Page 41 of The Hunted

“Get up. There’s a shower and bathroom behind that door,” he says as he points toward the wall behind me, “and a change of clothes waiting on you. You will bathe and change. Then come up stairs to the solarium. We will discuss your future.”

I can’t even stand to hear his voice.

I launch myself from the floor toward him, and he punches me in the nose before I can even get close enough to touch him. I fall to the ground, and he kicks me in the stomach.

“Do as I say, Knox. Now.”

I hear my mother’s voice in my ear.

Survive.

I do as I’m told and shuffle off to shower.

When I make my way to the solarium, my father sits at the table with breakfast in front of him, reading the paper. Like the last couple of days never happened. As if he didn’t just murder my mom, his wife. The woman he vowed to love and protect until death. I think of a thousand ways to kill him as I walk to the chair across from him and sit down.

“Eat,” he instructs me without even looking up from the god damn paper.

Survive.

I eat as we sit in silence. I finish and scoot my chair back to stand. The legs scrape across the floor, breaking the silence.

“Sit,” he orders as if I am a dog. I guess I am. I am less than a dog to this man. I grit my teeth and do as he says.

“We will begin your training tomorrow. Today, you rest, regain your strength. Go to the cellar. Be ready at 5:00 a.m. Someone will come get you.”

Just like a good little dog, I obey.

Survive.

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