Page 8 of Roses Are Dead
I nodded.
Carl didn’t smile. “We’re visiting Beth today.”
Right. The stem cell donation and hopefully the end to this horror show. I scrambled out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans before anything else. Carl watched me fumble with the process of pulling my nightgown off from under the cilice. As the fibers met my bare skin, I flinched. There were jagged pieces woven into the wool. Hair, or something sharper poked at my skin, causing it to twitch in irritation. But I knew better than to scratch because, while I’d never seen one, I’d heard about their torturous results.
From the Devil himself.
Carl smiled and took a step closer. I froze.
He ran a hand down the wool, caressing it, not me. I held my breath as he swept over my breast.
His eyes locked with mine and his hand stilled…there. Slowly, his fingers curled and dug in.
I clamped my teeth shut so I wouldn’t cry out. This wasn’t about sex. It was about control. My tears or my pain would egg him on. I detached my body from my spirit. I let that unnatural beast shine through my eyes. He could never touch that. No matter how degrading he got, my will would only hate him more. Eventually, I’d kill him.
Maybe tomorrow? It begged to be set loose.
Two months. That was the maximum span to confirm his stem cells multiplied inside Beth and formed her own healthy blood cells. I could do this.
Especially since after today, I’d be free of him. I’d promised Beth I’d leave.
I’d be her slave forever if it kept me away from Carl. I’d be anyone’s slave if they kept me out of Carl’s “tender” clutches.
He let go. “Blue shirt. Wear the cross.”
Like hell I’d wear the jewelry. “The clasp is broken.” I’d done that when I returned that night. He couldn’t force me to pretend piety.
He dug inside the jewelry box he’d purchased when all my blessed jewelry went missing in the move.
When he found the cross, he looked at the broken clasp and the empty slot where the pin should be. I’d lost it in the floorboards. Tragic… not.
“You did this.”
That wasn’t a question. And moreover, the real question was, “Do you dare to defy me?”
“Yes.”
He wrapped it around his hand. The frail gold chain snapped as he made a fist.
I waited for him to hit me.
But he thought through what that would do. Beth would notice. Moreover, her husband, John, would. And he’d call the cops, without hesitation. I doubted Carl wanted to spend his next two months in jail.
My tormentor’s mouth curved upward. “After.”
Whatever. I kicked the delay can down the road, hoping I could appease him enough to soften the blow.
I put on the plain, button-down, blue shirt. It was too tight to wear without a bra. The cilice helped to smooth the front panels and hide my nipples. But that only meant that the added pressure poked the sharper fibers into my skin with more pain. I bore it knowing after the hospital visit, there would be worse.
His mom hugged me, then frowned. “You’re not wearing a bra.” Her tone clearly implied I was a morally loose person for it.
“Your son wanted it that way.”
“Carl!” The admonition was sharp. I refrained from showing any emotion because it would be misconstrued.
“She has a rash, mother. I was looking out for her comfort, that’s all.”
It was amazing how easily he lied.
