“Yes, sir.” I step into the elevator. “I have to—”
He hangs up before I can say goodbye.
I don’t hate him, but I should. Without his guidance and financial support, I’m not sure where I’d be. He pays for college, bought me a car, and provides me a place to live. After retiring from the military, he purchased a few properties and became a landlord. I reside in a nice condo, rent- free, but I am responsible for paying utilities. Of course, he has a key and pops up unannounced, though he hasn’t in a while.
He raised me with morals. Parties, revealing clothing, and boys were prohibited. In seventh grade, I had a crush on a classmate. I was ecstatic to learn he shared my affection. Unfortunately, we could only talk during school hours. One day, we were caught exchanging notes by the teacher. My plea for her not to call my father fell on deaf ears. I spent the remainder of the day in fear of what would happen once I got home. It was worse than I imagined.
Before stepping fully inside the house, I was slapped across the face with a hard object, sending me sprawling to the floor and causing my head to spin.
While cowering at my father’s feet, I noticed he was holding a Bible. The Good Book had been used to deliver the blow.
“Harlot! You’re a shameless whore, just like your mother!” he roared.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy.”
“To keep you from temptation, you will be homeschooled, starting immediately.”
“Please, no. It won’t happen again.”
“Now I will show you the repercussions of straying from the path of righteousness,” he said, removing his belt.
I curled into a fetal position as he began to deliver stinging hits in quick succession all over my body. I screamed in agony, begging him to stop.
Eventually, he tired from the exertion and dragged my battered body inside the hall closet. He walked away, then reappeared with the Bible and a flashlight.
“You will stay locked in here for the entire weekend,” he said, handing me both. “It must be done to save your soul from damnation. You will not be given food or water. Your only source of nourishment will be the word of God. Knock on the door if you need to use the bathroom.”
“No, Daddy! Please!”
“Silence!” he bellowed, closing the door with a definitive click.
After that incident, I was required to recite Bible verses in the morning and before bedtime. Throughout the years, Dad regaled me with stories about my mother’s supposed infidelities, saying she met her demise as punishment for her transgressions. My father prevented me from traversing the wrong path on numerous occasions. Because of him, I’m a good Christian woman and remain a virgin. Still, I’m constantly fighting to keep the unnatural hunger in me at bay. I crave his approval, but it seems I can’t do anything right in his eyes. I’m going to try really hard to make him proud of me.
“Are you coming out?” a man asks.
“Sorry, I don’t know where my mind is.” I smile, stepping out of the elevator.
“Hey, it happens to us all, especially on Monday mornings.” He walks into the elevator. “Have a good day.”
“You too.” I exit the building, then walk across the parking lot to my car.
“Are you even listing to me?” Jensen asks.
I glance up from studying last quarter’s earnings on the computer screen to glare at my big brother. “No.”
He came barging into my office less than five minutes after I arrived and planted his ass in the plush leather chair in front of my desk.
“Sarah and I really want you to come over for dinner. It’s been ages.”
Jensen and Sarah met in college, and the rest is history. They’re now at child number four. Three girls and a boy. They’re probably done creating offspring since Jensen finally has the son he’s coveted.
“You sure that’s the best idea? Oliver screamed his head off the last time.”
“Come on. That was nearly two years ago, and he was just a toddler. He would’ve gotten used to your appearance if you came around more.”
My nephew had good reason to fear me. I sustained fourth-degree burns on the right side of my face from my temple to my neck. I’m so fucking grotesque, I can’t stand to look at my own reflection. Mirrors are strictly prohibited in my residence.
I’ll never forget the pain of my skin melting from the flames. Fortunately, I was able to undo my seat belt and drag myself from the wreckage. At that point, adrenaline kicked in and the pain was minimized. I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. I suffered a punctured liver, fractured leg, and several broken ribs. Sheet grafts were used to cover the burns, but the damage was too severe to help much. The pilot and Taylor died instantly. Phoebe was placed in a medically induced coma but later succumbed to her injuries.
