Finally, he released me and stood, each step echoing like a gunshot as he moved toward the door. When I heard it close, my entire body sagged, the air easier to breathe without him in the room.
But his presence seemed to linger, my mind reeling.
Family dinner? What was that all about? With who? And why did it sound less like a meal and more like some twisted ritual?
I brought my hand up to the wall and tapped lightly at it.
“Sarah?” I said loud enough for her to hopefully hear but still trying to keep my voice low. “Are you there?” I tapped the wall once more.
“I’m here,” she responded softly. “I assume you've heard the news? Family dinner night.”
“What is that?”
“A mindfuck is what it is,” she bit out.
“How so?”
“Josiah. He’ll?—”
“Josiah? Who’s that?”
“Father. He’ll make you think everything’s normal. He’ll smile. Ask questions. Make you think he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. Everyone will sit around the table pretending we’re one big happy family. In reality, it’s a test. He’s looking for anything to use against you later. From the way you sit, the things you say, the food you eat, the amount you eat, the way you look at people, the way you don’t look at people. If he thinks you’re lying, if he thinks you’re being disrespectful, if he thinks you’re ungrateful…” She trailed off, but she didn’t need to finish.
I already knew what would happen.
More correction.
I doubted I’d get off as easily as a belt against my ass. I sensed that was just a tiny peek into what other forms of correction he was capable of.
“Any advice?”
“Just…be careful. If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I pushed out a sigh, a ball of dread forming in my stomach. But I swallowed it down.
“Sure thing. See you soon.”
“See you,” I responded as I slowly pushed myself to stand.
Every inch of my body ached, not only from the beating Josiah had given me but also from sleeping on the floor. I walked toward the bathroom, stopping when I looked down and saw the chain had been removed from my ankle at some point.
Thank God for small miracles, I supposed.
I briefly considered trying to escape. Was the door locked? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t remember hearing the click of a lock when Josiah left. I had a feeling this was yet another test.
As much as I wanted to make a run for it, I had no idea what was outside that door. I needed to be smart about this. It was the only way I’d have a chance at surviving.
Instead, I slipped into the bathroom and turned on the bath, thinking it would be better than a shower right now.
As I carefully slipped out of the nightgown, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I almost didn’t want to look, scared of the sight that would greet me. But I needed to see. When I was married to Victor, I’d avoided looking in the mirror. I refused to let anyone have that kind of power over me now.
I drew in a deep breath and lifted my head, the image staring back at me stealing the breath from my lungs.
Bruises painted my cheek and jaw in shades of purple and yellow, my eye swollen. My hair hung tangled around my shoulders, droplets of dried blood caked by my lip. But none of that held my attention. It was the angry red symbol branded into my chest, the edges puffy and raw.
Over the past several weeks, the scars Victor had carved into me had faded. In time, most would be nothing but a distant memory.
But this?
