Page 11 of Pieces of Ash

“You can’t mean?—”

“Yes! I can,” he groans, his face bobbing slowly up and down. His other hand clasps my upper thigh, and his thumb jabs close to my womanhood. He slides it back and forth in rhythm with the hand he’s rubbing himself with, and I am beset with a terror, a repulsion so strong, I can’t help myself.

My stomach heaves, and I vomit, without warning, all over his head, his hand, and my lap. Strings of puke and mucus hang from my lips, the smell sharp and sour.

“Futu-?i pizda ma-tii!”he yells, jerking his hands away and falling backward into a sitting position, his face shocked and disgusted as my vomit seeps between the bristles of his hair and slides down the sides of his face.“Futu-?i dumnezeii ma-tii!”

The taste of puke makes me throw up again, and I buck forward over and over again until there is a small pond of regurgitated food all over my lap, dress, shoes, and Mosier’s once-pristine, faux-fur princess carpeting. At this point, I am crying too, my tears sliding into the vomit-laden saliva falling in slow strings from my lips.

I backhand my mouth slowly and look at Mosier, who is now standing over me, his expression disgusted. My eyes slide up his form, stopping briefly at the massive, terrifying protrusion at the front of his pants before skipping up to his eyes.

“You have much to learn,cenusa!” He lifts a finger and jabs it in my direction, fumbling for a handkerchief to wipe his cheeks. “You willwelcomemy touch! You willbegfor it!”

Never.

“Or youwon’t,” he growls. “I don’t care either way. Iownyou,cenusa. Iboughtyou. Your body ismine! Your virginity ismine! Your pussy ismine! Your womb ismine,and I will pumpit full of cum and fill it with son after son until you have built me a beautiful fucking empire, do you hear me?”

Oh, God.

He runs a hand through his hair, shaking out the puke from his ringed fingers with a sneer. “You and your junkie slut sister were a package deal. I boughtherforyou, you stupid cunt!”

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

He leans forward and grabs my chin harshly, making me cry out with pain.

His voice is low and lethal when he speaks to me, so close to my face, I can feel the heat of his breath on my skin. His dark, furious eyes stare into mine. “When one month of decent Catholic mourning has passed…the day after your goddamned graduation…youwillbecome my wife,cenusa. Do you understand me?Ma în?elegi?And you will be the perfect, pious, obedient fucking wife that I havewaitedfor, that I havepaid for, that I fuckingdeserve.”

“No,” I mewl softly, tears streaming down my cheeks as I try to escape his grasp.

“Yes!” he cries, tightening his bruising grip on my slippery skin. “To be quite clear…you will be mine tofuck…any way Iwant…for the rest of my goddamnlife.Thatis your future,cenusa.Thatis your destiny. Thatis the plan.”

“Please,” I sob, my chin dropping to my chest when he finally releases it.

“One month,” he bellows, then turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

I crumble forward and weep.

Chapter 3

Ashley

One month.

One month.

One month.

Now his words at the reading of the will—Ashley will work for me, I have plans for her—make sense.

My job? His wife. His…baby maker.

Ana, one of the housemaids, comes up to take my soiled clothes and clean my carpet while I step into a steaming shower, resting my forehead against the tiled wall as I replay his words in my head.I married your whore sister for you… Someone I could mold into my own… Pious. Modest. All mine… I own you,cenusa… Your womb is mine… You will be mine to fuck…any way I want…for the rest of my goddamn life.

That is your future,cenusa.

That is your destiny.

This was his plan all along. From the very beginning. To find a vulnerable woman with a younger sister and marry her…like some sort of perverted two-for-one deal. He planned this from the first day he saw us shopping together. Marrying my mother was a means to an end. And the end, apparently, is me.