So many drills and never the chance to actually try it had me a little weary, but they don’t disappoint me and run out of the room.

  “Do not go out that front door,” Dad booms as he gets to his feet.

  “Go outside and play!” I shout.

  A loud crack splits the air as I stumble slightly and lift a hand to my cheek. Dad’s hit me before, but never this hard, never in such a rage, and never where the kids might be able to see. I lick my lower lip and feel the copper taste of blood, then shake my head and stand back up to my full height.

  “Mom?” Skylar asks uncertainly. She sounds terrified, and instead of breaking my heart like it normally does, it makes me angry.

  It means they saw.

  And the only way to rectify the fear they’re feeling is to do the unthinkable.

  I pull an arm back and slap Dad as hard as I can, watch him stumble, and then fall onto the couch, a look of shock and appreciation on his face once he’s had a chance to shake away the disbelief.

  “See, that is why I love you so damn much,” he says with a grin. “Because you’re not afraid of me, but I’ll tell you what, little girl. If you ever raise a hand to me again, you’ll find out how much of a bastard I can really be.”

  “Tell them to go outside,” I shoot back defiantly.

  Dad tilts his head to the left, looks me up and down for a moment, then sucks his teeth as he gets back up to his feet.

  He walks past me and heads toward where the living room opens into the foyer and looks down at our children.

  “You mind what your mother tells you to do,” he instructs them, putting a hand on his hip.

  The children quickly scramble out the front door, with Richter tightly holding onto Cleo’s hand and dragging her out behind him. She was crying, yelling that she didn’t want to go, but she’s not the hero of our story.

  I am.

  Chapter 12

  Dad’s hair is balled in a fist in my hand. He has me on the couch, legs spread open, his tongue buried deep inside of me and I’m trying so hard not to feel good about what he’s doing to me.

  I shouldn’t.

  I know I shouldn’t, but the body will react to things that bring it pleasure no matter how desperately the person that it belongs to what’s nothing more than to just die.

  He moans as he pulls his tongue out of me and gets to his feet. Leaning down he crushes his lips against mine, kissing me like a hungry animal, and uses a finger to force me to open my mouth. I think of biting him for just a moment, but I don’t. Now is not the time to be a hero, now is the time to give him what he needs.

  His tongue makes its way into my mouth and I try not to cringe. Not because he’s kissing me like this—I’m used to it. No, it’s because I can taste myself on his lips, his tongue, in his hunger, and I don’t know if I can take it much longer.

  He must take notice because when he finally pulls away, he chuckles lightly then begins to undo the buckle on his pants.

  “You know I have to punish you for being a bad girl, don’t you?” he asks in bated breaths. “How long did you think you get away with mouthing off to me before I turned you over my knee?”

  What?

  Dad pulls his belt loose with the flick of his wrist, and when his pants fall off, he steps out of them. I can see his erection pressing against his briefs and I look up into his eyes.

  Is he going to fuck me or flog me?

  Whack!

  Another lash from his leather belt. By this point I’ve counted twenty and he shows no signs of stopping. I’m sure that I’m bruised and bloodied at this point, but I won’t give in. He wants me to beg him to stop and I won’t do it.

  “This is getting boring now, Darbs,” he says as he reaches for my hair and pulls my head up roughly. “You about ready to move on since you suddenly seem to be such a little bad ass?”

  I grunt and as best as I can, causing him to let go. He slaps my bare ass with his hand and as I move to get to my feet, he tsk, tsks, and pulls me back down onto the couch.

  Onto him.

  “Lift your head up and say your prayers,” he instructs nonchalantly.

  My prayers? Since when have you taught me a single prayer?

  I do as I’m told because that’s just how it works under his roof. I fold my hands in front of my chest, raise my eyes to God and wonder what I could possibly say that will save us from this Hell.

  “Good girl,” he whispers, running a finger down my throat. “You go ahead and play the righteous little bitch like Taylee did and see how far it gets you.”

  It’s a trick—the moment he mentions his mother, I know that it’s a trap and I’ve walked right into it. Within no time, the belt is wrapped around my neck and Dad’s amused laughter makes my skin crawl.

  He’s going to kill me, I know he is.

  The poetic thing about dying is that I’m not afraid of what comes after. I’m afraid of what I’m leaving behind and with who.

  My hands immediately begin to claw at the belt, but Dad tightens even more, cutting off my oxygen. I gasp deeply, filling my lungs with air and the burn is almost enough to make me piss myself.

  “Taylee always thought that her little whispered prayers would be answered. She made me pray sometimes too, but you know what I learned after all that time on my knees?” he asks, using the belt to pull me closer to him. The heat coming from him is enough to make a small bead of sweat roll down the side of my face. “Do you?”

  I close my eyes tightly and shake my head as best as I can.

  “How she liked to have her pussy eaten,” he replies with a light laugh. “That crazy bitch never passed up the chance to have me service her hole, and I learned my place with her really fucking fast after a while.”

  So that’s where this all started. That’s when Dad became a monster.

  “I don’t want to have to be like this with you, Darby—I don’t. But I’ve had my fill of disrespectful fucking children and it ends now. Do you understand me?” he admonishes sternly.

  I nod, my fingers still trying to wedge some space between the belt and my throat, and when he leans back, the leather strap falls away from my neck.

  I fall against him, sucking in deep breaths, my eyes watering as my lungs fight for the air they had just been deprived of. Dad wraps his arms around me, resting one of his hands on the small of my back and the other on my ass. He kisses my forehead gently and rubs his lips against my skin, holding me against him.

  In other circumstances, someone would mistake us for a real father and daughter sharing a moment, in others, they’d mistake us for lovers freshly coming down from a quarrel.

  “You should have just let me tell them, Darbs. It could have been smooth sailing from here,” Dad says thoughtfully.

  “I don’t want them to know. Ever,” I reply quietly as I put a hand on his chest and push myself away from him. “If you really love me as much as you say you do, then promise me that they’ll never find out.”

  Dad smirks and rolls his eyes.

  “Are you really gonna do this chick shit with me right now? ‘If you really love me’ is such a bullshit thing to say, kid. Especially after I told you that I do. But there’s something you need to remember, Darby. It doesn’t matter how I feel about you because this is still my fucking house and we follow my rules.”

  I feel the anger rise inside of me but instead of acting on it, I nod and decide that this is one of those times that I’ll have to concede a battle if I want to win the war.

  “Sorry,” I mumble as I attempt to get to my feet, but Dad pulls me back against him.

  “We’re not done here,” he says evenly. I swallow the sigh that I can feel begging for release and put my hands on his shoulders. I wait for the next instruction that I have no doubt will come; however, he just reaches for me and rests my head against his chest.

  “I’m too tired to fuck, but holding you always feel nice,” he murmurs, clearing his throat harshly. “I was wondering, though …”

  His voice trails off and I close my eyes. Nothing good ever comes from his “wondering” about anything.

  “What’s that, Daddy?” I ask him quietly.

  “Do you think it would be a bad idea if the next time we were together, we had the girl watch us? I mean, eventually this arrangement of ours has to come to an end and I don’t want to have start this damn training all over again. I think watching would be a better way to learn anyway, and if she does a good enough job, she can take your place right away and we can be a proper family.”

  “What?” I ask, attempting to pull away from him. I feel sick. I don’t know if he means Skylar or Cleo, but it doesn’t matter to me. I don’t want him touching our daughters—or son—the way he does me.

  A low, amused rumble escapes from deep within his chest as he tightens his grip on me. His hand finds its way back to my ass where he lets it rest gently and he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

  “You’re too wound up, Darbs. I was joking. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna give you up so easily. I just wanted to see what you would say is all. And to be honest, I don’t want any more kids. I think we’re perfect the way we are, don’t you?”

  I turn my face and bury my head in his chest.

  If this is a perfect family, then I hope that before it’s too late, that we start to fracture and fray. I hope that the symmetry of perfection becomes so damaged that he’ll finally understand what he’s done to me.

  To my mother.

  To her brothers.

  To himself.

  Chapter 13

  Dinner is predominantly quiet and stoic. We’re all seated at the table and I’m helping Cleo with her plate under Dad’s disapproving watch. I haven’t forgotten that he told me that I get to spend a night with her alone, and after all I’ve endured today—mentally, as well as physically—I think he knows that he’ll be spending tonight alone in his bed.

  I hate that he looks at her with such disdain, I hate that he won’t even give her a chance. She’s a beautiful little girl, inside and out, but he just can’t see past the imperfections from years of fucking the same branch on the family tree.

  “Momma?”

  I smile down at Cleo when she says my name and reach for the cloth napkin in her lap. She’s gotten quite a bit of food on her face, and she’s always so worried that she’ll make more of a mess of herself trying to clean up. She worries more than she should about a lot of things her age, which is why I don’t want them to ever know the truth about this family.

  Richter would become angry and lash out.

  Skylar would more than likely try to run away and tell someone.

  And my darling Cleo.

  She wouldn’t understand and wonder if she did something wrong.

  “Cleo,” Dad begins conversationally. “Did you still want to have that sleep over with your Momma?”

  “Yes, please,” she replies excitedly.

  Dad’s eyes wander toward me slowly, a smile creasing his lips, and I can feel my heart start pounding rapidly.

  He’s up to something.

  “I think I’ll join you,” he finally says, a wide grin on his face as he turns his attention back toward her. Cleo looks proud—I feel sick. She probably thinks she’s finally won her father’s affections, but I’m worried about which affections those happen to be.

  Do you think it would be a bad idea if the next time we were together, we had the girl watch us? His question comes crashing back down over me with hurricane force winds and I have to bite my lip to keep from outright crying.

  “We’re almost out of food,” I blurt out. I don’t know if that’s entirely true, but I know that it will buy us some time. Dad never lets us run out of necessities and he hasn’t been to town in a while. I know he’ll believe me without bothering to double check. If I’m wrong, I’ll get punished, if I’m right, I’ll have a chance to figure out how to save the children.

  “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asks giving me a puzzled look. “I’m gonna be out almost all damn night now trying to find a twenty-four-hour grocery store, Darbs.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

  He rolls his eyes as he pushes his chair back and gets to his feet. Dad leaves the dining room without a word, and I look at each of the children in turn. Do I tell them? Do I let them know the hell that I’ve endured to keep them safe?

  No, I tell myself, letting out a heavy sigh. That wouldn’t be fair to them; it’s not their fault that their father is so irrevocably broken.

  And if I really want to be honest with myself then I have to concede the fact that it’s not his fault either.

  “Darby!” Dad calls out as he makes his way toward the front door.

  I smile at my children, run a hand over Cleo’s hair, and tell them to finish their supper.

  “Yes?” I ask when I join him in the foyer.

  “I’ll try not to be gone for too long,” he says, jingling his truck keys in his hand thoughtfully, “but there’s something I want you to know.”

  I clasp my hands in front of myself, and arch an eyebrow.

  “I’m not going into town alone this time. It’s a long, arduous ride, and I’m gonna take one of them to talk to me and help me stay awake on the way back.”

  My chest begins to constrict.

  This is our chance.

  If he takes one of the children, they’ll more than likely become so enamored with what they see that they might slip up about never leaving the house. They might tell someone where we are, and if someone, anyone, comes to look for us, I might be brave enough to tell them what kind of man Dad really is.

  “Okay,” I say quietly. “Do you want me to get Richter or Skylar ready?”

  Dad gives me a shit-eating grin as he slowly shakes his head. It’s like a punch in the gut now that I understand. He won’t take either of them because they would be the ones to ask questions and maybe say more than they should. Even though they don’t know what I’ve been through, they know that I’ve been in the oubliette, and they know that’s wrong.

  Cleo doesn’t understand as much as they do and she’s so desperate to please her father, that she’ll do anything he tells her to.

  “What if I say no?” I question, defiantly raising my chin and trying my best to not look like I’m about to burst into tears.

  “You know damn well that I’m going to take her anyway. And if you start mouthing off to me, you’ll go back down into the fucking ground until I feel like seeing you again. Do you really want to leave those kids alone with dear ole Dad?” he asks with a sinister smirk appearing on his face.

  I don’t let my chin drop.

  I square my shoulders.

  I do my best not to cry, but his threats are usually worse than his actions. He uses them to control me because he knows that those kids mean more to me than he does.

  He’s jealous, and because of that, he’ll do what he has to in order to be the primary recipient of my affections.

  “Now go on in there and tell her to come out,” he commands with a nod. “I’ll help her with her coat, and we’ll be back in no time.”

  “Promise me that you won’t hurt her,” I say quietly. I look up into his golden-brown eyes. I drink in his amusement and frustration at being questioned, and I look hopelessly for the father that I know he can sometimes be.

  The caring, doting father that wants to do right by his children without causing them any harm.

  “Scout’s honor,” he finally says with a chuckle. “Now be a good mommy and explain to her that she’s coming with me. I don’t want to have her blubbering the entire time thinking she’s done something wrong.”

  I push my hair behind my ears. I hold his gaze for a moment longer, and when he finally softens some, I turn my back to him and go into the dining room. I know that Richter will be upset that he doesn’t get to spend time with his father, and I know that Skylar will more than likely feel a little twinge of jealousy that Dad “picked” Cleo over her.

  I wonder if this is how Jocelyn felt, I think as I sit down in my chair next to Cleo and pull her into my lap. I hold her tightly as I run my hand over her hair and give her the news that she’ll be going into town to help her daddy. I make her promise me that she’ll stay by his side and not wander off because of how sad I would be if something happened to her.

  Once I’m sure she understands, once I admonish the other two over their blatant jealousy of not being “picked”, I put Cleo on her feet and walk her into the foyer where Dad is waiting.

  “You wanna go to town with Daddy?” he asks her, getting down on one knee with her coat in his hands.

  “Yes, please,” she replies excitedly.

  He nods and clears his throat as he helps her into her coat, then zips it up to her neck, giving the tip of her nose a gentle tap with the tip of his finger. She blushes a very innocent shade of crimson and giggles. My heart feels like it’s breaking but I do my best to contain myself because he promised me.

  “Alright,” he finally says as he gets to his feet and picks Cleo up, securing her in his arms. “Tell your Momma, good-bye now.”

  “Bye, Momma!” she says excitedly.

  “Good-bye, baby,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “We’ll be back,” Dad says with a nod as he opens the front door and walks out of the house. Cleo turns her head, glancing at me over his shoulder, and waves with a big smile on her face.

  I raise my hand and return the wave briefly, wondering how it is that I had it in me to willingly let her go with him.

  Chapter 14

  The night air is cool, and I’m not dressed to be out here, but I haven’t been able to sleep. After Dad and Cleo left, I had Richter and Skylar clear the table, then sent them straight to bed because I didn’t want them to see the absolute panic that had settled over me.

 

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