
When her mother had set a plate stacked with more food than she’d ever been given before in her little life, she’d actually giggled. Something that was usually frowned upon, but that day her mother had merely given her an indulgent smile and ruffled her red locks.
No sooner had Rose taken that first bite than the loudest sound she’d ever heard, and a wall of heat encompassed the room.
She would have sworn someone shoved her onto the ground a second before it happened, but maybe she was remembering things wrong. All she knew was that the next thing she could recall, she was under the table, and the broken remains of the cabin lay in piles around her.
Of the eight people in that cabin on the day of the explosion, only she and her brother survived.
With no one else to take her in, Ridge had no choice but to take on responsibility for her. Raising her as he continued with whatever crazy plans he and their parents had cooked up. There had been no more Christmas Day feasts after that, no more anything that wasn't hours of grueling schoolwork and farm work, and one torturous punishment after another.
Was it any wonder she now loathed Christmas?
Even more so now that she had once again had her life blown up on the holiday that was supposed to be about love, joy, and peace.
Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, although Rose didn't make a sound or any move to stop them. She wasn't crying for her situation now, but for the little girl who had died that day even though she continued to breathe.
Chapter
Four
