His to Keep by Lydia Goodfellow
Chapter Five
Hours pass slowly. After what happened, the hope of leaving painfully drifts away, and all I do is sit on the bed and cry. Callum hasn’t spoken another word to me since we came back. After cleaning the blood off his face, he sat at his desk and has ignored me since. When seven makes an appearance on the small clock on the wall, my insides clench with unease. Footsteps sound on the stairs, and when the door opens, John bounds inside, a force that makes the entire room shudder.
“Dinner. Get up.”
My body tenses, knowing having dinner is the last thing I want. “Please let me go home. Or at least let me call—”
“Shut up, bitch.” He glares at me. “I don’t give a fuck what you want. Get up or starve.”
Moving across the room, Callum stands beside me, a silent warning flashing in his eyes. Move. Letting out a shaky breath, I shuffle forward.
“Come the fuck on.” Grabbing my arm, John forces me quicker out of the room. We go back downstairs, past the lounge, and down another dark, slender hallway. The scent of food hangs in the air as we enter a dining room lit with candles. Blood-red walls and the dark floor make it look hellish. A long wooden table sits in the middle of the room with a clashing centerpiece of white roses. What adds to the strange room is Father Aaron himself, sitting proudly at the head of the table, like some powerful king.
“Do you like the roses?” He looks directly at me as John pushes me to the seat that’s next to him. He’s smiling again, and I visibly shudder. “They reminded me of you.”
I want to tell him I don’t care about the roses, but I look down uncomfortably. The roses are as out of place as I am. We both don’t belong here. My shoulders shake, more tears splashing down my cheeks as Callum takes the seat beside me and John opposite. Penny comes into the room from another door, hair wild and frizzy around her small, flushed face. I watch as she carefully places a hotpot on top of the table and takes off the lid. Craning his neck, Father Aaron peers inside with a raised eyebrow. “What is it?”
“Meatloaf, my Lord,” she whispers, and I lift my head.
My Lord?
“Yum,” John grumbles under his breath, and Penny sneers at him from behind her hair. With a roll of his eyes, Father Aaron holds up his plate first, and she takes it from him, filling the dish with a slob of food first. After placing it in front of him, he takes my plate next and shoves it at her. Once mine, Callum, and John’s plates are filled, Penny sits opposite and stares down at her lap, not making one for herself.
“Let’s say grace,” Father Aaron announces, drawing his hands together in prayer. The rest follow suit, and not wanting to draw attention to myself, I put my hands together, only to realize how badly they’re shaking. “Bless us, O’ Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive, through Christ our Lord, amen.”
There’s a chorus of murmured “amen” around the table, and John’s the first to pick up his fork. Cutlery scrapes against the plate as he stabs into the meatloaf and shovels it into his mouth. His face scrunches with disgust, and he dramatically spits it back out into a napkin. “Disgusting.”
“Shut up,” Penny hisses back, eyes abnormally wide. Twisting her head, she faces me, and I cringe away. “Try it, Ava. Go on.”
Vomit balls in my stomach at the sight of the stodgy cutting of meat before me. Father Aaron hasn’t taken his eyes off me, not once, and my stomach rolls. I’m not sure if it’s my imagination when Callum tenses beside me, the room remaining silent as I bring the fork to my mouth. The moment the meat hits my tongue, something disgustingly sour explodes in my mouth. Gagging, I spit it back onto my plate as John bursts out laughing.
Father Aaron drops his fork, the clatter cutting the tension like a knife. Eyes shining with irritation, he turns to Penny, who has her head bowed and a smile stretched over her lips.
“What is the meaning of this?” She giggles when he stands, the chair scraping back against the floorboards. Slamming both hands on the table, he roars, “Answer me!”
Her shoulders shake with laughter, her teeth bearing like a crazed animal. “Satan disguises himself as an angel of the light. Satan is among us, my Lord, and he will condemn you.”
Leaning his head back, John cackles even louder as I stare at Penny with disbelief. What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with these people?
Father Aaron suddenly reaches out and catches a handful of her hair. Yanking her head back fiercely, he grabs a mound of meat from his plate and mashes it into her face, forcing two fingers into her throat. She wails and gags, but he doesn’t stop. “Poisoned the food again, did you? You’re getting predictable.” I stare down at my plate in shock. It’s poisoned? Penny suddenly crashes to the floor. “Get out of my sight! I’ll punish you later.”
She crawls away on her hands and knees, but I swear she’s still giggling as she does. Taking a handkerchief out of his left pocket, Father Aaron cleans his hand. His eyes stare past me, to a door I hadn’t notice before now. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but I don’t like it. It’s just an ordinary door, yet there’s something not so ordinary about it.
“Take Ava back to her room,” Father Aaron says calmly, and Callum immediately stands, fingers stealing my arm. When I don’t move right away, he pinches my skin. Move!
As he tugs me out of my seat, I can’t help but peer back, watching Father Aaron open the door and slip inside complete darkness. Once back upstairs, Callum nudges me inside and shuts the door behind us.
“What’s through that door?” He doesn’t answer or even look at me. Ignoring me completely, he goes into the bathroom and shuts himself inside. Water gushing from the faucet sounds seconds later as I sit on the bed. My chest grows heavy with emotion, and my vision blurs. Shoulder’s trembling, I burst into tears, hating this. I want to go home. Why won’t they let me go?
By the clock on the wall, it’s nearing eight. Has Gran realized I’m missing? Dread seeps in. Maybe she won’t think I’ve been taken. That I’ve refused to come home and chosen the devil’s path instead.
Please, God, don’t let her think that.
Closing my eyes, I picture her standing at the door with the police. They’re taking down my details, hopefully getting a photograph of me from her, so they know who they’re searching for. And by the end of tonight, everyone will know that I’m missing and will be looking for me. The police will make the connection to Father Aaron, and I will be saved. I have tobe saved.
My body jumps with fright when a door opens, but I’m relieved when it’s the bathroom door and not Father Aaron or John. Stalking into the room, paler than before, Callum’s back curves slightly as he goes over to the desk and sits. Wiping tears from my face, I go over to the window. Pressing my forehead against the cool glass pane, I hope it’ll calm me and help me think. But I’m momentarily distracted by the orange and red hues filling the dusky sky as night descends. Seeing outside so close brings a new wave of tears, and I pray to God to help me. Only he never heard me before. Why would he now?
* * *
Somewhere in the distance,a clock strikes midnight, jolting me from a restless sleep. The eerie noise makes me shudder as I open my eyes. There’s a candle lit on the desk, offering a bit of light. I groan in pain, my neck stiff from being huddled in the corner of the room. I don’t remember falling asleep, and as I look at the clock, I can’t believe it’s been nine hours since I was taken.
Callum’s in the same spot he fell asleep in, though he isn’t awake. With his back hunched over the desk, his head is buried in his arms, and his soft snores fill the deathly silence. Knowing he’s no longer watching me I could try and escape again. I should try but thinking of doing it now scares me. I don’t know where the rest of the family is or if they’re even asleep. How will I know which direction to take in the dark if I make it outside? And worse, what will happen if I’m caught?
For now, I side with the part that says it’s too risky and decide to take care of something else. Getting up, I shuffle around Callum, freezing when a floorboard creaks beneath my foot. Thankfully, he sleeps on, undisturbed by my movement. When I reach the bathroom, I close the door behind me and run my hand against the clammy tiles, searching for a light switch. When I find it, I flip it on, squinting when the lamp flickers above me. The house does have electricity. How odd that they don’t seem to use it. The bulb’s even missing from the ceiling in the bedroom.
It’s cold in here, and it chills my spine as I take in the tiny bathroom. There’s nothing about it that should warrant the pang of uncertainty. I suppose a little dirty, but otherwise, it’s a regular bathroom I shouldn’t be so wary of. As I go to the toilet to relieve my bladder, I’m skeptical of the shadows in the corners, and I can’t help the overwhelming feeling I’m being watched.
The toilet lets out a monster roar when I pull the chain. As I wash my hands, I catch my reflection in the mirror above the sink. Lifting my hand, I gently brush my fingers against the dark bruise forming on my cheek from where John hit me, wincing when it hurts to touch. A girl I’ve never seen before stares back as I drop my hand. I look shocked. Terrified. My navy-blue eyes are red and swollen from crying, and my hair a tangled mess, falling messily past my shoulders, and I resemble a ghost in this dress.
Not able to bear the sight of myself any longer, I turn away from the mirror. Seeing the fear in my eyes and the bruise on my face makes this all so real. For dreams don’t leave marks—not even nightmares.
With despair squeezing my chest, I put my hand over my mouth to muffle my cries. Everything will be okay. I’ll talk to Father Aaron tomorrow. Get him to try and see how wrong this is. Maybe he doesn’t recognize what he’s done.
Making my way over to the door, I pull it open, knocking off the bathroom light. As I step into the room, a pale hand shoots out of the darkness and wraps around my neck. Gasping with terror, I’m pulled forward and slammed up against a wall. It’s Callum. He has hold of me. Only, right now, he looks different. Like he’s not entirely awake.
“Stop!” I claw at his hand, my nails leaving scratch marks on his skin. “Please.”
Suddenly, he blinks. His hand around my throat loosens as recognition crosses over his features. Snatching his hand away from my neck, he stumbles back. Despite the distance, I keep my back pressed against the wall, afraid to move.
“I’m sorry,” he surprises me by apologizing, shaking his head, as if even he’s in shock. “I thought you were someone else.”
“Who?” My fingers graze my sore neck, and his brow wrinkles as he takes two steps back.
“No one.” He sits and turns away from me, running his hands over his face.
I’m wide awake now, exhaustion replaced with confusion. He said sorry, and I don’t know what to make of it. He’d looked startled when I opened the door, and I saw it all—fear and anger. At least until he realized it was me.
Pushing my hair from my face, I avoid the bed and retreat to the corner I was occupying before. As I sit, Callum glances at me, and I stare back. But once again, he looks away and goes back to staring at the wall. I can’t help feeling a stab of annoyance at his silence. Why does he look at me as if he’s going to say something but doesn’t?
“Callum?” I surprise myself by saying his name. He doesn’t turn to face me, but I know he hears me. “May I ask a question?”
My heart skips a beat when he turns to me, but his expression nearly has me losing my nerve. He’s glowering, despite nodding for me to go on.
“Why am I here?” His answer is silence. “Please tell me.” No reply. I clench my fists, pain biting my palms as my nails dig into my hand. “Say something.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
The back of my throat aches and more tears threaten to spill. Slumping against the wall, I give up. Maybe he’s right. Nothing he tells me will give me any hope. I know it, and so does he.