My stomach lurched. Father just admitted that Ginny was real.
“I only wanted to know who she was.”
“Are you not happy with us here? Perhaps you think if you find Ginny you won’t have to marry Dwayne.”
How could he read my thoughts? I’d told no one. I shook my head and thought quickly. “I was only curious.”
“Where are the letters?”
“I threw them away.”
He pounded a fist on the table. “Liar! Bring them to me.”
I jumped up, ran to my room and found the letters. I flipped through them until I found the one with Ginny’s address. I tore off the address and shoved it in my sock drawer. I’d put it with my money later. I brought him the letters. I should have left them with Ruth.
I handed him the letters and he tossed them in the trash.
“Don’t bother trying to sneak out and get them tonight. I’ll burn the trash before I go to bed. Now go to your room, Naomi, your mother and I have plans to discuss and you are not to be part of them.”
My stomach grumbled. “May I eat in the kitchen then?”
He sighed and looked at me as if I we six instead of sixteen. “You disobeyed me, you’ll have no supper. Now leave, before I force you to.”
I stumbled down the hallway, weak with fear.
My breath came fast and my head spun. Halfway down the hall I slid down to the floor to stop myself from fainting. I took slow, deep breaths and waited, curious as to why they sent me away. What was so important that I couldn’t stay with them?
Mother’s voice floated down the hallway.
“Father, when do we move forward with the plan?”
Plan? The one where I would be handed over to Dwayne like a virgin sacrifice? That was already decided. Could there be more to it? Perhaps my wedding was the beginning to a hoard of sinister plans for me.
“Two weeks, in the evening. We’ll lock Naomi in her room.”
Locked in my room? They’ve left me home loads of times and never locked me in my room. Were they moving the wedding up?
“Of course.” My mother’s voice dropped a few levels, as if she knew she had an eavesdropper.
“This will seal my fate as a true warrior.” He slammed his glass down on the table and I jumped. Warrior? My father was a veterinarian, what was he talking about? And what on earth was a warrior?
My mother was quiet for a few seconds. The she spoke, almost too quietly for me to hear. “Yes, the girl will certainly give you that.”
What girl? And what was my father going to do to her? Not something nice, that’s for sure. I had to tell someone. But what would I tell them? My father is going to do something bad to a girl, but I don’t know what. No one would believe me.
Besides, if I told anyone they’d think I was the crazy one. I could hear the teacher now. “Dr. Aren is a kind man. He fixed my dog last winter, he’d never hurt anyone.” Then she’d go call my parents and tell them I was making up stories for attention. No, I couldn’t tell anyone.
When darkness came I realized I was safe for the night. Father didn’t say anything about Ruth so Dwayne must not have thought it was worth mentioning. I slipped on my cotton nightgown and arranged the roses I left for Kai. Tonight was a bouquet of Wild Ginger Roses. They were large and orange with a fruity smell. The color reminded me of Ruth and the name of Ginny.
Sleep didn’t come as easily that night. Thoughts of Ruth and Dwayne swirled in my head. Dreams had not quite come yet when my floor creaked. I smiled. The edge of the bed depressed and he leaned over me whispering incoherent words and I knew my eyes were once again sealed shut.
The anticipation of what was to come was almost too much. I wanted to reach up and pull his face towards mine, but during these nights, movement was impossible. Warmth bloomed in my chest and I could smell cookies baking in an oven. I could feel his face hovering a few inches above mine and I wondered what he was doing. Probably looking at me. It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t see him. A few minutes later, his lips met mine and I forgot all about the injustice of it all. Tonight the taste changed slightly. Sweeter than honey, like a sugar cookie.
A half hour later he brought my hand to his lips and he kissed the palm. Instinctively, I curled my hand around his jaw. My hand moved on its own. I could move. But he hadn’t seemed to notice, he just held my hand next to his face. I wiggled the fingers on my other hand. Yeah.
I found his knee with my other hand and squeezed. He jumped then disappeared.
Roses have thorns. Most gardeners use gloves to prune because they want to protect their hands. But I find that if I use gloves, I don’t get to know the roses intimately. I can tell if my plants are diseased because I feel it in the blooms, leaves, and stems. My hands bear many scars from thorns. But they are worth the pain, for from pain comes beauty.
THE NEXT TWO WEEKS PASSED SLOWLY Dwayne continued to watch me all the time. His ice blue eyes followed me across the lunchroom and his footsteps lingered behind mine before every class. My only refuge was the bus where Ruth would wait with kind hugs. We didn’t talk much anymore, but she comforted me all the same. The worst thing though, was that Kai quit showing up. The touch must’ve scared him. The roses I left for him two weeks ago sat on my dresser, wilted. I couldn’t stand the idea that he was gone. He left me when I needed him most. My home was quiet, too. The wedding loomed nearer and I had no idea how I would escape. I shuddered every time I thought of Dwayne’s grimy hands on my body.
One afternoon I stepped out of the counseling office after discussing my schedule for the next year and Dwayne grabbed my arm. The annoying fly buzzing was back and the bitter taste of bile filled my mouth.
“What were you doing in the office, bitch?”
“None of your business.” I pulled away from him, but his hand held my arm tight. He pulled me back close and yelled right in my face, his putrid breath causing me to cringe.
“Everything you do is my business.”
I struggled against his grip, but couldn’t get away. The bell rang and the hallway flooded with people. No one seemed to notice that I was trapped.
A hand grabbed Dwayne’s wrist.
“Let go of her.” I looked up and saw the brown haired boy again. He smiled at me.
“Mind your own business, asshole.” Dwayne yanked on my arm to free himself from the boy. The boy let go, but then drew his hand back and punched Dwayne in the nose. Blood burst from his nose and he let go of my arm. Dwayne let out a series of curses. Mostly directed at the boy but a few towards me. I turned to thank the boy, but couldn’t find him. He had disappeared into the crowd.
I took advantage of Dwayne’s distraction and crept out to the bus. I wasn’t sure how to react or even how to feel. Truthfully, I expected to feel happy, but mostly I just felt numb, unsure of exactly what happened. I knew that the boy thought he was helping me, but surely Dwayne would tell Father and I would be punished for Dwayne getting his nose smashed. A sick feeling crept into my stomach.
When father arrived home he was distracted. He didn’t speak to me, which I’d admit wasn’t that unusual, but he didn’t speak to my mother either. She also seemed rigid, like something was wrong, but she didn’t want to admit or acknowledge it. I didn’t allow that to dampen my mood.
Earlier, I’d lost track of time in the greenhouse and forgot to bring in new roses for Kai because mother called for dinner. I’d have to go back out before bed and grab a few. Tiffanys. They are a deep pink and have rich full blossoms.
While mother finished preparing for dinner, I escaped into my mind with visions of a happy home with my aunt. Hopefully, she had a couple of kids and they would be younger, like six or seven. Ginny would go out sometimes and I would babysit. We would watch Disney movies and I would read them bedtime stories. Then, when Ginny got home she would tell me about her date and we would discuss whether or not she should call him the next day. Mother sat down at the table and I realized she had set the whole table while I fantasized about a happy home.
A dish of spaghetti with meatballs and a plate of huge yeasty rolls rolled in Parmesan cheese sat on the table. When my mother served me, she gave me noodles with a bit of sauce. No meatballs, no roll. I finished my noodles and my stomach grumbled. Hunger still lingered. Without thinking I grabbed a roll and took a big bite. Mother’s eyes flashed toward me, but she didn’t say anything. The tense silence thickened. I chewed slowly savoring the taste of the bread. Then, emboldened by the fact that no one said anything I reached across and dished a few more noodles on my plate. But, when I reached for the meatballs my father grabbed my wrist.
He spoke without looking up from his plate that so engrossed him. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”
I grimaced from the pain but answered. “Eating, Father.”
He squeezed. “You eat only what you are given.”
Fury burned within me, my vision blurred and I could taste blood on my lips. Father’s tyranny was coming to an end. It was time for him to understand exactly what it meant to provide a proper home.
“You don’t give me enough. Most of this will go to the dogs. I deserve better than that.”
He let go of my wrist and stood glowering over me. His hand snapped back and he slapped me. My cheek stung, but I’d had worse.
“Never speak to me like that. You’ll do well to learn that before you go live with the Yerdins. I am kind compared to them. If you speak to Dwayne or his father like that you will find your arm broken. I am your father and you will do what I say.”
I met his gaze with defiance and knowing he wouldn’t be the first to back down, lowered my eyes to the table, seeing only the bowl full of yummy meatballs. I grabbed one with my hand and shoved it in my mouth, letting the juice drip down my chin. Then, I grabbed another. Father didn’t move and Mother continued to eat as if nothing unusual were happening.
With sauce-covered hands I upended the spaghetti bowl and threw the rolls across the room. One hit mother in the head, the parmesan cheese leaving white specks in her hair. She still did not change her methodical eating, but a tiny smile crept over her lips.
Before escaping to my room I looked at my father. “I’ll eat what I want. And I won’t go live with the Yerdins. I’d rather die.” Then I ran to my room and slammed the door. I found a towel and cleaned the food off my face and hands. Spaghetti sauce stains. Would my fingers still be orange tomorrow?
Half an hour later, Father opened the door. I didn’t move from where I lay. And my dresser was empty, no rose to comfort me. The energy had drained out of me during my rant and while I had intended to go to bed, I still hadn’t changed my clothes.
The door clicked shut and Father said quietly, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. If you choose the hard way, you will not be able to go to school tomorrow because I doubt you’ll be able to walk. Get up.”
School. I did want to go. And walking seemed like a good idea. What was I thinking throwing that fit at dinner? I was so close to freedom, I couldn’t blow it now. The light hurt my eyes when I turned and looked at my father.
He stood by the door, his small beady eyes fixed on me. His fists were clenched and his posture rigid. I was in for a rough one.
“Father, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Forgive me, please.” My hands shook by my side and I had to control my whole body from trembling.
He hesitated for a moment.
Then he picked me up and shoved me against the wall. My head slammed against a mirror and shattered it. The sheet rock gave way behind my back. My head throbbed, but I was more shocked than I was hurt. Then he squeezed my arms so hard I thought my biceps would burst like water balloons.
“You bitch!” He screamed in my face, spittle landing on my nose. I recoiled. His nostrils flared as he breathed in and out. I shrunk away.
He gripped my arms tighter and lifted me higher. Then he spun and threw me across the room. I landed on my back next to the window, the breath knocked out of me. I curled into a ball. His steel tipped boot crashed into my kidneys and I screamed with pain. Sobs racked my body and I did my best to protect my head. He pummeled my back with his fists and roared with fury. He’s going to kill me.
For a moment, the beating stopped and I waited, not daring to move. I peeked out from under my wrist to see where he was and to help protect myself from the next assault. Above me I caught a glimpse of faded wood and a chair came crashing down on my arm. The bone cracked and I screamed. I curled over to protect my arm when another chair crashed against my back and neck. I cradled my arm underneath my body and wondered how much more I could take.
“Get up,” he growled. I shivered. He kicked at my thigh.
Slowly, I unwound myself and stood and faced him. I held my arm gingerly at my side, hoping he wouldn’t notice that it was broken. He would only then want to inflict more pain.
“You have no idea what’s in store for you. I gave Dwayne permission to kill you after you give me an heir if you become disobedient.” He stopped and thought.
“Lay down on your bed, face down.”
I did, my back exposed. Thankfully my broken arm rested on the far side of the bed. My body shook uncontrollably. I knew I should be angry, but all I could find to feel was sorrow.
The first time his belt came down across my back I cried out in pain, not expecting the lash. Tears leaked out. How many times would he hit me? On lash twelve my shirt split, revealing bare skin. On number twenty-two warm bloods oozed down over my ribs. On thirty I lost consciousness.
Hours passed and I drifted in and out of sleep. Late into the night I awoke and contemplated getting out of bed but my back burned. The skin stretched and cracked with the slightest movement. And my arm. It felt as if shards of glass tore through it each time I moved. Beyond tears, I lay there thinking of how to best take care of myself. The floor creaked and I shivered, wondering if my father were back for more.
But then a sweet voice whispered in my ear and my eyes froze shut. Kai. A calloused finger softly touched my shoulder above the worst wounds. Then his fingers moved down my back, massaging the skin. It should have hurt, but instead tickled and itched a bit. Terrified to move I just lay there, realizing after a minute that the pain had disappeared. His fingers moved along my body finding all my wounds. Each time he hit a spot that hurt he paused, massaged the wound for a second and the pain vanished. He rolled me over, my eyes still glued shut and I gasped with the pain of my still broken arm. He held my arm with both hands and in an instant the pain was gone. He moved my wrist back and forth and then laid my arm across my chest.
He leaned across me and whispered in my ear. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier. Your father will pay for this.”
I breathed in, the scent of a sweet and spicy rose filling my every pore. In spite of my forced slumber, I took control this time, needing to forget my day. My fingers caressed his face, pricked by his stubble as I drew his face toward mine.
Something changed as our lips touched. It wasn’t sweet or innocent, but raw and needy. It tasted of a dark chocolate. Our lips pressed urgently together and my head buzzed with emotion. I felt his tongue slide across my lower lip and I shivered. My hands wove into his hair and I held him close. My eyelids fluttered and I saw his face for the first time. I gasped. He opened his eyes and the warm brown met mine for only a second before he disappeared.
He was everything I’d imagined him to be. He was the brown haired boy from school.
Tentatively, I sat up. Along the edges of my bed, dried blood stained the sheets. It seemed impossible that my back sustained that much and the pain was gone. Facing the mirror I turned around and lifted up my shirt, not a scratch or even a red mark. I took a deep breath. Who was Kai that he could do such amazing things? On my shelf was a small sweet smelling white rose. He left a note again.
Give me one week.
Then I’ll take you away from this hell.
I promise.
—Kai
After stripping the sheets from the bed, I
curled up and a dreamless sleep took me.
When I got home from school the next day I was surprised to see my father’s car in the driveway. He was not usually home so early.
Father sat at the table, his fists clenched and his face red. Mother sat next to him looking grim. I nodded at him, hoping to escape to my room without a scene. Surely the beating last night was sufficient. He crossed the room in two long strides, grabbed me by my arm and dragged me to my room. I stumbled along and knocked over the vase with the peacock feathers. The vase cracked, but my father didn’t even look back. He opened the door and shoved me in, his eyes narrow with fury.
“Tonight,” he growled, “you will stay here. The windows are locked from the outside and so is your door.”
I blinked, unsure of how to respond. “Why?”
Then his face split into an evil grin. “Tonight I become a true Destroyer,” he said and slammed the door. The lock clicked. What the heck was a Destroyer? This was the night that he’d talked about, the one that will make him a warrior. He was going to do something horrid to a girl. I shivered. There was nothing I could do about it.
On the way over to my bed, I tripped on something next to my dresser. I looked down. A book poked out from under the dresser. Hmm. It was pretty well stuck, but I shimmied it out. It was a large black photo album. I carried it over to my bed and sat down.
The first page had four pictures, babies. Underneath each picture was scrawled my name and a date. The handwriting was Father’s.
I turned the page. Four more pictures. This time my mother and father held me. A couple of other pictures had my grandma in them. Tears pricked at my eyes as I remembered her. A couple of pages later I was about three. My hair color was a soft brown. I’d forgotten. In one picture my mother held me, my hand grasped around a chocolate bar. On the other side of me a woman laughed. She was about the same height as my mother and shared her features. Ginny, maybe.
The Thorn Chronicles-Books 1-4: Kissed, Destroyed, Secrets, and Lies Page 5
