His to Keep by Lydia Goodfellow
Chapter Eight
John returns later to get us for dinner. Beckoning me over, I have no choice but to go to him and hate when he grabs my arm to take me downstairs. He’s silent. The whole house is as we enter the dining room of hell. Flashbacks of the girl come unbidden into my thoughts, made worse with Father Aaron sitting at the table already, sipping casually on a wine glass filled with red. As red as the walls. Her blood?
His eyes, void of humanity, observe me. And I want so much to run away as I envision myself covered in blood like she was, screaming to be saved like she probably did. But nobody will save me, just like no one saved her.
I’m forced into the seat next to Father Aaron again, and I wish I didn’t have to be anywhere near him. My skin already crawls being this close, knowing what he’s capable of. As Callum takes his seat next to me, his shoulder touches mine, and a part of me wonders if it were on purpose. Despite Father Aaron’s calm reserve, his brows are lined with agitation. As soon as John joins the table, Penny enters the room carrying a large dish. Staggering toward us, her back is hunched over, and once the candlelight hits her face, I’m unable to contain my shock. Covered in bruises, her eyes are two swollen rings of fire. It’s so awful looking. I’m surprised she can see out of them.
By the air of complacency around Father Aaron, I know he did this to her and it is the reason for his bad mood. After setting the hot dish into the middle of the table, Penny’s hands tremble as she serves dinner onto our plates. After she’s done filling the glasses with wine, she sits and sways in the chair, once again not getting anything for herself.
After a prayer, we sit in uncomfortable silence, all except Callum, who stares at Penny with anger clouding his gaze. It’s then I notice some resemblance between them both—same hair color and nose shape. They must be related, though I can’t be sure.
“I made sure there was no nonsense this time.” Father Aaron’s teeth are clenched as he glares at Penny. “Tonight, we will finally celebrate our new arrival.” He lifts his glass. “Ava, welcome to the family.”
I haven’t eaten in days, but I’m no longer hungry. I don’t want to be in this family. But knowing he’s watching I pick up my glass of water and take a sip.
The food tastes different as I begin eating. Nicer. Before I know it, I’ve cleared my plate. The first time my stomach has been full here, and it makes me sick.
“Why aren’t you eating?” John says, staring directly at Callum, who hasn’t made a move to eat. His eyes harden at John, blatant hate creeping between them. With a vindictive grin, John continues. “You won’t become a strong man if you don’t eat. Then again, you’re not a man, are you?”
Callum looks away, ignoring John’s childish taunts. Even Father Aaron seems impassive to the exchange between them as if this happens all the time. Finally reaching for his fork, Callum stabs the chicken on his plate, but John only laughs.
“Look at you,” he leers. “Look at the strong man eating his food. Are you only doing it because you’re sitting next to the new girl and don’t want her to see what a fucking cunt you truly are?”
Callum’s hand, which rests on his thigh beneath the table, squeezes into a fist. “Stop.”
“Stop?” John chuckles. “My apologies, cousin. I forget you’re different and wouldn’t dream of spreading a girl’s thighs and fuck—”
Slamming his hand against the table, Callum stands so quickly his chair rocks back and crashes to the floor. The room goes silent, and my heart stops when Father Aaron lifts his gaze from his meal.
“Sit down,” he demands. Callum doesn’t, and a part of me wants to reach out and pull him back into his seat, but I can’t move. John eyes him slyly, and I know he did this on purpose—to get Callum into trouble. It’s worked. Father Aaron’s chair scrapes against the floor as he rises from his seat. Resting both fists on the surface of the table, he leans forward and says with more vigor, “Sit down.”
My nails dig into my thighs when Callum once again doesn’t listen. What the hell is he doing? I’m terrified of what’s unfolding before me. The rage in the room is boiling hot, about to spew over the edges and sizzle. Straightening his back, Father Aaron smooths a hand down his black shirt. Stalking around the table, he moves behind me, and I find myself counting the heavy footsteps.
One…two…three…
Glancing over my shoulder, he’s next to Callum now and glaring at him. “I’m warning you.”
Turning in his direction, defiance sears in Callum’s eyes, and it looks like fire licking ice. Despite no amusement in the sound, Father Aaron chuckles, but then grabs Callum around the throat. Pushing him back with force. Callum’s back slams against the wood. Glasses topple and spill over the tablecloth, some wine splashing on my dress. The candles wobble dangerously, threatening to set the place alight until John grabs them.
As Father Aaron hits Callum in the face with his fist, Penny flees from the room so quickly she’s like a ghost whooshing out of sight. I stumble away from the table as John grabs Callum by his shoulders and pins him down. Tears rush to my eyes as Father Aaron beats Callum, and I hear every violent hit and grunt of exertion and pain. He doesn’t cease the onslaught for a whole minute, and when I catch blood coating his knuckles, he stops.
“Keep him still,” Father Aaron tells John while reaching for his back pocket. Climbing on top of the table, John pushes his hands into Callum’s shoulders.
“Get the fuck off me!” Callum yells, trying to push him off.
Father Aaron withdraws something long and metal from his back pocket. With a sharp flick, a knife appears—a deadly twist to this horrific night. Putting my hand over my mouth to muffle my cries, John rips open Callum’s shirt. Buttons scatter across the floor as Father Aaron declares, “Defiance is sin.”
Pressing the knife into his chest, blood pools around the blade, and Callum hisses out in pain.
“Stop!” I yell, surging forward and catching Father Aaron’s shirt. “You’re hurting him. Stop!”
Turning in my direction, awareness flickers in Father Aaron’s empty gaze, as if he’s only remembered I’m there. My body trembles. Any semblance of humanity isn’t there anymore, only something evil. He turns to me entirely, knife still in hand and pointing dangerously at my stomach.
“What did you say?” His voice quivers with anger. “Stop?”
My heart bounces off my chest as he takes a step forward. I stumble back, terrified of the knife being plunged into me. “F-Father Aaron, please. You’re scaring me.”
Rage flares in his eyes. Tossing the knife onto the table, he grabs the front of my dress and pushes me back. My scream tangles in my throat as he takes me out of the dining room. Behind us, John yells at Callum to move as I’m thrust upstairs and down the hall to the bedroom. Father Aaron’s foot connects with the door, and as it swings open, he pushes me inside. I hit the floor, the pain instantly splitting my body into two. I stay down, too afraid to get up. If I hadn’t seen him leave the knife downstairs, I would’ve thought this was it. I was going to die. When Callum is shoved inside in the same ruthless manner, the door closes and locks.
“My Lord. She deserves to be beaten for that,” John says beyond the door.
“No.” Father Aaron’s voice chills me, and I can envision the smile there. “She will learn her place here soon enough.”
Footsteps stomp off, and I let out an unsteady breath. A little time melts away before a hand touches my shoulder. Callum kneels beside me, his face a mess. Bruises already darken parts of his face, his bottom lip split, and a trail of blood oozing from his nose. The cut on his chest looks awful and ragged. Hopefully not deep enough to need stitches, but enough to leave a scar to add to the rest. And for what? Because he stood up to John, who taunted him? It’s unfair.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as he helps me to the bed. “Really, I—”
“No,” he surprises me by saying instead. “That wasn’t you—it was me.” It was John, I want to correct him but don’t. It looks like he wants to say more, but our eyes meet instead. Since being locked in a room with him, his mouth lifts into a small smile for the first time. It’s sad, but I’ve never seen anything as beautiful and honest in my life. Whatever comes of this, whatever punishment is next, at least I’m not alone.
* * *
An eternity seemsto pass before the door unlocks. I’m sitting on the bed and Callum on the chair when Father Aaron walks in slowly, obviously taking his time to draw out the effect. With his hands stowed in his pockets and arrogant grin in place, excitement shines bright in his eyes. Even after preparing myself for his return, fear still grips me.
“Stand.” We both stand, and he turns to me first. “I was going to tell you at dinner that I saw your grandmother today, Ava.”
My insides shudder. “W-what?”
“I thought you might like to hear that I’ve never seen her look so happy. She even thanked me for helping with the summer’s fundraiser today.”
My bottom lip trembles. Gran from my dreams, begging the police to help find me, is replaced with a woman who bears a beaming smile as she contributes to raising money for the church. Someone who still goes about her daily business like I’m not a thought. Not searching for me. Not helpless to find me—
“Because of the events this evening, you will both not eat until I’ve seen you’ve repented for your sins. Then we’ll see who wants to continue being defiant.”
He turns and leaves, banging the door so hard and jarring, I jump out of my skin. My ears ring. No food. Grans happy. The thought cripples me. While Father Aaron could be lying, the idea that Gran’s accepted my disappearance so quickly toys with my fears. What if she thinks I’ve run away? There’s no reason to suspect Father Aaron. Not when she regards him so highly. A true man of God, she’d called him.
Sickness consumes me. Gran doesn’t care that I’m gone. I bet she hasn’t contacted either of my parents to ask if I’m with them. Pushing my hands through my hair, I squeeze my roots until my scalp stings when I pull too hard. I can’t catch my breath from the panic. Now I know why Father Aaron looked smug. It must be a thrill to grind someone down with the truth and watch them crumble.
As night comes, I go to bed and cry myself to sleep. Until tears drench my pillow. Until my head throbs and my nose is stuffy, and I can only breathe through my mouth. Callum listens with his back to me. Though there are times when he glances over his shoulder to watch me silently. And only once, our eyes meet. A few seconds, if that, but it’s enough to see the harsh truth I’m breaking over. He doesn’t say the words out loud, but he doesn’t have to. For once, I’m thankful for his silence. Because I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to know this is the end.