Page 8 of His to Keep
Not yet?
The man’s grip is stiff. Painful. Bruises rise to life over my skin as he loosens his hold a fraction of an inch, enough to catch the fabric of my blouse between his fingers.
My head shakes.This isn’t happening. This isn’t—
My sleeves are tugged from either end, straining the last few remaining buttons at the front of my blouse. I stare down at the floor, trying to block out the sound of fabric being pulled to breaking point before finally giving way. Cold air stings my bare chest, my cotton bra now visible for all to see, including Father Aaron. He observes parts of my body no one has ever seen before, and it’s sick.
“Begentle,” he hisses as the man begins to yank the rest of my blouse down my arms. “She’s not a doll.” The man’s fingers draw back, barely touching me now. Through clenched teeth, Father Aaron demands, “Theskirt.”
His hands clumsily go to my waist, and I try to push him away before fingers catch the latch that holds my skirt together. I can’t keep him from snapping it and dragging it down my legs. As my last defense falls to the floor, shame smothers me. Humiliation and confusion because this shouldn’t be happening. “Look at me, Ava.”
I’m as helpless as a puppet as my teary eyes lift and settle over his face. His eyes are too bright, the knuckles of his hands clutching the dress nearly the same shade of ivory.
“Beautiful,” he whispers as reverently as he voices the scripture. The young man’s grip tightens as I jerk back in disgust, but it only makes Father Aaron chuckle deeply. “I’ve chosen well.”
Hate flares within me, then despair. Why is he doing this to me?
I’m about to tell him to go to hell when the lifeless grip on my body softens, and I swear the man whispers, “Don’t”, too quiet for Father Aaron to hear. I swallow my words, not sure why I adhere to him.
“Put on the dress.”
All at once, the terror coils into one word, “No.”
“Oh?” Smiling in a way that scares me, Father Aaron throws the dress at me. My hands fail to catch it, and it falls to the floor. My limbs freeze when he grabs my chin and forces me to look at him, cramming me between him and the man. “I’ll let you have this one act of insolence since you don’t know the rules in this house. But I warn you now, I won’t think twice about bending you over the bed and using my belt on your soft—”
I yelp when his hand squeezes my backside. Shaking my head frantically, I try to move back, but the man behind me won’t let me. “Please, no. Don’t.”
Laughing, Father Aaron drops his hands and steps back. There’s a soft hiss as the dress is lifted from the floor by the man. A hand brushes my own in a silent coaxing.
Lift your arms.
I lift them into the air. The dress is tiny and constricting, hugging my body in a way my modest school uniform never did as he pulls it over my head. I’m suffocated by lace and cotton as the cream ribbon is tied tightly around my waist.
“Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation.” Father Aaron’s gaze is still fixed on me. “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is...weak.”
My skin crawls beneath his observation until he finally goes to leave.
“You know what I require of you, Callum.” He glances at the young man. “She sleeps in the bed, and you on the floor. If anything happens to her under your watch, you will suffer tenfold. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” I jump at the slow, halting tenor that comes behind me. Without another word, Father Aaron wrenches the door and leaves. I don’t relax, not even as his footsteps drift down the hall in the direction the stairs are.
Each breath I take is rasped with fear. Tension holds me immobile until a rustle at my side snaps me back to reality. The man I now know to be called Callum sits back down at the desk, though this time, he turns away from me completely. His arm moves back and forth, and the sound of pencil scraping against paper fills the silence in the room. He’s writing or drawing, but I can’t see which as his body hulks over the table. The room has darkened some, the sun now setting behind the trees. With the darkness comes coldness, and my teeth chatter as icy exhaustion takes hold.
Oh God. What am I doing here?
Gran doesn’t know where I am. She’ll be annoyed at me for not coming home. I hope she knows this isn’t like me and tells someone. Hopefully, the police. My parents.
Going over to the bedroom door, I take in the cracked, white paint of the only thing blocking me from leaving this horrible place with despair. Wrapping my fingers around the cool metal of the handle, I pull it down, and my heart skips a beat when it opens. Quickly turning to see if Callum has noticed, I can’t believe his head is still bent over his book, none the wiser to my heart pounding from what I’ve just done.
Quietly pulling the door open a little more, I pray it doesn’t creak and give away my attempt of escaping as I slip my body to the other side when the gap is wide enough. Sweat beads on the back of my neck as I step out of the room. Is this too easy? It feels unbelievable as I make my way to the stairs. Once there, I listen out for the other occupants in the house. Muffled chatter comes from the lounge. Dampening my lips, my eyes settle on the front door.It’s rightthere.So close.
Putting my foot on one step, I halt when a door opens downstairs. “This discussion is over,” Father Aaron says irritably to whoever he’s talking to.
“Why does he have all the fun?” I don’t recognize the speaker’s voice. Maybe John’s? “I think—”
There’s the sound of a slap.
“Youthinknothing. Do not question me again, Nephew. Know your place and have patience. Your rewards will come in time.”