“Is there anything else you needed, Daddy?” I ask him softly, pushing my hair back behind my ear.

  He looks me up and down, his eyes taking in my naked skin as well as my bare soul, a smirk crossing his weathered lips. His licks them, pushes himself off the wall, and shakes his head.

  “Get those fucking kids back in this house, then bring your ass back to bed,” he tells me in a stern tone as he lies back down and yawns tiredly. “Maybe if you put in a better performance than that bullshit you fed me, I’ll think about you more often instead of them.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” I say softly as I get to my feet and hurry across the room. I wrap a robe around myself, secure the belt tightly around my waist and run down the stairs.

  He’s warning me about the one thing I’ve feared for so long.

  He has his eyes set on our children and I have to be better in bed to keep his hands on me so that his touch doesn’t wander further than it should.

  Chapter 5

  I grind my hips as best as I can—the way he taught me to. He showed me once the way he likes to be pleasured and even though it shouldn’t be as hard as it is, he makes it that way. He wants me to improve, he said, so that I don’t have to worry about him doing to them what he’s done to me.

  I lean down, pressing the palms of my hands firmly on his shoulders. He lets out a low moan, bares his teeth, and watches me with unbridled passion in his eyes.

  He sits up, wraps his arms around me and tells me to go faster. He’s getting close to his release—that’s the only thing Daddy ever cares about—his pleasure and not mine.

  I close my eyes as I rest my forehead against his, moving my hips faster, taking in more of his cock than I already had and whimper slightly.

  “Daddy …”

  My voice trails off as he digs his fingers into my sweaty flesh. He grips my hips as he begins to thrust up into me.

  I wrap my arms tightly around his shoulders and close my eyes. He’ll be done soon, I’ll be allowed to clean up, and then the nightmare will be over for now.

  He holds me tighter and thrusts one more time up into me. I feel his seed shoot into me, warm and grasping to plant life inside of me. I pray that it fails. We shouldn’t have anymore children—not in the world I’m forced to live in.

  He slaps my ass which is my signal to get off him, and he lets out a content sigh as he lays back down.

  “You’re getting better, Darbs. Much better,” he says in a tired tone.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I reply as I move off the bed and get to my feet. “I’m gonna go clean up and check on the kids. I’ll bring you a glass of water, okay?”

  “Yeah, whatever,” he replies dismissively.

  I reach for my robe again and dress myself as best as I can on the way to the bathroom. I reach for a hand towel and dampen it with warm water, cleaning myself up, then tossing it into the hamper. I walk down to the children’s room and peek inside.

  I smile softly, resting my head against the cracked door. Cleo is sleeping with her favorite stuffed teddy bear in her arms, Richter is sleeping on the top bunk across the room like a big boy and Skylar is sleeping on the bottom.

  But I know those three like I know the back of my hand, and by the time morning comes, Skylar will be cuddled up with her little sister and Richter will be on the bottom bunk.

  It’s funny how they rotate the way they do, but they’re happy in their state of ignorant bliss and I intend to keep them that way.

  I close the door softly and head into the kitchen. Our house is a big home, comfortable, and very private. That’s one thing that Daddy never spared on—the need for privacy in his home.

  No one ever came to visit, and we were never allowed off the property. If groceries were needed, he would go out on his own and get them.

  Sometimes he’d be gone for days at a time and I silently found myself hoping that maybe he had a heart attack and died where he stood.

  No luck so far, I think with a sigh as I reach into the cupboard for a large glass. I walk to the refrigerator and pull out the pitcher of water, filling it almost to the brim, then setting the pitcher back inside.

  I stare at the glass for a moment, wondering if there’s something, anything, that I could possibly mix into this to end his pain and mine, but I know that I would never be able to hurt him.

  He’s my father.

  He gave me three beautiful children.

  No matter how much of a monster he seems to be, I love him with all of my heart.

  Resigning myself to the fate of another day, I carefully walk the glass back up to Daddy’s room and blink in surprise when I see him sitting up and glancing toward the window thoughtfully.

  “Here you are, Daddy,” I tell him softly as I walk the glass over to him.

  “Thanks, Darbs,” he says as he takes it without so much as a glance in my direction. He sips the water slowly, his eyes still on the world outside as he gets to his feet and walks over to the window that overlooks the oubliette.

  “You know, sometimes I wonder what shit could have been like if your Momma was still alive,” he says, setting the glass on dresser and opening the window. “She was a damn fine piece of ass, that one.”

  I cringe at his words.

  He’s never seen any of us as anything other than a means of pleasure and it’s always made me wonder if something happened to him when he was younger that made him like this.

  I never dared to ask.

  Daddy has his secrets, and what he chooses to share with me is his prerogative.

  I have none.

  I’ve tried before to keep secrets from him, but he always finds out what I’m hiding, and I’ve given up hope that I would ever have a thought of my own that he isn’t able to pluck from my thoughts.

  “You’ll be better than her in no time, kid. Keep practicing and we’ll keep getting on just fine,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  I nod, clasping my hands in front of me as he finishes his water, then nods toward the bed.

  “Let’s get some shut-eye. I’m fucking beat.”

  Chapter 6

  “I’m sorry that we didn’t get to have our sleepover last night,” I tell Cleo when the kids arrive in the kitchen for breakfast. “Maybe your daddy will let us do it tonight instead?”

  I cast him a meaningful glance as he quirks an eyebrow at me and scoffs. He shakes his head which almost sinks my heart down into my stomach, but when he waves a hand dismissively, I know that he’s letting me have one final chance with her.

  “Okay, Momma,” she replies indifferently. Dad snorts and rolls his eyes at his newspaper, and I toss my dishrag at him. I know I’ll pay for that later, but he just doesn’t want to give her a chance and it pisses me off to no end.

  I know she’s not above his reach and that he’ll do what he feels is necessary to her to keep me in line.

  Over my dead body, I think as I return his level stare.

  “That wasn’t very nice, Darbs,” he says conversationally.

  “Shit happens,” I reply lightly, using one of his favorite little terms. It’s what he tells me when I ask about Mom and her brothers. This man will never admit his fault in anything, and that’s something I’ve come to terms with.

  Dad is a stubborn old bastard, but I’m just as stubborn as he is, and I honestly think that’s why I’ve lasted as long as I have. I keep things interesting. When he thinks I’m ready to just roll over and take his shit, I throw a dishrag at his face. It goes both ways, though, because when I think he’s finally on his way out, he seems to have it in him for “one more fuck”.

  This can’t all be his fault.

  There’s no way that one day he decided to wake up and procreate with his own children, while abusing the others horribly. I’m not entirely sure I want to find out what made him into the man that he is, but I have to know if it’s something that might be stirring inside of me too, because if it is hereditary, I plan on killing it before it does harm to my babies.

  I refuse to be sick like him too.

  Richter and Skylar are outside where Dad told them to go and he’s sitting at the kitchen table with Cleo. I know it’s taking more patience than he’s capable of to color with her, but he’s trying best—and so is she.

  Every line she comes close to crossing on the paper and with his temper, she retreats immediately and asks for his help.

  He’s humoring her for now, and I guess that’s all I can really ask for.

  “Darby?”

  “Yes?” I ask him quietly. He won’t ask me for anything I’m not supposed to provide him in front of the children, which means this will probably some kind of labor that’s too much for me to bear alone.

  Dad likes limits—physically and emotionally, but as long as those children need me, he’s going to have to do a hell of a lot more to me than he already has to break me.

  “I want you to climb down into the well today and give it a nice cleaning. Put some elbow grease into it,” he says as he reaches for the purple crayon sitting next to Cleo’s small hand.

  I wrinkle my nose at him even though he’s not looking at me.

  He’s never sent me down into the well before and the last person that …

  “Why?” I ask him evenly.

  “When did you get so damn mouthy?” he snaps back, giving me a glare. “Because I fucking said so—that’s why.”

  “No way,” I shoot back, vehemently shaking my head. You can’t get rid of me that easily. Especially when I haven’t done anything wrong, I finish to myself.

  He leans back in his chair, an amused smirk on his face. He sucks his teeth and glances down at Cleo who’s now watching the both of us curiously before he leans back down and leans his arms on the table.

  “Your Momma is a lot smarter than her Momma,” he says to her with a chuckle. “Too smart for her own good sometimes,” he continues, casting me a dangerous glare. “But she should know that I’m not entirely done with her yet, so don’t you think she should be a good girl and clean the well like Daddy asked her to?”

  Cleo shifts uncomfortably on her knees. She gives me a curious look and a frightened one to Dad when she turns her attention back to him.

  “Momma …” her voice trails off as she bites her lower lip.

  “Go outside and play with your brother and sister,” I tell her tiredly.

  “Stay where you are,” Dad counters in a stern tone. “We’re not done coloring and you may have to see what happens when someone talks back instead of doing what they’re told.”

  I cross my arms defiantly over my chest and tear my eyes away from him and back to our youngest. “Cleo; mind what your Momma tells you and go outside.”

  “Don’t you move,” Dad says to her in a low, dangerous tone.

  Cleo puts her face in her hands and begins to sob as quietly as she can. She’s confused and doesn’t know what to do and that’s more our fault than her own. She understands what I want her to do and she understand what Dad is telling her to do, but she’s so scared she doesn’t know who to listen to.

  I walk over to their side of the table and put an arm around Chloe’s shaking little body and give Dad a dirty look. One he returns with wild eyes and a dangerous smile.

  “Get your ass into the well, girl. Don’t make me tell you again.”

  Chapter 7

  My back is sore and it’s hotter than Satan’s asshole down in the darkness, but I knew what Dad was up to. Either get in the well, or he’d get into Cleo and I’m still holding out hope that he’ll let me out of here if I do a good enough job.

  I sigh as I reach down the wet and dirty rag back into the bucket and keep scrubbing the mold off the brick enclosure. I try not to think of Mom—of how she died all alone down here. Probably scared more for me than herself, but I hope she knows that I’m as much of a fighter as she is. Even more so according to Dad, and I won’t let it end the way she was forced to.

  “Hey Mom!”

  I glance up at the opening of the well and shield my eyes from the sole beam of sunlight that’s threatening to blind on Dad’s behalf for not continuing to work.

  “Yes?” I call back.

  “I’m getting hungry. Are you going to make supper tonight?”

  I smile despite the situation I find myself in. Richter doesn’t let anyone within a fifty-mile radius of his voice know that he’s a growing boy and is constantly hungry.

  “Soon as I’m done down here,” I promise him.

  “Get the fuck away from there!”

  His gasp echoes down to me, and the quick glance over his shoulder before he disappears makes me roll my eyes. Maybe one day they won’t be as afraid of Dad as they currently are.

  I get it.

  He’s an insufferable bastard that seems to want to make whatever years he has left on this Earth as uncomfortable for the rest of us as he apparently feels, and I’ve already promised myself that if the clock doesn’t run out on him soon enough, I’ll find a way to save my kids from the Hell I know he has waiting for them.

  I put my hands on my hips, waiting impatiently for him to appear in my line of sight, but then swallow hard when I see he’s carrying a clearly terrified Cleo. She looks stressed and I’m hoping it’s because of something he may have said to her, rather than did.

  Not that she should have to suffer either indignity, but this is truly a hope for the lesser of two evils.

  Dad grins when he sees me looking up at them and bounces our youngest in his arms. He whispers something into her ear, and she nods, burying her face into his neck. He rolls his eyes as he attempts to wrestle out of her iron tight grasp, then sets her down on the grass surrounding the oubliette.

  “Just like I told you, okay?” he asks her, as he leans down and ruffles her hair. She nods, placing her fists to her mouth and waits as she watches him in clear distress.

  “Good girl,” he says as he tosses the rope ladder down into the darkness. I raise an eyebrow and put my hand on one of the rungs, assuming I’ve done a good enough job that he’s letting me out, but the look he gives me tells me otherwise.

  “Go on,” he instructs Cleo, keeping his steely stare on me. “Go down there with your Momma.”

  “What?” I ask in shock.

  Cleo carefully grips the top of the rope and begins to slowly inch her way down to me. I grab her as soon as she gets close enough and hold her tightly against me, telling her that it’ll be okay.

  Dad begins to pull the rope out of my reach and when he’s got it all the way up, he lets it fall on the side of the structure, before he leans down, hands on his thighs, and grins.

  “You wanted a night with her to make her understand how shit goes right?” he quips. Before he continues, he closes his eyes tightly as he turns his head to cough, then turns his attention back to us. “Now you’ll have it. I expect you both to be obedient little girls when I come collect you in the morning.”

  He doesn’t give me a chance to protest, and as he callously ignores Cleo’s much louder sobs, I watch him put the wooden gate back into its place and sit down on the dark, cool dirt with my daughter in my arms.

  He’s trying to break me the same way he did with Jocelyn.

  And I can’t let him.

  Chapter 8

  I don’t know what time it is, but my body is shaking. Not because I’m afraid of where I am, but because my body needs rest and I refuse to give it any. I hold Cleo close to my chest and continue to rub her back as she sleeps quietly against me.

  This hole in the ground isn’t very large and I know that whatever’s left of my mother has to be close by.

  I’d love to be able to talk to her now, to ask her how she survived Dad as long as she did, and if he ever put her in the well before the last time I ever saw her. Was she strong? The way he speaks about her sometimes makes me believe it.

  But if she was so strong, why couldn’t she save herself or her brothers? Why wasn’t she able to give us all a chance outside of Dad’s home?

  I know I’ll never get the answer to any of the questions I have because Dad won’t talk about things he can’t control, but I know he misses her.

  The constant comparisons to her when I’m doing my best to please him—emotionally or sexually—tells me as much.

  I’m glad she’s dead.

  She shouldn’t have to live to see what we’ve become, and even though she didn’t save us, I forgive her. I know that standing up to Dad is a scary thing to do, but if she had me, then she lasted longer than she probably thought she would and that’s a bravery I can appreciate.

  Cleo’s shifts in my arms. I lean down and gently kiss the top of her head because I don’t want her to wake up in this abyss. I want the sun to shine on her skin when she opens her eyes again, and I want her to be out of this damn hole running around with her brother and sister.

  I would stay in here if that’s what it would take to make Dad happy, but I can’t. Not when I have children to protect from him. Not when I see how much disdain he has for one, and barely cares about the others.

  That’s how it always starts with him though. At first, he treated me like I was gold—the most precious jewel in his crown of deviance, and then I was treated like a burden. Even after the first time he held my body close to his, kissing me in a way, that even then I knew, a father should never kiss his child. But when he finally had broken me in to his liking, he lost interest in me … until I was able to give him children.

  And now I do my best to keep his depraved lust focused solely on me. I don’t want the cycle to continue, and no matter what happens, I’ll make sure that it ends with me.

  I let out a sigh as I cradle Cleo in my arms and rest my cheek against the top of her head. My body is envious of the sleep she’s getting, but my heart is stronger than my mind, and I know that I can stay awake as long as I need to.

  I begin to hum quietly.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25