A mirthless tune, something without merit, but hopeful that the vibration coming from deep inside me will keep her safely in a world of dreams far away from Dad.

  I wonder what crosses her mind when he yells at her. Does she hate him, or does she desperately seek his approval like I did when I was her age?

  I wonder how Richter feels when Dad tells him that he’s a waste of time and to fuck off. Does it break his heart like it used to do to me, or does he try to figure out a way to be seen in a better light?

  And Skylar.

  Does she feel lost when Dad looks at her the way he looked at me the first time he came into my bedroom after he put Mom back into the well? Has he already put his hands on her and made her swear not to tell me?

  Fuck.

  The longer I sit in the darkness, the more these thoughts fill my mind, the more I find myself wondering if I’m too late to save them.

  Chapter 9

  My eyes open with a start.

  I’m so damn angry at myself for falling asleep but when Cleo smiles at me, I know she’s forgiven me.

  “Hi Momma,” she says softly.

  I pull her close and kiss her forehead, before I get to my feet and glance up at the sunlight. The wooden cover has been removed from the top of the well and that means that Dad is waiting for us.

  Unless it was one of the kids, but I doubt it. They know his wrath is as terrible as ever now, and the older he gets, the meaner and colder he becomes.

  They don’t know the father that I did when I was younger. He had his moments where he could be so kind, that I would almost forget all of the terrible things he would do to me.

  Trips to the zoo, an ice cream cone for being good, and sometimes, if I were really well behaved, he’d go weeks without making me sleep in his bed.

  Little favors like that sometimes outweighed the bad and that’s why it was easy for me to forgive him after we had Cleo.

  No one will understand it, but it’s not for anyone to understand. Forgiveness is something not easily achieved and I love my father—even if not in the way he hopes, but I do.

  It’s an undeniable feeling deep inside of my belly.

  But so is the ominous shadow that sits over his face as of late, and that’s why I smart off to him more often than not.

  I need to keep him angry with me so that they’re safe. When Dad loses his temper, he also uses a lot of energy up these days, and that’s for the best.

  “Come on up—I don’t have all fucking day to stand around waiting for you two,” he barks down into the semi-darkness. I sigh as I hold Cleo close and look around the old, worn bricks that surround us. I’m not entirely sure how he expects me to get out of here without the rope ladder, but there’s only one way out and that’s up.

  “Remember when I used to run around with you on my back?” I ask Cleo gently. “How you would hold onto my neck really tight, like a strong girl?”

  She pulls away from me and looks into my eyes, nodding with serious eyes.

  “Can you do that for me now?” I inquire. She nods again and I set her down on the dirty oubliette floor, kneeling in the dismal remnants that my mother had to endure on her own as Cleo uses both of her hands to push the hair out of her face, and kisses me gently on the cheek. She’s scared, but she’s trying to be such a brave little girl right now.

  That’s why I can’t let him win.

  If he does, she’s at his mercy and I’ll end up in the same place that Jocelyn was thrown away to die.

  “Go on now,” I encourage with a small smile. “Show Momma that you’re still a strong girl.”

  Cleo moves carefully around me and climbs onto my back, her little arms wrapping around my neck, hands clasped together, and holds on tightly. I get back to my feet and instruct her to wrap her legs around my sides as much as she can. Once she’s as secure around my body as possible, I look up at the top of the oubliette toward freedom.

  I chew on my lower lip for a moment while I look for a crevice, a crack, anything, that I can use to begin my ascent when I finally find one. I dig my nails deep into the hole between the bricks, the tips of my fingers grazing something curious, but I dismiss it for now, and begin to lift my body up the side, climbing like a Momma bear with my cub on my back.

  I slip once and almost lose my footing, but when I hear Cleo’s terrified gasp, I manage to regain my footing, and continue climbing.

  We’re about halfway up when Dad leans over the side of the oubliette and smirks, tossing the rope ladder down.

  I refuse to take it. I know it’ll draw his wrath, but what doesn’t these days? Instead, I continue to slowly, and meticulously, make my way toward the sunlight without his help and when I finally reach the top, I tell Cleo to climb up my back and out onto the grass. She does as she’s told because she’s a good girl.

  Unlike me.

  I’m a defiant, nasty little girl.

  That’s what he tells me.

  No matter how hard I try, no matter what I say to him, or do to please him, he still manages to find faults in me.

  I take a deep breath as I pull myself out of the well and roll onto the grass, breathing heavily, and hoping for the slightest reprieve before he turns into a jackal.

  “Did you learn your lesson, Darbs?” he asks, his tone sharp and deadly.

  I take a series of ragged breaths and use the last of my strength to push myself to all fours. I have to answer him, and I have to do so soon, or he’ll become angry and there are two targets for his rage now.

  “Yes. I’m sorry,” I manage to say.

  “Good. Get yourself inside and get cleaned up. Take the kid with you,” he commands.

  The sound of the wooden gate slamming shut over the oubliette is a relief. It means that the punishment is over this time and whatever offense he thinks I’ve committed has been forgiven.

  This has to end, I tell myself as I get to my feet tiredly and take Cleo’s hand. I smile down at her, wipe the stray tear from her cheek, and lead her back toward the house of horrors that I have to find some way to save my children from.

  I’m their only hope and I refuse to let them become engulfed in the darkness that’s so close to swallowing me whole.

  Chapter 10

  The torrent of hot water cascades over my body. My hands are on the shower wall, my head is down, and my eyes are closed. I locked the children in their room before I came into the bathroom because I still don’t trust Dad not to touch them.

  It’s been in his eyes more often than not lately, and even though I’m still young enough to give him more children, he gets bored much too quickly with his wives.

  I chuckle despite my mood.

  We were never his wives. Not even Laura. From what I can remember, the stories that I’ve read in Mom’s diary, Laura was more of a prisoner of his than his wife, and when she bore him three children, he chased her off.

  He didn’t care if she left because she wasn’t his blood. She didn’t know what he was going to do to their children, and she only cared about herself.

  Thanks, whoever hurt Dad as much as you did.

  The thought is sarcastic, bitter, and full of hate for a woman I’ve never known, but I feel that it’s well deserved.

  Then my thoughts turn toward my own mother. Did she try? Did she ever think of taking her brothers and running? I don’t know because I never got the chance to know her. I vaguely remember her face, only ever seen when Dad held me and let me peek down into the oubliette.

  I raise my head toward the hot water and let it continue to burn my flesh as I think about her. She must have tried because Dad tells me sometimes that I’m like her. Willful, disobedient, and care only about the children instead of him.

  Maybe I have more of her inside of me than I do him. Maybe I won’t become a monster too.

  Maybe … but the last thing I’ll ever dare to do in this place is hope. I’ll never hope for myself, my children are a different matter. They’ll survive this without having to feel his touch because as long as I’m still alive, as long as I’m still of use to him, he’ll keep his attention on me.

  I startle when I hear the bathroom door creak open. I wait for a moment, listening for the sound of one of my children’s voices, but when the silence follows, I wonder if maybe I’m just hearing things.

  Of course, that all changes when the bathroom door slides open.

  “How long do you plan on standing in there?” comes the gruff question.

  “I’m almost done,” I reply quietly as I open my eyes.

  Dad’s standing there, looking at me with his arms crossed over his chest, and a look of disdain on his face.

  Of all the things that crushes me the most, it’s the feeling of knowing that he’s disappointed with me. With a heavy sigh, I turn away from him, and turn the knobs to shut the water off. I reach up for the towel and wrap it around my body as I pull the door open a little wider and step out onto the bathroom mat, careful to avoid the disappointment in his eyes.

  “Sorry, Daddy,” I mumble as I step toward the sink.

  He chuckles, clicks his tongue against his teeth and comes over to stand behind me. I do my best not to shudder when he presses his body against mine and runs his fingers down my arm. I do my best not to cry when he leans down and places his chin on my shoulder, his lips grazing my neck.

  Instead, I reach a hand up and wipe the steam away from the mirror and reach for my comb, doing my best not to react to the feeling of my body betraying me under the weight of his touch.

  “You’re such a beautiful girl, Darbs,” he murmurs against the nape of my neck.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I say as evenly as I can. I hope he doesn’t hear the slight tremor in my voice. I hope he can’t feel the tremble that’s starting to go through me.

  But I know my father and he misses nothing.

  This fact is soon proven when one of his hands moves down my back and lifts the towel up. He gently smacks my ass, before using his hand to nudge my legs apart, and slides the tip of his fingers along my pussy lips.

  “Mm,” he groans as he places his forehead on the back of my neck. I set the comb down and opt for my toothbrush instead. Maybe if I can distract myself by scrubbing my teeth instead of trying to subtly assault him with the comb, he’ll get the hint and leave me alone for now.

  I twist the cap off the tube and bite down on my tongue when he slides a finger inside of me. I refuse to give him a verbal reaction—that would be a sick reward for him and it’s my turn to punish him a little bit.

  Dad begins to slide his finger in and out of my opening, gently kissing the back of my neck. His stubble tickles me slightly but I ignore it as I squeeze some paste onto my toothbrush and turn the faucet on.

  “Come on, Darbs,” he breathes as he slides another finger inside of me. “Show me how much you love this.”

  Again, I ignore him as I hold the toothbrush under the warm water, then lift my eyes to the mirror and begin to scrub my teeth.

  Dad continues to thrust his fingers in and out of me as he lifts his eyes to mine in the reflective glass. A small smile begins to curl the edge of his lips. He knows. He can see it in my carefully bland face that I’m doing my best to defy him, and I know that this won’t last for much longer.

  He clears his throat as he rests his chin on top of my head, his fingers now dormant inside of me.

  The look in his eyes can be likened to amusement, but I know better. Nothing “amuses” him, especially not when it comes to his children.

  But Dad is patient—he always has been. It’s something that I’ve come to realize when I was able to understand what my new role was in this house. When I took Jocelyn’s place in his bed, how he trained me to do it just how he likes it. He may be an angry man a lot more than usual, but he’s patient and that’s one of the many reasons I fear for the safety my children.

  I grunt slightly when he finally removes his fingers and do my best not to cringe when he sucks them dry. He takes a step back, his hands now on my hips and cocks his head around mine, to kiss me on the cheek.

  “Guess you’re not in the mood,” he begins conversationally. “I’ll have to see who else in this house might be willing to show good ole Daddy some love then.”

  All of the small hairs on my body stand up and I meet his gaze in the mirror. This is what he does when I don’t want to play wife—he threatens me with the kids because he knows I’ll do anything to keep them away from his static touch.

  I make quick work of the rest of the scrubbing and wash my mouth out. Once I’ve shut off the water, I turn around to face him, and let my towel drop to the bathroom floor in a damp heap.

  “I’m ready now,” I submit quietly.

  My eyes lower to the floor. A day in the oubliette did nothing to stave his desires and even though I haven’t properly had time to rest yet, I have to do this.

  Dad leans down and places his forehead against mine. I can feel his breath hot against my skin and I close my eyes.

  “I love you, Darbs,” he whispers.

  “I know, Daddy,” I reply quietly.

  “No. You don’t.”

  He uses the tip of his fingers to raise my chin and I open my eyes. I almost take a step back. There’s something different in his eyes now. There’s no anger, no rage, no malcontent.

  It’s not something that I’ve ever seen before, so I’m not quite sure what it is.

  He clears his throat and looks away for a moment, before blowing out his breath and raking a hand back through his hair.

  “I never loved any of the other ones. The wives, the kids—hell, I don’t think I even loved my mother. But you … you’re special, kid. You make me feel the way they all should have, and I wonder sometimes …” his voice trails off as he raises his eyes back toward me.

  “What’s that, Daddy?” I ask as I wrap my arms around myself.

  “I wonder if I had you first, if none of this would have ever happened,” he explains with a dry chuckle. “You love me. Honestly and truly love me—I can feel it. Jocelyn never did, neither did those waste of sperm brothers of hers. Laura was worthless, and Taylee—my mother … that bitch was loonier than a fucking toon. Trenton, my dear and loving father, wasn’t worth shit—he never came looking for me until it was too late. But you, baby girl … you love me. And can I be honest with you?”

  I nod.

  My body is trembling because Dad is off on one of his tangents, but it’s not one drenched in anger and reprimands. It’s one from his heart and to me, that it makes it much deadlier.

  “I love you, too Darbs. Even if you never say it back to me, I want you to know that you’re my favorite girl. You’re the only kid I’ve ever had that’s worth a damn. You take care of me, and because of that, I’ll take care of you as best as I can. Get dressed and go get the kids. I think it’s time we all had that chat you’ve been wanting to avoid.”

  He leans down and presses his lips softly against mine, giving my ass a firm squeeze before he walks out of the room.

  And just like that, he leaves me alone in the bathroom, naked, trembling, and terrified of what’s to come.

  Chapter 11

  My heart is racing as the children sit on the sofa across from me. Dad walks a short line in front of them, looking at each of them in turn, before he scoffs, shakes his head, then comes to sit in the empty spot next to me.

  I immediately take his hand in mine and squeeze it a little too tightly. If I make him uncomfortable enough, it will make him angry, and he’ll send the kids to their rooms. I’ll be left as his mercy, but at the very least, they’ll be able to walk away from this with their psyches unharmed.

  “Ease up there, Darby,” he tells me in an even tone. I don’t. I can’t. Not if I want to keep the family secret safe from three innocent children. Dad coughs a couple of times as he jerks his hand out of my grip, then gives me a stern look.

  Nothing is going to stop him from destroying the fantasy world they’ve been living in. A world where I’m just their mother and not their sister. A world where he’s just their father and not their grandfather.

  How do I stop him?

  “What’s going on?” Richter asks, arching an eyebrow at us curiously.

  “Well—”

  “We just wanted to tell you how much we love you,” I intercede, cutting Dad off before he has a chance to ruin their lives.

  “Oh,” Richter says leaning back against the couch. “Thanks.”

  “No. That’s not what we’re here to talk about,” Dad says in a loud tone, as he leans forward and turns to give me a dangerous glare. “And your mother tells you that she loves you and all you can say is ‘thanks?’’ he asks, turning his attention back to our son.

  Richter looks visibly shaken now. He pulls his feet up onto the couch, wraps his arms around his knees and shrugs as his eyes dart toward me.

  “Get your fucking feet off the couch,” Dad barks at him. “We don’t have nice furniture here just for you to fuck it up.”

  “Sorry,” Richter replies quickly as he drops his feet back to the floor. He’s scared, and in those rare moments when he’s not pretending to be as brave as I try to be, he hugs his legs to his chest to try and hide his fear.

  “Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he begins again as he leans back against the couch and rests a hand on my thigh. “There are some things that me and your mom here need to explain to you.”

  “Please don’t do this,” I whisper, my eyes burning a hole through his hand. “They don’t have to know.”

  “Yes, they do. They have to learn how things work around here,” he snaps at me. He’s getting angry, maybe I still have a chance after all.

  I get to my feet quickly and clap my hands loudly. The children get to their feet and look from me to Dad and back again.

  “What the fuck is this?” he asks, coughing again.

  “Go outside and play,” I tell them in a shaky tone. Dad doesn’t know it, but I’ve been training them too. When I stand and clap, I want them on their feet immediately and to follow my next instruction without worrying about what he’ll say to them. It took a long time to get them to this point and we worked on the fear they felt on the days that Dad would go into town and get groceries.

 

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