I’m still pissed at my brother. What he did was a betrayal—but to risk this? Why would he do this?
Carter echoes my thoughts.
“He is going to get himself killed.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE HEATHEN
Sister Agatha comes and pulls me away from the group.
“Father Desjardins wants to see you.”
I follow her down the hallway past the religious statues of Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and of course Saint Dymphna, the patron saint of those suffering from mental illness, nervous disorders, and anxiety. I don’t blame her, but this place using her name must be a spiritual crime. It’s all a joke. Since I’ve been here, I’ve heard repeatedly about what a wicked girl I am. Not because of what I’ve been through, but because there are ‘demons inside me.’ It only furthers my thought that religious people are nuts. I’m sure there are good ones in the world, but I have yet to meet one.
She puts her hand on my back and pushes me hard into his office. I stumble before catching myself, my annoyance for this woman growing by the second. The priest sits at his desk, white hair, a scar over his left eye making him appear even more menacing. Bushy eyebrows match the color of his hair. The way his lips quirk up in a wicked grin signals excitement for whatever is about to happen, causes nerves to bubble up in my stomach. Rising from the chair behind his desk he walks around it towardme. A shiver runs down my back when his eyes travel the length of my body before his stony expression returns to mine. I ball my hands into fists, reacting to the anger bristling from him.
“We have rules here. I’m told you are refusing to kneel for your Lord. Is this true?”
I dig my nails into my skin, needing the sting to calm my racing mind and answer him.
“I am.”
I have willingly knelt for two men.
Knox and Carter.
The only men to make me feel safe, cherished, and loved. No one else has earned my submission, including their false god.
My chest burns with thoughts of them, anguish threatening to swallow me whole. I push the image of them both out of my mind. I will not bend. I will not break.
Stay strong, Little Heathen.
I smile as Carter’s voice echoes in my mind, offering me strength when he’s not even here.
I’ll never see them again. Unless I get out of here. It’s my one hope, but it’s not a realistic one. We are always being watched. My mind goes back to Wellard Asylum and the day Raven got us out. If only he were here.
“You’re a wicked girl. We cannot have you among the others. Inappropriate behavior in a facility like this spreads like fire, until it’s uncontrollable. It will not be tolerated. The good news is we have a way to fix your conduct.”
He grabs a paddle from his bookshelf, but it’s not any paddle—it’s my father's.
I tremble as the air escapes from my lungs, and once again, I’m the little girl I’ve always been.
Weak.
Broken.
Destroyed.
On her knees, ready for the punishment that’s coming.
I hang my head down as he moves behind me and strikes the paddle against my back, first a sting, until the burn takes over, my flesh raw and inflamed. I hiss through clenched teeth, not allowing myself to give them the reaction they want.
Tears.
Forcing myself to disassociate, I think of my men.
“Tesoro, such a beautiful, perfect girl.”
