Page 23

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

ERIN

“Wake up, hon!” Mom bangs on my bedroom door. “You’ll be late, and turn that alarm off!”

My eyelids are heavy. I groan and put a hand to my thumping head. Little dots cross my vision, and everything’s hazy. Maybe I’m coming down with something…

“I’m up now,” I croak, heaving myself out of bed with great effort and silencing my beeping phone.

After being molested by Robert, I endured an afternoon of pretending it didn’t happen. I followed him around the course and laughed at his stupid jokes. He found it especially amusing to make me cheer whenever he potted a ball.

When I returned home, I expected something to happen.

I stayed up until three a.m., waiting. The slightest noise made my heart race in anticipation, but they didn’t come, leaving me with only disappointment for company.

Perhaps I’d lost my chance to get any answers about Sarah.

They could have got spooked and left town for good.

“You have twenty minutes,” Mom calls. “Your father will be waiting.”

“Of course he will,” I grumble under my breath, dragging my feet to the bathroom.

I take off my nightshirt, getting ready to jump in the shower, then catch my reflection in the mirror.

What the…

The stark contrast between my pale skin and the color red is first to draw my attention.

Smeared bloody fingerprints cover my chest, like someone has grabbed my breasts and pawed at my hips.

Next, tiny indentations from where teeth have sunk into the skin around my nipples leave possessive purple marks behind.

Marks.

Their marks.

How can I not remember? I part my legs and gulp, looking down to see bruises from where their ghostly fingers touched me. Another bite mark taunts me from my soft inner thigh. It stings as I run my finger over it.

I pull down my panties with shaking hands, half expecting to see blood, or worse, but there’s nothing. I breathe a sigh of relief, spinning to check the rest of my body and find bloody handprints over my ass.

None of this makes sense.

As I turn, I inhale sharply. My hair… Shit! My hair looks like it’s been hacked with gardening shears. Half of it has been crudely cut into uneven jagged lengths.

I’m not the type of girl who cares about her appearance, but we live in a town where image matters. Mom insists on taking me to the salon every six weeks for a cut and color. She’ll lose her mind when she sees me.

I grab my nail scissors. It’ll take a lot to tidy up this mess, but I start desperately cutting. My locks fall into the basin. How can they expect me to leave the house looking like this?

“Erin!” Father barks. “Where are you?”

I have seconds to react, managing to put on my bathrobe before he barges inside.

He glares at the scissors in my hand. His eyes narrow into slits, like he’s caught me standing over a dead body with a bloody knife.

“What did you do?” he spits through gritted teeth.

“I…”

I’m lost for words.

He grabs my arm. “You’re coming with me.”

“Dad, that hurts,” I whimper, struggling to keep my robe together.

He doesn’t listen and tightens his hold, digging his fingers into my arm so hard it’ll bruise.

“Don’t say another word,” he hisses, dragging me down the stairs.

Mom hums to herself while clearing the table. When she sees me, she shrieks. A jug of milk slips from her hands and smashes.

“Your hair!” she shrieks in despair. “What did you do?”

“Do you think this is funny, Erin?” Dad yells. “This is behavior I’d have expected from your sister, not from you. Is this how you want to represent yourself at the Sunnycrest event this week? Are you trying to embarrass me?”

He doesn’t give time for me to respond. Instead, he pulls me through the house and hauls me into his study, leaving Mom gaping open-mouthed after us.

“Sit down!” he roars, throwing me into the chair opposite his desk.

“Magnus…” Mom hovers in the doorway. “I have my stylist on speed dial. She can be here within the hour.”

“No!” he yells. “Not today, Jocelyn.” He points at me menacingly. “This is between me and her. Now, get out. Now!”

Mom bows her head. “Yes, Magnus.”

He storms to his locked cabinet in the corner.

It’s the first time I’ve seen inside it as he keeps the key on him permanently.

He rifles through its contents, hurling random pill bottles across the room while muttering to himself.

I can’t catch everything he says, but the words ‘ungrateful’ and ‘spoiled’ are hard to miss.

“We’re increasing your medication.” He slams three bottles in front of me. “Take one from each of these three times a day.”

He lines up the pills. One yellow. One red. One blue. I’m already taking antidepressants he prescribed, and I’ve only just started feeling normal on them. I don’t want to turn into a drugged zombie like the rest of his patients.

“I don’t want?—”

He grabs my face, squeezing my cheeks hard.

“Dad!” I thrash around, turning my head to get away.

He uses one hand to grab the back of my head, while forcing my mouth open with the other. He shoves the pills onto my tongue, almost making me choke.

“Swallow!” he commands, spraying me with spit. “Now!”

He snaps my jaw shut. I fight the urge to gag as the oblong pills slide down my throat.

“Open your mouth,” he barks.

Trembling, I do as he asks. He swirls his fingers around my inner cheeks and raises my tongue to inspect underneath.

“I can’t be too careful,” he murmurs.

“I’ll be late for s-school,” I stammer, hoping this will get me back into his good graces. After all, education is what he values above all else. “I need to get ready.”

“School?” He guffaws. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re not leaving the house until further notice.”

Anger bubbles inside me. I’ve never lashed out at him before, partially because that was Sarah’s area of expertise, and I wanted to avoid the consequences.

It was easier to sneak into Sarah’s room when he locked her up, or bring her food when he starved her as punishment for skipping dinner, rather than address the problem.

Yet, with a grounding stretching ahead of me like a life sentence, I can’t stop myself.

“I’m your daughter, not a patient,” I say.

“Would you prefer an extended stay at Sunnycrest?” he asks.

“One more word from you, and I’ll have you admitted.

I made mistakes with Sarah, but I won’t make the same mistakes with you, Erin.

I don’t know what you were hoping to achieve with your little act of rebellion, but you will regret it.

Until you earn my trust again, you will do as I say. ”

“But—”

He strikes me across the face, stunning me into silence. It’s the first time he’s hit me, and I cradle my burning cheek, cowering like a small child. All of my earlier boldness has evaporated.

“Go to your room. Do not come out until I return. Your mother will book you an appointment tomorrow to fix this mess before tomorrow night.” He wrinkles his nose, plucking a strand of my hacked hair, then letting it drop around my face.

“You will still be attending the function. I need to keep you where I can see you. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” I whisper, a tear falling down my cheek.

“Good,” he replies. “Now, get out of my sight. You’re a disgrace.”

I hold in a strangled sob and run upstairs. Mom ignores me as I pass, singing along to the radio as she wipes the kitchen surfaces with more vigor than usual.

“I’m heading to work, Jocelyn,” I hear Dad say. “Erin is not to leave this house under any circumstances.”

“I’ve called the academy to let them know she’s unwell,” Mom says.

“Very good,” he says, before slamming the front door hard enough to knock a hanging portrait off of the wall.

Back in the safety of my bedroom, I sink to my knees.

My head spins from the medication taking effect.

The drugs must be strong for him to leave the house without worry of me escaping.

I struggle to my feet, gripping onto my drawers for balance as my surroundings blur in and out of focus.

My knees threaten to give way, but I grapple my way to the bed.

I tug the curtains closed before collapsing into my cushions.

It’s impossible to tell how much time drifts by.

I curl into the fetal position, fighting to keep my eyes open, while my mind refuses to switch off.

Every emotion comes to the surface: fear, anger, frustration.

Whenever one rises, it gets tempered again and numbed, like they’re wrestling to free themselves, drowning inside my brain while battling to catch their breath against an oncoming tide.

“I’m going to the spa, darling,” Mom says from somewhere in the abyss. “I’ll be back later. Feel better soon!”

I ignore her, pulling my blood-soaked robe tighter around me.

Silence stretches on until my bathroom door opens, and a chilling British voice says, “I thought they’d never leave.”