Page 16 of Broken Discipline
The principal waved at me. “Mrs. Carter,” she said. “Thank you for your advanced tuition payment.”
I blinked my eyes. This day kept getting weirder and weirder. She was calling me Mrs. Carter now, too, and not Mrs. Astley?
“What advanced tuition payment?” I asked.
“Mr. Carter paid through year twelve,” she said, concern spreading across her brow. “He must have discussed it with you?”
I glanced over my shoulder, finding Finn’s SUV parked a few rows down from my hatchback. He stood outside of the car, leaning against the black exterior. He smoothed a hand over his trimmed beard, reminding me of a brown bear, ready to hunt. Preschool through year twelve must have been close to a million dollars between the twins.
“Right,” I said to the principal. “We love the academy. Thanks.” The twins found their teacher and an invisible hand wrapped around my stomach, crushing my gut. There had to be a reason Finn was trying to control our lives. I didn’t trust him at all.
“Don’t let him on school grounds,” I said. The principal blinked back at me. “Don’t even let him pick them up, all right? Just me. Like always.”
“Mrs. Carter,” she paused, her face softening, “He’s the primary parent on the account. He’s the one who has the power to permit who has permission to pick up the kids from school. I’m afraid that without legal action, I can’t do anything about it.”
My stomach dropped, knives carving into the back of my skull.
“I’ll have to talk with the school board about this,” I said.
“Whatever you need, Mrs. Carter.”
And for the rest of the day, that sinking feeling stayed with me. Finn was never more than a few feet away, always watching me. Always lurking. When I ate lunch. When I went to pick up the kids. As I cooked dinner. It was onlyafterthe twins had gone to bed that I couldn’t find him anywhere.
I let out a breath of relief, but only for a moment. The front doors were locked, and when I checked the few visible divided windows, guards were posted outside, giant rifles cradled in their hands.
We were trapped.
As the hours ticked by, I laid in bed, blinking at the gray ceiling. Cement covered every surface, and if you stared long enough, it was like you were literally drowning inside of an ocean of concrete. I flipped on my stomach. The grandfather clock clicked inside the heart of the house, and I tried to let it soothe me to sleep. Finn was gone. When it came to getting what he wanted, he was full of violence; I was certain of that. But in all honesty, besides buying me from Bruce, he hadn’t done anything to make me suspect him of foul play. At least, not yet.
Unless he hadn’t actually bought me from Bruce.
At two a.m., the house creaked like the front door was opening. I closed my eyes, trying to let it go, to tell myself that I was hearing things. But a presence gathered in the bedroom, the hairs on the back of my neck rising. A spicy cologne filled my nostrils. It wasn’t Finn’s scent.
A man with slicked back white hair peered down at me. Bruce’s cousin, the same man Bruce had told me would take care of me someday. Upchurch. I remembered him no matter how hard I tried to forget.
“Good. You’re doing well,” Upchurch said.
My chest tightened as I jumped out of bed. I grabbed a knife from under my pillow, holding it up to him, silently thanking myself for stealing it from the kitchen.
“Where’s Finn?” I asked. This washishouse. Was Upchurch an intruder, Finn’s accomplice, or was he there to save me?
But being saved by Upchurch, after he had literally used a wooden club to bash my face, didn’t seem like a rescue. It was another trap.
“I’m not his keeper,” he said.
A dizzy spell spun through me. How much anxiety could a person handle in one day?
“Does he know you’re here?” I asked.
“I’m sure he doesnow,” he said. He angled his head, pulling two plastic bags from his pocket: shiny dark brown hair, one set curly, the other straight.
The twins.
I balled my fists. “Stay away from my kids,” I hissed.
“You’re in on it too, aren’t you?” Upchurch said. He stepped closer. “You think you can tamper with what’s mine and get it for yourselves, don’t you?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
