His face flashed before my vision, and a deep instinctual moment came over me where I thought, for just one fleeting second, that I could get out of Richard’s grip by raising my leg and kicking him. But he was too fast. He saw what I was about to do before I even had a chance. His other hand grabbed onto my thigh, and it felt like he’d broken it in half when he slammed my leg back down to the floor. The grip around my neck lessened just a smidge, and I struggled to get away, but instead of letting me get far, he pulled me back and into the bathroom where I fell to the floor, hitting my head off the sink on my way down.
The throbbing came instantly, and something warm ran down the side of my cheek. Shit.
“You’re just like your fucking whore of a mother,” he snarled, pulling me up by the back of my hair. I screamed out in pain, feeling like every last strand had been pulled out. “I thought I could trust you. I thought I had broken you after all these years, molded you into the woman I wanted.” His nose ran down the curve of my jaw, and I almost threw up from the recognition of his Old Spice cologne. “At the very least, I thought I could trust Headmaster Ellison, but I was wrong.”
I whimpered, wishing like hell that Isaiah would break down the door and find me. Was he coming? If I knew anything about Richard, it was that he could survey an area well, and he never went anywhere without knowing all the ins and outs. He always covered his bases. That was, until his mother had her unexpected stroke, shutting down the group home, but nine times out of ten, he was prepared.
Judge Stallard was fast on his feet, and he didn’t make the same mistake twice.
“I thought I told you that you were mine, Gemma.”
My vision was growing blurry, but I fought like hell to stay awake and alert. I dug my toes into the bottoms of my shoes as he pulled my head back even further to run his hot breath over the side of my neck. The same side that held a faint bruise from Isaiah’s deep sucking from last night. Just as the thought came in, Richard's teeth sunk into that exact spot, and a guttural scream left me, feeling the sharp sting of a bite.
“I told you I would teach you how a man treats a woman. How your body and mind could escape into pleasure by my hands. Not some fucked-up little teen boy who has no business putting his dick inside your little cunt.” The hand in my hair pulled tightly again, and I cried out. The other hand went in between my legs, and he grabbed me there, stunning me for a quick second before I heard my name being called from my room.
Sloane.
Panic flew through my veins at the thought of him hurting her. Because he would. Richard was in a bad spot. There was blood on both of us. There was even blood on the floor. There would be no talking himself out of this.
Leave, Sloane. Just leave. Please leave. Run.
“Gemmaaaa!” she sang. “Where are you? I got Betty to make us s’mores for tonight! She said we can come get them here in a few. Oh, and I want full details, by the way. Did Isaiah stop by yet?”
My uncle pulled my hair again as he dragged me to the bathroom door, kicking it wide open and startling Sloane. Her eyes flicked from him to me, and then came the horror. Richard gave her no room to speak or even run. He was over to her within seconds, holding me by his side. I was too stunned to do anything. Too confused by the black gun he had whipped out of his pants at some point, directing it right at her face.
“No!” I yelled, pulling away just enough to be pulled back into him again. “Don’t! Don’t hurt her!”
Sloane’s hands went up slowly as she took a small step back, leaning onto her desk with the twinkle lights hanging just above her head. Her gaze drifted to mine, and something passed between us just before Richard snarled in her direction. “Did you know that she was fucking the Huntsman’s son? Did you encourage it?”
Confusion flashed along her features, and I quickly answered, “She didn’t know! She warned me against him.” He knows. He knows who Isaiah is and what we’ve been doing. I suddenly didn’t want Isaiah to come find me. Richard had a gun, and he was crazy enough to shoot Isaiah on the spot.
Richard didn’t give Sloane a chance to answer him. Instead, he raised the gun up high and slammed it onto her forehead, making her crumble at our feet.
A muffled cry left me, and I pushed and scratched to get out of his grip, but he was strong. Even with all the fight I had in me, he was too fucking strong.
What was I going to do? Think, Gemma! Survive.
“I’ll never be yours!” I screamed, throat raspy from the tears and pain. “Never. I will never be yours, just like my mother was never yours.”
Richard laughed, letting go of me quickly. I fell to the floor and scooted all the way back to my bed, scrambling to get to my feet. I wasn’t going to pretend that I wasn’t intimidated. Fear was bubbling up in my core, threatening me as it climbed up my throat, because I was looking into the eyes of a man who’d hurt me. Who had convinced me that he cared for me and that the way he treated me was normal. That my punishments were just what parents had to do to make good citizens. But his punishments were set in place to break me. To make me crave his approval. He tried to manipulate me, and when Tobias caught on to his lewd behavior, Richard had gotten rid of him. Just like he’d gotten rid of my mother.
The back of my hand wiped over my face as I smeared away the blood dribbling down my cheek. My uncle squared his shoulders, still holding the gun in his hand, as a pitifully sad smile curved over his lips as he watched me climb to my feet through the swaying of the room. “Oh, baby girl. You have no idea what I have planned for you. You’ll be begging for me by the end.”
I shook my head, tears and blood streaking over my cheeks and hands as I mentally pushed back on my fear. “I know what you have planned for me, Uncle. And you can’t make me a replica of her. I will never be her. I will never be what you want. I won’t be your good girl, you sick fucking bastard.” My attention shot to the door behind me, and deep down, I knew there was no way out. But I was going to try anyway. As soon as he threw his head back and laughed at my insult, I darted forward, but one smack to the head and I was on my back, drifting in and out of consciousness.
Survive, Gemma. Just survive.