Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I swallowed, wishing I hadn’t left the room. I was safe there. No questions to answer. No darkness to hide.
“I can’t gain weight,” I whispered.
“You fucking need to gain weight,” he said angrily. “Do you have an eating disorder?”
I started to say no, but maybe I did. One that had been forced upon me.
“This is why you couldn’t eat the cupcake, isn’t it?” Realization dawned on his face.
I said nothing.
“Lace”—my name sounded like a warning—“tell me what this is about. You can see yourself in the goddamn mirror. You know that you’re too thin.”
Was I? I’d always been criticized. First by my father—Alpheus—and then Arun.
Closing my eyes, I forced out the truth. I didn’t want to lie to him. Anyone but him. All he’d done was help me. “If I gain weight, I am punished.” And I had been since the day I’d been forced to become my sister. “She was perfect before. I have to be perfect too.”
The room was silent, and it was deafening. My eyes stayed tightly shut. I’d told someone. It was only a small piece of the horror that I’d lived, but it was still something I’d never shared.
“Who punished you?” The coldness in Luther’s tone made me shiver.
“My—” I stopped. No, that wasn’t who he was. “Al-Alpheus.”
“Motherfucker,” Luther hissed as he let go of my chin.
At the loss of his touch, my eyes opened.
His hand touched my back, and he pressed me forward. “You’re gonna sit at this table and eat while I watch. The son of a bitch isn’t here, and he’s not getting near you again.”
My eyes widened, and for a moment, I wanted to run from the room. Bolt before anyone could stop me. How was I supposed to eat while he watched me? What if I threw up?
“No, please,” I begged, but he kept moving me toward the table.
“What is it you normally eat for breakfast?” Jayda asked me.
“She needs the waffles, and butter, and syrup.” Luther still sounded angry.
“Luther, she’s panicking. Look at her,” Jayda told him. “If she’s not used to things like that, it will make her sick.”
He jerked out a chair, and I sat down reluctantly.
Luther grabbed the back of the chair and leaned down close to my face. “What do you eat?” he asked with less aggression this time.
“A boiled egg and a half cup of fresh berries,” I replied.
His jaw ticced, and he studied me for a moment. “Make her two boiled eggs and add some whipped cream to a bowl of berries,” he told Jayda without looking away from me. “You don’t have to eat all of it. But you’re going to eat more than one damn egg and a handful of berries.”
I thought maybe I could do that. I wanted to. For him.
I nodded.
“Good girl,” he said, then stood back up, letting go of my chair and walking over to take the seat he’d been sitting in earlier.
A small thrill shot through me, and I remembered. The night he’d found me. Blinking, I stared at him. I had forgotten that part of the night. But the rush of endorphins from those two words reminded me.
“When are we going to kill him?” Gathe asked, reminding me that he was in the room. “Because I want to take a slice at the fucker.”
Luther lifted his cup. “Yeah, but there may not be much left of him to slice when I’m done.”
“Could you please keep the shop talk to yourselves?” Jayda asked.
They were discussing killing someone, and it should horrify me, but all I could do was sit in my small bubble of happiness because Luther had praised me. I’d done something right. I wanted more of that feeling.
Maybe eating two boiled eggs wouldn’t be so bad after all. And I had forgotten what whipped cream tasted like. I imagined it was delicious on berries.
It wasn’t healthy that I’d done nothing but been keenly aware of Luther’s absence and sought him at every turn since he’d left the kitchen this morning. But I’d eaten whipped cream, and I wanted more. It hadn’t made me sick, and the fear that typically clawed at me if I even thought of eating something that wasn’t on the strict diet my father—Alpheus—had kept me on most of my life had vanished. All I wanted to do was please Luther, and eating did that. So, I had eaten all of my food and enjoyed it.
Lunch, however, he’d not been around, and I couldn’t eat the meal that Jayda had made for me. At least not all of it. I took the lettuce and tomato off the sandwich and ate both of those items, along with the fresh-cut strawberries. When she noticed and apologized, asking me what I normally ate, I felt like a failure. I lied then and told her I didn’t normally eat lunch, which wasn’t a complete lie. Some days, the thought of boiled cabbage or spinach had been so unappealing that I went without. But most of the time, I’d been so hungry that I ate whatever I was allowed to have.