Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“Over here!” A shout, and then two men appear.
I make a break for it, but they catch me easily, hauling me up, their shouts victorious.
I thrash and squirm, doing my best to get away, but knowing I can’t.
That’s the whole point.
“No,” I screech. “No.”
I’m pulled through the compound, past the growing crowd, past eyes that widen in shock and disbelief. I make a scene the entire time, twisting and cursing, telling them to let me go. I hope that every single camera picks this up, that everyone out there truly sees what monsters these people are.
“Let me go,” I scream. “Please.”
We come to a stop just outside the eating hall, and my father walks out, his long white robe flowing in the cool night air, his eyes intense as he stares down at me with such disappointment. To think I came from this man, and yet, when he looks at me, he feels nothing.
“Where is the child?” His voice is a whip crack, sharp and cruel.
I force myself to hold his gaze, to stand as tall as I can. “Go fuck yourself.”
His hand lashes out, slapping me so hard my head whips to the side and tears burn in my eyes as stinging radiates through my face.
“I will ask you again, daughter. Where is the child?”
I swallow, ignoring the taste of blood on my lip. “Gone. You’ll never see her again.” I breathe out the words like a vow, letting them hang in the air between us. “I told you I was taking her, I’m sorry you were too stupid to believe me.”
I’m pushing his buttons, but that’s the whole point.
I want him mad.
I want his world to stop.
He laughs, low and menacing, as if amused by a child’s tantrum. His hand grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Stupid girl. You think you’ve won?” His voice is a poison. “You’ll never leave this place again, I’ll make sure of it. You might have freed the child, but you, daughter, will never be free again.”
“If that’s meant to scare me, it doesn’t,” I point out, my voice laced with sass.
“It seems you have forgotten what happens to people who disobey me.”
I snort. “The scars on my back say otherwise.”
He sneers. “A reminder then? To the cross with her, let’s show her exactly what she seems to have forgotten.”
Here we go.
Just like I knew he would.
He turns, and like the sheep they are, everyone turns with him. The two men lead me to the cross, right out in the open, and I know for certain that right now, the cameras are on me. I hate that the club is watching this, and I know it will be difficult for them, but I also know it needs to be done.
“String her up,” my father growls. “Ten lashes, then we’re going to perform our ritual to purify her sins. She carries the child who will lead us, we must remove the evil from her body.”
Well, this should be a blast.
The two men bring me up onto the platform where the cross sits, and release me, tying my legs. I take a small moment to squirm, crying out and cursing, flipping my body around and making things difficult. I’m not doing it to escape, I’m doing it so I can reach in and take the blade from my jeans. I manage to get it in my hand, and I close my fist around it, feeling the burn as it cuts into the flesh on my palm.
The men get control of me again, hauling me up. The knife bites into my skin as I’m tied to the cross, my arms pulled high and the weight of my body straining my shoulders. I can barely breathe around the pain, but I know this is what I want. This is what they need to see. Knowing that so many people are already watching is enough to give me strength.
“Prepare yourselves,” my father calls to the assembled crowd. “Everyone gather. Watch as the girl who defied the word of the Lord is purified.”
They step back, but my father stays close. His eyes are cold, triumphant. I watch him, defiant, as the first lash cuts across my back. My world spins, my breath catching in my throat, and the scream that tears out of me is raw and broken. It echoes through the sickening silence. Nobody makes a sound.
The second strike is worse, the pain searing, white-hot. Blood runs down my back, warm and slick, soaking into my jeans. I bite down on my lip, hard, trying to stay conscious, trying to hold on.
“Again,” my father orders, his voice merciless.
Another lash, and I feel the skin split, my entire world tilting. I can’t hold back the sobs now, and they break free, jagged and desperate. I don’t know how much more I can take, but I have to. I will. For Lily. For the club. I choke back the tears, my voice a hoarse whisper. “Fuck you. Asshole.”