Page 24 of His to Keep
“B-but Father Aaron, he—”
“Enjoyed the show. Now, get out.” When I don’t move, his fist crashes into the wall next to my head. The impact reopens old wounds and makes his hand bleed. He looks down, breath quivering with rage. “Get. Out.”
“I’m—I’m sorry.” Frightened, I stumble out of the bath and run from him.
Retreating to the bedroom corner, I slide down the wall and wrap my arms around my legs. I stare ahead at nothing, but inside my head is a different story.
What just happened between us?
Placing my fingers against my lips, I shudder. Callum likes hurting himself? It makes me remember the time he came out of the bathroom with cuts on his arm. He likes self-punishment, and now I’m faced with a problem.
I liked kissing him.
I don’t think it’s butterflies you’re meant to feel when you kiss someone. It’s fire. Because you’re meant to burn. Burn in the depths of hell like all sinners do.
* * *
Callum spendsthe night in the bathroom. As the morning sun pokes through the gap in the curtains, he emerges, and sinks into his chair. But not before I see the shade of death hollowing his eyes, dimming the blue to a deathly gray.
Swaying, his face suddenly impales the desk. He passed out. I’m about to check that he’s okay when his exhausted snores fill the silence. With his back now to me, I take in the damage for the first time, and every part of me cringes. It’s terrible—worse than I thought.
Oh, Callum. What did you do?
While he said he’d done it to himself, I only believe it to be half true. The other marks and bruises covering him, he couldn’t have possibly done to himself.
Footsteps thud on the stairs, and my back stiffens. Somehow, I know it’s Father Aaron. Unlike John’s steps, his are more taunting, each hit of his heel on the wood his way of announcing he’s coming. A tact to inflict fear before he’s even arrived. And it works. His visits to the bedroom are rare, and after the way he was last night, I’m even more worried. When he reaches the top step, I turn to Callum, who’s still unconscious when he’s usually the first to hear someone coming.
“Callum,” I whisper anxiously, trying to rouse him. He doesn’t move. “Please wake up.”Don’t leave me alone.
My heart threatens to burst out of my chest the closer Father Aaron gets. Callum sleeps on, and my stomach knots as the lock turns. Father Aaron walks inside slowly, hands embedded into his pockets, two soulless eyes searching the room for me. When he spots me on the floor, he moves past Callum until he’s in front of me. His polished shoes nearly touch the tips of my toes, but I can’t move.
With a stoic expression, he offers his hand. “I want to show you something.”
Swallowing hurts. My throat’s too dry to speak. When I don’t move, he huffs out an impatient breath, and I know there isn’t any point in fighting. He’ll only force me if I don’t come willingly, and then punish me for it.
Lifting my hand, he doesn’t wait to snatch my wrist and drag me off the floor, his grip like an inescapable vice. As he takes me out of the room, I glance over my shoulder at Callum, wishing he’d wake up and come with me.
With anxiety causing havoc to my insides, I barely take in my surroundings as Father Aaron takes me down a long, narrower corridor. We remain upstairs; the house is much bigger than I thought. Soon, we come to a door at the end of a different passage, and he pushes it open, revealing a large room lit with candles. It’s a bedroom with dark red walls, a king-sized four-poster bed with drapes and rich satin sheets. It dominates the space, a vast, intricately detailed wooden crucifix of Jesus Christ nailed above it.
Panic prickles my neck as he stops me in the middle of the room and moves my hair off my neck, his fingers touching the skin there. I don’t know what he’s doing until he leans in close behind me and breathes in through his nose, sniffing my hair while his thumb grazes my throat.
“I must apologize.” His tone is hushed. “I haven’t been forthcoming as to what it is I expect of you now that you’re beginning to settle into the family.” He moves around me. though I refuse to meet his gaze. “Do you like what you see? The room?” No. It’s dull and dated, with dark wooden floors and a smell of must and burning wax. My body shakes brutally, teeth now chattering. “This room will be important.”
My heart stops, and this time, I do look at him. “W-what?”
“This is where you become mine in a joining ceremony.” My chest caves, and it feels like he’s just kicked me in the stomach. Putting my hand over my mouth, I almost get sick. “It’s the perfect room—right in the center of the house. It was my great Grandfather’s, this place. Passed down to my father, and now me. There are a few renovations needed to make it safer for you. All in due time.”
Safer.
“I—”
“I knew you were the one when I saw you. Your virtue called to me. You will serve me, Ava, and give yourself to me. It’s why God put you in my path.” I shake my head, but he ignores me.No, no, no.“But it must be right. Preparations will be made before the ceremony happens, so you must take this time to learn from my son how to serve and please me. For the next time you step foot in this room, we’ll become one.”
Sobbing, I lose the sanity I have left.I can’t do this. I can’t—
“Why are you doing this to me?” I plead, and his eyebrows knit together, like he’s confused. I can’t believe he doesn’t see how wrong this is. How badheis. “Father Aaron, please. Let me go home.”
“Youarehome. And you are now to address me as your Lord whenever you speak to me, are we clear?”