Pretty Little Things

My eyes opened at the familiar sound of heavy breathing. They fell first to the television, where a woman stood wearing only panties, being pursued by a man. Next I took note of A

I watched with her, scrutinizing her response to force and violence as she slowly raised a few kernels of popcorn to her mouth. But her reaction wasn’t one of repulsion and fear—it was fascination. The idea of her accepting and not batting an eye at the kind of things that made me hard scared me and thrilled me at the same time. I knew whatever she had learned about relationships was knowledge gained from seeing me satisfy the darker side of my soul. Even after we escaped from Taylor, she never really had a fighting chance.

I told myself protecting A

“What are your plans for the day, little one?” I asked, and she startled.

“I have a report I need to finish on the adverse effects of corporal punishment used on children.” I laughed and shook my head, my eyes going back to the television. “Yeah, so that will be fun. But if Co

“Not a chance.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

I looked over at her, her eyebrow raised in challenge.

“You had a private tutor.”

“I had antisocial tendencies and a habit of challenging authority.” I laughed as the credits rolled on the screen in front of us.

“I don’t doubt that.”

We fell silent as we both sat, unmoving. “So this guy…” I let my voice trail off.

“He’s just a guy.” She shrugged as she pulled on a loose thread on the blanket.

“Is he a good guy?”

“Are you?” she shot back.

“That’s a loaded question.” I stood up, stretching, and when I looked down at her, her smile fell. “What?”

“Did that hurt?”

I sighed as I thought of the marks that covered my back. “Don’t.” I walked over to the shelves of movies, sca

She stood and walked up to my side. My scars should have been a warning to not get close to someone like me, but A

“A

“I said fucking stop,” I seethed as I grabbed her by her shoulders and slammed her small body against the movies, causing the shelves to shake. Her green eyes were wide with fright, and now I was the one desperate to touch. Her fear was palpable, and while I knew I was pushing away the one person who even remotely began to understand me, it was for her own good. She didn’t have to understand as long as she listened. But listening to me was something A

“A

“I-I’m sorry.”

I lifted my head and looked at her. The fear-induced stutter let me know I had succeeded in making her understand.

I took a step back from her, ru

Chapter 5 - A

I was left in shock. Was my touch that repulsive to him? I quietly climbed the stairs, glancing over at Colin’s door, which was closed, music blaring from inside. I entered my room, grabbing my laptop and sitting down on my bed to work on my report.

The topic of physical punishment to children was heavy, but anything that would take my mind off my life was a welcome reprieve. I began typing and forced myself not to look up from the screen when Colin left his room, slamming his door and hurrying down the steps. The front door slammed next, and I sighed as I jumped from the jarring sound, glancing up to notice he hadn’t locked his door.

I chewed my lip and entered another query into the search engine, my finger tapping the back key as I typed out “Descendants of God.” The screen immediately flooded with links, and I clicked the top one, a news story with the first picture of a girl who was beaten until she was unrecognizable. I closed the window and focused on the task at hand.

My report grew from a few hundred words to several thousand, and my stomach rumbled from hunger. I glanced out of my doorway, noting that Colin still hadn’t returned. Where the hell could he have gone in such a hurry?

I saved my paper and set my laptop on my bed, thankful that at least the house was empty. I left my room, pausing to look at his door, but I hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen.

I grabbed a dish of Grace’s macaroni salad and set it on the counter while I grabbed a fork, eating directly from the container. Tears stung my eyes, and my throat grew thick with sadness as I recalled my mother’s macaroni salad that she always made for any event or holiday. We didn’t have any extra, but we always had what we needed and helped others as much as we could. She was a good and decent woman who would have done anything for anyone.

I replaced the plastic lid and stuck it back in the fridge, my hunger squelched. I climbed the stairs, stopping to look back at the front door before taking a slow step toward Colin’s room. I paused, my heart racing as if he would burst through the door at any second. When the house remained silent, I grabbed the handle and turned, my eyes closed in a silent prayer that I wouldn’t get caught. The door opened, and I shoved it, staring at his clinical, pristine room. His walls were white and the bed a deep blue that matched his curtains. I tiptoed across the beige carpet and pulled open the heavy wooden nightstand drawer. Inside were a notepad and pen, an empty prescription bottle, an open box of condoms, and a broken watch. I closed it and turned around, glancing at the other furniture. The antique dry sink held several glass decanters and tumbler glasses.

I slipped inside his bathroom and glanced around, my cheeks heating from the memory of him inside it when he was doing unmentionable things to himself. I pulled open the cabinet under the sink, which held extra bottles of body wash and shampoo. I sighed as I stood up and let the door close. There was nothing good in here. That was when I heard the front door and heavy footfalls on the steps as a woman giggled.