Page 112 of Depravity

“Conrad wants it.” I explain. Why is it so complicated? I’m not broken anymore. I’m fixed now.

My father shakes his head. “I never want to hear his name again, do you hear me?” He growls.

Why is he so angry? Conrad is my husband. It’s my duty to do what he wants, we all know that.

“Where is he? Where is my husband?” I ask.

It’s Ingrid who slaps me. Her hand strikes the same cheek, and this time it makes tears stream from my eyes and down my face.

“He is not your husband. Not anymore.” She snaps.

“Yes, he is.” I know he is. I know it. He dressed me up and dragged me down that aisle and then the priest…

My father sighs, walking over to me, and kneels in front of the chair. “Brynn, I know this is all very confusing, but we have your best interests at heart. We’re going to protect you now.”

“Protect me from who?”

His hand comes up to cup my cheek. “Do you trust me?”

I don’t know him, I don’t know any of these people. I blink back, unsure what to say. I only trust my husband. But then he took my legs, didn’t he? He took my wiggling toes too.

“Conrad is a bad man.” My father explains. “He has done a lot of bad things, and he’s hurt you.”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Brynn…”

“He did that because I was bad. But I’m not bad now, I’m fixed. I’m all fixed.”

Ingrid makes an exasperated sound, and my eyes dart to her.

“You saw,” I state. “You saw me, at our home…”

“I saw you.” She says. “You were lying in a puddle of your own piss after he’d beaten you so badly you couldn’t even walk.”

I don’t remember that. I don’t… the rug had been so soft. I like soft. Conrad is soft now. Conrad likes me now.

“She’s a nutter.” The bald man laughs.

“What do you expect?” Ingrid replies. “She’s been in his dirty grasp for months now.”

Months. Months. I’ve been with Conrad for months. Magnus asked me how long we’d been married.

“Months.” I repeat.

My father waves his hand in front of my face, catching my attention once more.

“We’re going to fix you, Brynn. We’re going to take care of you.” He states.

But Conrad fixed me. I don’t need more fixing.

The feeling of being held down, of having my eyelids prised open hits me. I shake my head, shake it so violently. There’ssomething there. Something behind my eyes. It’s pushing too hard. It’s going to break me.

“Make it stop.” I scream suddenly. “Make it stop. Make it stop.”

My hands claw at my skin, my nails dig into those awful bruises. My father grabs hold of me, wrenching my arms back.

“It’s okay.” He says, but it’s not. The doctor is there, he’s right there, digging into my skull, taking out the bits he doesn’t like.

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