“Oh.” Anxiety at being this close to him corsets my torso, making breathing difficult. “I didn’t see you there.”
He doesn’t reply, but grabs my elbow roughly and herds me down the hall toward our bedroom. I’m tripping over my feet, trying to keep up. As soon as we’re in the room, he closes the door.
“So this visit was a sore spot for you, huh?” he asks. “I’ll give you a sore spot.”
“Caleb, I—”
The back of Caleb’s huge hand slaps the words from my mouth. I touch my lips, the sight of blood on my fingers transfixing me for only a second before I spring into action. I take off for the bathroom, but only make it a few steps before Caleb’s arm, ungiving bone, tight sinew, and hardened muscle, hooks around my waist from behind, hauling me off my feet. He flings me to the bed so hard I almost bounce off. I sit up, determined to make it to safety, but his fist slams into my face. My teeth rattle, and agony blossoms over my jaw and cheekbone.
Now I understand why he didn’t hit me last night. He knew Ms. Darling was coming and saved all this rage for after she left. His violence is not uncontrolled. It’s a thing of cold calculation, which in some ways makes it even more dangerous.
“Caleb, please,” I manage to say, though I can barely get the words past my swelling lips.
“Don’t you ever defy me in front of other people again,” he grits out, his expression made of stone, his eyes nearly black with rage.
His fist flies at me like a missile, but I duck and roll off the bed, landing in an undignified heap. I scramble to my feet, but he shoves me from behind, and I crash into the bedside table. It tips over, the lamp shattering against the wall. From the floor, I see him loosening his belt.
Oh God, no.
I raise my hands to protect my face from the leather strap hurtling through the air. It snaps against my wrist and fingers, cutting into the skin. Before I can process the first lash, several rain down on my arm, a deluge of terror that reddens my flesh with livid welts. In quick succession, the belt falls time and again, a wave that never ebbs, but just keeps coming, keeps crashing over me. The leather slashes into my back and my legs. The buckle nicks my knee, and I howl like a wounded animal, but there’s no one to rescue me. I am the dumb lamb that wandered from the fold, and I’ve stumbled into the razor teeth of a hunter’s trap.
“Oh, God. Caleb, please.” Pain steals my breath, and my words barely make it out before another punch slams my head into the wall. The room spins and tilts, and the edges darken.
I slump against the wall, too disoriented to respond. The belt keeps falling, seeking any tender flesh it has overlooked, and I stop fighting the darkness because it’s the only place I’ll find mercy.
22
Iris
“Sarai!”
Her name cannons from my mouth, and I jerk up on the bed. Pain slices under my breasts. I grab at my midsection, disoriented for a moment. I know I’ve been unconscious, and the last thing I saw was that monster’s face. My daughter’s been alone with him for as long as I’ve been out.
I fling my legs over the side of the bed, wincing when my muscles scream in protest. I’m naked, and I have no idea how I got this way. My stomach whirs at the thought of what Caleb may have done to me. Welts, cuts, and bruises crisscross my bare legs and arms. Shame builds in my chest and burns my eyes. How did I let this happen? How did I become this battered woman? A sob shakes my chest, and pain ricochets through my rib cage.
“Careful,” a deep voice says from the corner of the room. “Your ribs are probably bruised. There are painkillers by the bed.”
The face is familiar, but my head is still fuzzy. I do my best to assemble the features into someone I recognize.
“Andrew?” I ask, my voice hoarse from my screams.
“Yeah.” Caleb’s cousin stands from a chair, and averts his eyes from my bruised, naked body. “You might want to cover up.”
I snatch the bedsheet over my breasts. All my responses feel delayed as I drag pieces of this grisly puzzle in place.
“Sarai?” I ask. “Where is she?”
I hold my breath held while I wait.
“She’s in the nursery. I checked on her a little bit ago. She was fine. I fed her one of the bottles from the fridge.”
Relief is quickly followed by anger, fear, and trepidation.
“And Caleb? Where is he?” I ask.
Andrew’s cheeks redden, and he clears his throat.
“He, uh, had a game.” He grabs the bottle and a glass of water from the bedside table. “You’ll need these for your ribs maybe the next few weeks.”