“Lie back in the water; let’s wash your hair.” Wynter guided me down, water washingover my body. I blinked my eyes, enabling tears to creep down my face. She whispered something else, but the bathwater bobbing against my ears prevented me from hearing.
But the smile on her face still spoke to me, still brought me peace.
An hour had passed. Enough time to ensure I was clean of the grime from my previous environment.
I followed Nessie into the kitchen; she’d waited with me while I dressed in the clothes Wynter had placed upon my new bed—clothes that belonged to her and hugged my curves too tightly, causing a new feeling of discomfort against the bruises on my body.
The green sweatsuit made sitting uncomfortable, the material thinning as it stretched over my wider hips.
The lights throughout the house were dimly lit, the dimmer not dared to be messed with during dinner. This family liked the dark. I’d have wondered why—wondered what they were hiding in it, and if there was something evil lurking in the shadows—if evil actually lurked in the shadows. It didn’t. Evil walked proudly amongst the millions of people out enjoying the brightest of summer days—exactly like it did the day I was taken.
My hair was damp, but my tight curls were barely stretched out. I took a seat at the dining table, sitting between an empty chair and a chair occupied by Ville.
The children of the house, Woodrow and Nessie, sat opposite me, with totally different expressions housed on their faces.
I directed my gaze away from their watchful stares, to the platters of food clustered in the center of the table, comfortably sat upon a dark checkered tablecloth. Pizzas. Pastries. Pasta. Little smokies. Delicacies of all kinds sat proudly, awaiting our selection.
I didn’t want to eat, but the food taunted me, seducing my senses, and hypnotizing me further into hunger. I had no idea how long it had been since I’d last eaten anything edible. And I didn’t bother much with the inedible, bland breakfast foods that had been offered to me whenever I was deemed well-behaved enough to eat.
I waited for Wynter, waited for her to stop faffing about in the distance and join us at the table, just like everyone else did.
Seconds moved slowly, and then she joined us, taking her seat.
Everyone’s head dropped, everyone’s but mine. . . and Woodrow’s. Again, he was acting as if he couldn’t angle his neck, which had me focusing on his appearance.
His hair was dark, his lips full—curved with the perfect bow. A small dot was stamped on the right side of his philtrum, a mark to emphasize his beauty. His skin, so light, like his pretty eyes. I was mesmerized, as he closed them, dark lashes fluttering down his cheeks as he shut out the image of the room in a way of respect.
My eyes trailed down, over his strong jaw, to his throat, which had a permanent swelling, pushing out his large Adam’s apple, making it look like an actual apple was stuck there.
Fingers brushed my arm, distracting me as I took him in. Wynter’s arm was stretched across the table. The touch startled me—all touches did these days.
“Lower your head, sweetie.” Wynter’s words were quiet but commanded my obedience. “We have to say our prayers before dinner. We have to thank God for our blessings.”
I simply nodded, not knowing what to say, as I hadn’t grown up around a religion. I looked down after one last quick glance to the boy opposite, who was shaking as much as me. He was nervous. I felt it. I felt his animosity rivalling mine from across the table.
“Dear Lord, Our Heavenly Majesty, we thank you for this meal, for blessing us with our lives. And for allowing us to enjoy what so many take for granted—family time. . .” Ville’s words made me wince, slicing through me like a carving knife, cutting through my most vital organ—my heart.
“We pray for many more days like this; shared, enjoyed, blessed. We thank you for the life you gave us and will honor you by living as you intended, by giving in to the things that bring us joy. Amen.”
My lashes fluttered as I tried to understand his odd choice of wording as he reached the end of his blessing.
“Amen. . .” the word echoed around the room, floundering in the darkness.
“Can we eat now?” Nessie quizzed, eyeing up a certain slice of pepperoni pizza, her little handsfidgeting, desperate to clutch her desired piece.
“Of course, dig in.” Wynter smiled at her, then at me. Then her husband. Her smile was different when it landed on him; it spoke a language I didn’t understand. Maybe, it was love.
Maybe, it was something else.
I glanced back across the distance, over the food as the quantity on the plates decreased, claimed by the hungry family. I hadn’t picked anything yet, and neither had he. Woodrow. His eyes were locked on me; a sad expression lurking behind a light sheen of tears. He hadn’t even glanced down at the spread made in honor of his birthday.
“After you.” He smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes or round his cheeks.
He moved his hand to his throat as his words pained him. My eyes followed, moving back to the obstruction behind his skin. To something large and uncomfortable.
“Please, don’t stare at me.” His voice, even with the request, wasn’t stern. He sounded like he was intentionally altering his tone, making himself sound almost childlike. But his words still held a warning. Telling me I was causing offense.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized instantly.
