I swallow as he passes me by, the sheer air of his presence making my knees buckle. Because that same pain he applied to himself … I’ve felt it before every time he struck me.
And that whip resting in that stand is merely an extension of his hands.
“It will be your turn soon,” he whispers into my ear, and he pushes something into my hand.
I look down. It’s a metal rod which he picked up from just beside the door that carries a mark. The mark of our house.
“This will be your tool,” he says, the darkness in his voice making me shudder. “For every sin must be punished.”
I helped him … several times over these past few days. And now I must pay the price.
“These are the rules of our House,” he says, his words weighing heavily on my soul. “Accept and do your duty.”
I know it’s my duty.
This is what I was born into, and whether I like it or not doesn’t matter.
This is what I was supposed to do … who I was supposed to become.
When he passes me, my fingers stiffen around the metal rod as I realize what this means. But a part of me still refuses to bend.
“Is that what you did to yourself after Mother died?”
He glances at me over his shoulder, pausing in his tracks. “I did what I had to do to keep this house from falling. You should do the same.”
And as he walks off, my fingers clench the rod so hard that my nails dig into my skin until it cracks and bleeds.
Present
I shake off the sudden unease clogging my brain and focus on getting back on track. I came here for a reason, with a purpose, and I must see it through to the end.
Amelia is right there with a towel slapped around her private parts when I march out the door. Her hands clutch the top while she crosses her knees, as though she feels the need to hide from me. And I wish she believed me when I told her that she didn’t have to hide her body or her scars. No amount of sins could ever make me love her less.
But repeating it now would make me a hypocrite as I don’t show myself to her either.
“What are we going to do?” she asks.
I frown and look away for a second, wondering how I’m going to say this.
“You’re going to take me back there, aren’t you?”
I refocus my attention on her. Of course she’d know instantly. She’s too smart for her own good. “You have to come back.”
“Why?” she asks, the hand with which she kept her towel in place forming a fist. “Give me one good reason.”
Grinding my teeth, I stand my ground even when I want to wrap her in my arms so desperately. “Because I need you.”
The look on her face briefly softens, and her grip loosens. She stares at me for a second, but that second feels like an infinite amount of time where not just my heart but my very soul is judged. And here I was thinking I was the punisher, the one to make people confess. But my desires have revealed something hidden in plain sight. I am not the master of my own emotions. She is.
Her gaze on me, her thoughts and feelings about me, are all I care about. It gives her power over me. And that look on her face tells me she knows.
“I … I …” she stammers, shaking her head. “Please …”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You know you have to come with me.”
Her face tightens and shifts into something less sweet. “Even after everything we just did, after everything we talked about, you still want to do this?”
Her words hurt more than anyone else’s ever could, and I force myself to ignore the pang in my stomach, along with my bleeding heart. She must come. If I leave her here, there will be nothing left to save.
I hold out my hand. “Come back with me.”
She frowns and swallows. “Do I even have a choice?”
I shake my head.
The silence between us is murderous, like a knife cutting straight into our souls. If nothing else will, the poisonous look on her face will kill me. But I have no choice. If she doesn’t come …
I look away. “There is a helicopter waiting for us.”
“So what? If I don’t come, you’re just going to threaten me? Hurt me?”
I make a fist. I do not ever want to do the things she speaks of. If only she realized just how much I’ve grown to care for her.
“No wait, you’ll just get your henchmen to do it for you,” she scoffs, adding a tsk sound.
I turn around and walk into her room, grabbing the first pair of women’s pants and a shirt that I can find, and I throw them to her. She barely manages to catch them. “Put that on.”