Page 76 of Forbidden Eyes
My vision blurs with tears at the sheer horrific violence I’m watching. My throat is dry and hoarse from crying and shouting to put an end to it. Every hit, every thud, lands harder, sounds louder, breaking Carter’s skin. He’s getting weaker by the second, and I know it’s not just the punishment but his disease.
He can’t keep his focus, and I lose sight of his eyes.
“Dad!” I bellow, as Carter crumples to the ground.
My limbs shake, and I fight with everything in my body to get up and help, to do something to stop it all. But the one man holding me, the one who grabbed me after Carter pushed me from Dad's grip, keeps me in place with ease, twisting my arms back to keep me from moving.
Trails of blood and saliva decorate the dusty floor in a pattern of despair. And standing over it all, my father.
“Dad, stop this. You’re going to kill him.”
“He should have thought about that before he touched you.” He doesn’t even raise his eyes from Carter’s battered body on the floor, barely moving.
“You can’t kill him for that. I’m not a girl. I wanted him. I’m not yours to rule over.”
I try to get up again, but my arms get yanked back to the point where I’m just waiting for my shoulder to pop out of joint. I’m bent forward, but I keep my head up as snot mixes with the tears on my face from all the crying. “Daddy, please.” My voice breaks and another choked sob echoes in the room.
“This is your fault. You asked for all of it,” he shouts.
“No, no, I didn’t. I wanted to know more about our family and you.” My panicked words run into one another. “I didn’t want to be in the dark.” I close my eyes and struggle for any sign of hope that this will end with Carter still breathing.
“Well, now you know.” He kicks his foot into Carter’s ribs, and a muffled groan leaves his body. I squeeze my eyes tight, wishing that when I open them again, I won’t be looking at his bloodied body. Or my father.
“He can’t even defend himself against me. What kind of man is he?” he jeers before spitting on Carter, as if he doesn’t mean anything.
“He needs to get to a hospital,” I mutter, tears still falling down my face. "Please, Dad."
He grabs Carter’s hair and lifts his head, a cruel sneer on his face as if he’s disgusted. There’s no sound, no moan or flutter of eyes. He’s unresponsive and dripping with blood. I shake my head, struggling for air as I look down at Carter’s body. He can’t be… No. He’s stronger than that. Stronger than my father.
“Well, this is your mess,” he eventually says, laughing as he dusts his bloodied hands off and casually walks over to me. "Your problem." He looks at the man holding me, and I'm released immediately. I jump to action, my legs nearly giving way as I scrabble to run over and check Carter.
“Not so fast.” He catches me around the waist and pulls me back to him, his dark eyes looking down at me for a moment as if he’s reconsidering his actions towards me. “We are leaving, and you can come home. Forget this and get back to how things were.”
He’s delusional if he thinks I’m going to go anywhere near him ever again.
“You don’t have the right to order me around anymore. I’m not your daughter after this—after you hit me as well as him. All the years you’ve kept me safe, and it’s by your own hands that you alienate me.” I wish the words sounded stronger, more menacing, but they came out wobbly from the grief and panic rising in my throat. “Now take your hands off me. You’ve done what you wanted to. We're done. Finished.”
He releases me, and I drop to the floor next to Carter.
Tears flood my eyes, but I can’t give in to them. Carter needs me. I hope.
“Carter, please. Please, can you hear me?” I push his hair from his head and lean in to listen for breaths.
Nothing.
I don’t know what to do. I look around to see if I can find anything that might be able to help. The gun that was thrown away is lying in the dirt behind Carter. It’s a crazy idea, but I need to protect Carter the way he protected me. I scurry over the dust and grab the 9mm, palming the gun and twisting back towards my father.
“Leave,” I grit out. Holding the gun suddenly fills me with a power I’ve been missing. I’m not the weak and silly girl being thrown about and slapped. Now, I’m the girl who’s been shown how to shoot, and shoot well.
“What do you think you’re going to do with a gun, Sofia?”
“Don’t test me. I swear, I’ll shoot.” My arms lift the gun and point it at my dad. Hatred and frustration bubble up inside me at how easily my father dismisses anything I have to say.
“You won’t shoot me. I know my own daughter. Now. I’m waiting.”
“For what?”
“For you to come with me. Your little—" he looks at Carter, disgust heavy in his brow "—game is over. I’ve seen to that, now get your fucking ass in the car.” His patience is thin, and it cracks through his voice. Well, I don’t give a crap. I’m through with doing as I’m told. He has no right to treat me the way he has and still make demands.