His to Keep by Lydia Goodfellow
Chapter Six
I’m wrenched awake when rough hands shake me from my sleep. When my eyes fly open, I’m horrified to see Father Aaron crouched in front of me, anger mottling his expression. Fear that stupidly drifted away in my sleep comes back worse. All hope this was a nightmare disappears in an instant. There’s no time to prepare as he drags me off the floor by my arm, hurting me as I catch my footing. Callum’s awake too, emotionless mask in place as he stands.
“Why were you sleeping on the floor?” Father Aaron’s tone is brittle as he addresses me, and I recall his rule about me sleeping in the bed and Callum on the floor—which neither of us did. Dread seeps through my body, not remembering falling asleep last night, only that it was sometime in the early hours of the morning. Father Aaron doesn’t give me a chance to answer. Pushing me away, he turns to Callum. “Was I not clear on my instructions? Did I not say Ava was to sleep on the bed and you on the floor?” When Callum doesn’t reply, Father Aaron growls and storms across the room. Catching a mound of his hair, he forces his head back, like how he did to Penny last night. “Answer me!”
“She—” Father Aaron drives his fist into Callum’s stomach before he has a chance to finish. His breath whooshes from his lungs, and I back away until my spine touches the wall. Lifting my hands, I cover my mouth as Callum bows forward and wheezes for air. A sneer slithers across Father Aaron’s lips. He looks disturbingly evil, especially wearing his black uniform and white collar. Skimming a hand over his hair, he smooths down any strand that may have escaped.
“I want you to wash away your sins, both of you, and as a reward, you will eat and be clothed. I shall return in one hour.”
Without another word he leaves the room. This time when the door closes there’s a jingle of keys and a lock clicking into place. Falling back against the wall, my heart thumps so hard I feel sick. Callum clutches his stomach, but when he sees me looking, his hand drops, almost like he’s embarrassed to show pain around me.
“Are you okay?” I risk asking, not able to imagine how much it hurt him. It was my fault. I broke the rules and slept on the floor. Clinging to his silence, he doesn’t speak a word. Instead, he nods to the bathroom. Go.
He wants me to wash first. Clean my body of sins, even though I have none. “But I don’t have clothes—”
“He will bring you new ones if you do as he asks,” he says, voice hoarse. My forehead creases. What am I supposed to do until then? I’ll be naked. Seeing my reluctance, he adds, “You can use the towel to cover yourself. I won’t look.”
My head shakes. No, this isn’t happening. This is wrong—sick. But it is happening, and I don’t know how to stop it. With little choice, I lean off the wall and step into the bathroom. Callum’s close behind, moving past me to turn on the shower. My teeth chatter as he goes over to a cupboard beneath the sink and takes out a towel.
“Don’t be long.” I snatch the towel from him in frustration. Ignoring me, he leaves, and that’s when a sob I’d been holding shatters my throat. Tears scorch my cheeks, and I wipe them away, not wanting to do this but knowing I must. Don’t be long. He’s heartless. He couldn’t care less about this being difficult for me.
Reaching around my back, I untie the ribbon around my waist. After undoing the buttons, I pull off the dress, hating being so exposed in this cold, dreary bathroom. When I go to my bra strap, I stop. I don’t want to take it off. Not my panties either. Those parts of my body are private, covered with a towel or not. Leaving them on, I step into the shower. The water spray is hot and burns my skin, but I welcome the heat after a while, not knowing how cold I was before.
Closing my eyes, the sound of water trickling drowns out the painful thoughts for a while. Home, Gran, and why nobody has come for me yet. After scrubbing myself with a bar of soap I find on the shower ledge, I get out and reach for the towel. Starchy fabric scrapes against my skin as I dry myself. Wrapping it around me, my heart sinks when it’s not long enough. Did Callum give me one this short on purpose? With a heavy sigh, I return to the bedroom.
Callum’s a blur as he passes me, shutting the door behind him. Seconds later, the shower comes on again. Tightening my grip on the only thing protecting my body, I sit on the bed and stare ahead. Barely five minutes pass before Callum returns. As he walks out, my eyes widen at his bare upper body. Droplets of water drip down a surprisingly sculpted torso with a smattering of hair across his chest.
Oh.My.
The back of my throat goes dry, and I’m embarrassed that I can’t look away. I should look away. Right now. His skin, almost alabaster in the early morning dew, is toned and scarred. Whip marks slash diagonally across his chest and stomach. As he turns to put yesterday’s clothes in the laundry basket, they’re on his back too. Enough to make multiple shivers roll through me. My lungs unbearably expand, knowing what it’s like to be marked. My own body has them in places. Not as many as him, which I know means he must’ve suffered longer. Was it Father Aaron’s doing? Something tells me it was, and the longer I stay here, the more chance I’ll have of finding out—and I don’t want to. Not at all.
Speaking of the Devil himself, five minutes earlier than he said he would, Father Aaron returns, eager to see if we’ve done as he asked. His face falls, clearly disappointed that we have.
Before he can order us to do anything else, I bravely stand. “Father Aaron?”
“Yes?” He cocks an eyebrow, maybe because I’ve addressed him boldly. I don’t feel bold or brave. Not allowing it to deter me, I push myself to go on.
“I understand why you’re doing this.” I don’t. “You believe I’ve lied and have to be punished.” From the corner of my eye, Callum watches me. “I’ve learned my lesson and think I should go home now. You know Gran will be worried about me. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
Regarding me for a moment, Father Aaron eventually steps closer and rests his hands on my shoulders. While I flinch from his touch, for one tiny second, I believe he’s about to tell me he has every intention of taking me home. Until his lips lift into a wicked smile, and I know how incredibly wrong I am.
“Oh, Ava.” He chuckles, and saliva dries on my tongue. My speech only amused him. “How innocent you are. It’s what I admire most about you.” He purposefully sighs long and hard. “You’re here because God willed it. He wanted me to save you, and anything I do is only to teach you the way.”
My throat is too dry to swallow, and I don’t know what to say. Father Aaron is either playing games with me, or he genuinely believes he’s not doing anything wrong. Gritting my teeth, my fists clench and all my fear morphs into anger. Even Callum moves to grab me, but it’s too late. Slapping Father Aaron’s hands off me, I furiously yell, “No! This is wrong. Let me out!”
Without warning, Father Aaron’s hand goes around my neck. Screaming, I let go of the towel to stop him from choking me. It drops to the ground, and he glances down, lips curling with fury that I’m still wearing my underwear. “Disobedient little bitch. Perhaps I am too lenient, and you do need to be taught a lesson.”
Keeping hold of my neck, he pulls me out into the hallway as the edges of my vision blur with tears. I no longer have a voice, prisoner to the paralyzing fear pumping through my body. Going downstairs and down the same narrow hallway as yesterday, we go inside the dining room. This time the candles aren’t lit, and it makes the space even more terrifying. Turning me, Father Aaron presses his front against my back, fingers still closed around my throat. The door he went into yesterday now faces us. He’s going to bring me in there.
“Let me show you what happens to those I do punish.” My stomach churns from his closeness. “And…” Grabbing my bra clasp, he pulls on it. My eyes widen, and I try to move away, but he doesn’t let go.
No! I try to yell but can’t with his hand tightening around my throat.
“When I tell you to undress, you fucking undress.”
My heart stops when it snaps, and the cups loosen around my breasts. Ripping it down my arms, he’s exposed me, and as I try to cover myself, Father Aaron pushes me closer to the door. His fingers go to my panties next, and he pulls them down my legs before I can grab them. “Stop! Please!”
“You will soon learn how I give punishment to those who deserve it.” He bends to untangle them from my ankles before wrenching the door open and pushing me inside complete blackness.
The smell is what hits me first. So foul and disgusting, I try not to breathe at all. My eyes struggle to see anything in the abyss, as Father Aaron says, “Repeat after me.”
“Plea—”
“In the name of the Father.” His grip tightens in warning. I can’t breathe. “Say it, Ava.”
“I…In the name of the Father.”
Chuckling darkly, he’s enjoying this too much. Leaning into me, his fingers from his other hand dig into my stomach, and I cringe when his lips brush my ear. “And of the Son.”
“P-Please,” I beg.
“Repeat it.”
Fingers snake along my stomach, traveling down my navel, where they shouldn’t be going. Gasping, I hastily repeat, “And of the Son.”
“And of the Holy Spirit.” Just when I think his hand is about to touch the space between my legs, he suddenly lets go of me. I’m left standing on my own in the dark—naked and cold. He moves around the room, his priest robes brushing against the floor the only indication that he’s still here.
“F-Father Aaron?”
“Say the words.”
Shaking violently, I finally mutter, “And of the Holy Spirit—”
He laughs. The type I know will haunt me for the rest of my life. A light comes on out of nowhere, and I blink from the brightness, finally spotting Father Aaron across the room and what’s next to him. My world dims and fades to black, like it was always meant to.
Amen.
I can’t move. The urge to scream is strong, but no sound passes my lips. It’s a girl—a girl possibly a few years older than me drenched in red. With her hands tied above her head, her body dangles from a hook attached to the ceiling. And the blood. It’s all I see. Covering her skin and saturating her once white dress. On the floor, and the walls, and beneath my feet.
My feet.
I balk. Blood and dirt cover my toes, and ice slides right down the middle of my spine. I stumble back, wanting to stop looking but unable to take my eyes off her. Her own eyes are open, glazed with death. Lacerations open her skin in the most grotesque way, and it’s clear she’s been whipped to an inch of her life.
Stepping back, attempting to put as much distance between me and the horror, my back collides with something. No. Someone. Arms wrap around my waist, but I don’t turn to see who it is. I don’t care. The foul stench in this room is her—urine, excrement, and decay.
Bowling over, scorching vomit projects past my lips and spills over the floor. Acid burns the back of my throat, and I wail, something that doesn’t sound like me at all. Father Aaron steps forward, smile still intact, no doubt his sick handiwork.
“Breathe,” a voice hisses down my ear. But as I inhale, a bloodcurdling scream comes instead.
Panicked, I whirl around. Callum has hold of me, and without thinking, I fall into him. He grunts when I wrap my arms around his waist and cling desperately to him, screaming and sobbing into his chest, not wanting to see the girl again. There are footsteps behind me, and my arm is grabbed. I yell out as Father Aaron forces me to turn and face him.
“Now you see,” he says darkly. “See what I can do. This seductress disobeyed me. What she did was unforgivable, and she paid the price.” I yelp when he throws me onto the blood-soaked ground. “You will obey me, Ava. I’ll make sure of it.”
Grabbing under my arms, Callum pulls me out of the room of horrors. I don’t know how I’m walking as we go upstairs and back to the bedroom. Once there, I fall to the floor and stay down, limbs too weak to stand. How is this not a nightmare? Nightmares you can wake up from but there’s no waking from this. This is real, and Father Aaron is a monster.
Just as I think it can’t get any worse, as I inspect myself, dirt and blood coat my skin. So much blood. The ends of my hair, beneath my nails. It’s thick and dried in. Sobbing, I rub at it. “No. Please, no. It won’t come off!”
A hand touches my arm, and Callum crouches beside me. Our eyes meet, and I don’t know what, but something passes between us. An understanding that doesn’t make me feel so alone.
“Come on.” He unexpectedly lifts me off the floor again. His eyes avoid my body and he doesn’t touch me anywhere he shouldn’t. And I’m glad. I’d forgotten about my nakedness in the terror. Maybe I was wrong before about him giving me a short towel on purpose.
Taking me into the bathroom, he turns on the shower again. As he waits for the water to heat, I take in his side profile—straight nose, curved lips, and long, thick eyelashes. He appears as exhausted as I feel and oddly beautiful. I quickly drop my eyes. I’m clearly not thinking straight.
When the water is hot enough, he helps me in. Sitting on the floor of the tub, I squeeze my knees to my chest as he reaches to point the showerhead directly above me. Water hits my skin and I watch with turmoil as the stream beneath me runs crimson and then brown. It swirls around the drain and disappears, like the girl did from her life. Like I have.
Once again, a sob breaks free, and I can’t believe what I saw. What Father Aaron did changes everything. Will he do that to me? Am I next?
“Block it out.” I hear Callum in the background. Arching my head to the side, I watch him leave. Leaving me utterly confused and lifeless, with more questions than answers.