His to Keep by Lydia Goodfellow

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Aweek later, Maisie loses it again. After Father Aaron mentions the dreaded ceremony, she screams and throws her dinner across the room, sneering that he’s a pervert and deserves to rot in hell.

We’re all punished. The reprimand: starvation.

When we get back to the bedroom, I vomit in the bathroom after my stomach turns with anxiety. Callum’s there behind me, rubbing circles on my back, anger coming off him in waves. “I’m going to strangle her.”

“Stop it, Callum,” I groan, leaning back from the toilet bowl and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Tears come, falling from my eyes like an unstoppable waterfall. That’s when I spot Maisie watching us from the doorway.

“Are you happy now?” Callum snarls, seeing her too.

She shakes her head. “I’ve gone hungry before.”

“Not like this, you haven’t.”

Once again, fire enters her eyes, and she gets defensive. But then, so does Callum, and once again, I feel caught in the middle of a war. “You don’t even know me.”

“Thank fuck I don’t.”

She grits her teeth. “I’m not sorry for what I said, but I am so sorry for putting your precious and broken Ava through this.” I wince, every word she says syrupy with sarcasm.

“I’m not broken.”

Scoffing, she turns her back to us and returns to the bedroom. The question lingers in the air. Am I broken?

* * *

By day three,I’m starving. Whimpering, I shiver into the bedsheets even though it’s getting warmer outside now. Callum’s on the floor like last time, and Maisie lies beside me with her back turned. It’s silent, all of us suffering from our empty bellies in our own way.

There’s a shuffling beside me, and with a groan, Maisie turns around. “I hate him,” she whimpers, tears tracking down her face. “How can he get away with this—starving people like this? It…it’s not right.”

I decide not to tell her that I thought the same thing the first time Father Aaron starved me. No point in telling her hating him holds no resolve—it just makes you angrier by how weak you are against the perils of men like him.

“Shouldn’t have provoked him,” Callum argues weakly, eyes closed and head leaning back on the wall.

Ignoring him, Maisie nudges my arm. “I don’t want to think. Tell me something.”

“Like what?”

“Your f-family.” She tenses when her stomach grumbles. “Do you miss them?”

“Yes,” I lie because I don’t feel like explaining my family to her. “I lived with my Gran. My parents are in the city working.”

“Oh,” she murmurs. “How did Matthew get to you?” Sensing my confusion, she adds. “He got inside my dad’s head. You see, he’s not been right since my mom died. Even moving to Gravestone didn’t help.” Gravestone is the next town from Little Willow. “He randomly joined this support group for grieving families the church was running. Then he was suddenly into God when he’s never been bothered before. Started going to church and everything. I thought he’d lost his mind when he ordered bibles to put in all the drawers in the house. But I’ve thought and thought about it. This is how Matthew chooses his victims. By being able to manipulate their family members in some way. I’d even go as far to say that he got to your Gran.”

Unlike I did, Maisie seems to have delved into the dark territories inside her mind. The ones I keep pushing away, not wanting to think about all the lies and schemes. I even feel stupid for not thinking of it that way and admire her bravery when I’ve been nothing but a coward to confront them. Her theory could be correct. Gran was fond of Father Aaron. Always thanking him after mass and quoting his preaching’s word for word whenever the opportunity arose. Not only that, but Father Aaron used her as a commodity to rule me. She’s partly the reason why I had to fall in line. Was she easy to manipulate after losing Grandpa?

“I think that’s exactly what happened,” Maisie says resolutely. “My dadeven invited Matthew to our house for dinner.” She sounds disgusted by this, and I don’t blame her. I would’ve been too. “I knew he was a creep the moment I first saw him. He kept staring at me. He didn’t care about my dad—he was only there to perve on me.”

I sigh deeply from the troubled frown between her perfect eyebrows. “You blame your dad?”

“Doesn’t matter if I do or not.” She sniffles. “I’m not relying on him. My boyfriend will find me. And who knows? Maybe your parents are searching for you right now.”

At this, Callum’s shoulders bunch up, tensing as he listens to every word that Maisie says. Is he affected by that idea? That someone out there could be searching for me to take me away?

“Maybe…”

She grabs my arm. “They are—we both have to believe.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “You and I can fight. We can get out of here. We just have to be smart.” I’m about to shake my head when she squeezes my arm even tighter. “He is one of them.”

I know she means Callum, and a spark of annoyance shoots through me.

“He isn’t,” I whisper back, not wanting Callum to know that we’re talking about him. He’d feel betrayed, and weirdly, I do feel like I am betraying him.

She groans with exasperation. “Ava—”

“No,” I say, more forcibly this time. “He’s trying to keep us alive. Try and listen to what he says, or we’ll all die.”

Her eyes darken, as they do when she disagrees. “We will die. He’ll live, and they’ll take more girls for him to break.”

There’s a shuffle, and Callum gets up. I know he heard everything when he staggers to the bathroom and closes the door so hard the room shakes.

“You really trust him?” Maisie pushes.

“He’s never hurt me.” Not physically. I bite my lip.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She’s right, I didn’t, and I’m not going to. She’d never understand. Because I’m not even sure I do.

* * *

On day five,the bedroom might as well be a mortuary. I cling onto a life that I feel slowly slipping away from me. We’ve never surpassed five days without food, and as the minutes tick by, I think Father Aaron might’ve forgotten all about us. Changed his mind and just wants to get rid of the teenagers he keeps prisoner in his house.

But food is brought to the room by Penny in a hamper in the afternoon. Once again, she’s supervised by John, who seems to enjoy the sight of us weak and immobile, paying particular interest to Maisie and me lying in bed next to each other. Glad that I can’t read his mind, Penny puts the hamper on the desk and leaves. Taking his time, John eventually follows and closes the door.

Maisie groans in her sleep as I nudge her to wake up. Eyes flickering open, she swallows, her lips dry and flaky. “What?”

“Food.”

Callum drags himself up from the ground using the bedpost and stumbles over to the basket, taking out three plates covered with foil. He gives me one first, and then Maisie with his jaw clenched. But she doesn’t notice as she rips off the foil, revealing a potato and salmon dinner with a mixture of green veg.

Even though the fish is dry and the potatoes are difficult to swallow, we eat in silence. The only sound is our chewing as we stuff our faces. When we clear our plates, our grumbly bellies are still unsatisfied, but at least it’s something.

That night, I shut myself inside the bathroom to have a hot shower. As I undress, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, cringing by how visible my bones are. No longer able to stand the sight, I get into the shower. Lathering my skin with sweet-smelling soap, I wash. I do it again. Three times. A fourth. Shutting off the water, I dry myself with the towel. As I start dressing, the door softly opens and closes behind me.

It’s Callum.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, but he says nothing.

Gliding across the bathroom, he cups my face with both hands and kisses me. I melt into him but then pull away. “M-Maisie.”

“She’s asleep.” I bow my head, gripping onto the towel. He notices. “What is it?”

“I…I look awful,” I say, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

“You do not. You’re beautiful—you don’t even know how much.” He kisses me again, backing me up against the wall. My heart thumps hard and fast as I let go of the towel and put my arms around his neck, kissing him back. His breathing shakes as I press my naked self against him, taking delight in teasing him as he clenches his teeth, his erection poking my stomach.

Once again, I’m overcome with emotion. I missed this. I’ve missed him so much, and I think he’s missed me too.

“I hate this,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb against my cheekbone. “I hate not being able to come near you.”

Standing on my tippy toes, we kiss until our lips feel bruised. Running my fingers through his hair, I grip onto him as he kisses and sucks my neck, sending multiple shivers through me.

“Fuck’s sake.” He pulls away, and I know we have to stop even though neither of us wants to. With a groan, he grabs my nightdress and dresses me. Holding the comb, he turns me and gently runs it through my hair.

“It’s gotten long,” he says, unknotting my hair so gently it relaxes me. Closing my eyes, my entire body pulses, and I have visions of pushing him down on the floor and—

My face burns hotter than fire. There’s no way. Not with Maisie in the other room.

Putting the comb down, I sense him coming closer once again. Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I groan when he places a kiss on my collarbone.

“I want you so bad,” he whispers, his breath hot on my skin.

“I want you too.”

But we both know we can’t, and it only makes it worse.