But my mind rejects what he’s telling me.
“No,” I murmur. “Dad was a good man. A holy man. He would never—”
“Your dad?” Gabriel croons, mocking me. He’s becoming unhinged again, like he did back in the bathroom.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I’m sorry, Father, I didn’t mean—”
He shakes me into silence. “Always blameless,” he whispers as he drags me close against him. “No one ever suspected. Not even you.”
Of course not. Why would they? My dad kept to himself and both my parents were quiet people. But they loved the church. They loved people. I never heard them say a bad thing about anyone. Oh, they’d fight behind their closed bedroom door, but I wasn’t idiotic enough to believe they had a perfect marriage. Dad was gone a lot and Mom didn’t like staying home to look after me. She never said it, but I could see she missed him when he wasn’t around.
When I was younger they’d sometimes go away for a week or two, but that stopped as soon as I hit puberty. It was Dad who told Mom to stay at home. He probably thought I would lure a boy back home or something. He seemed to think I was a whore as much as Gabriel did.
I always thought he was strict because of his faith, but maybe he was actually trying to protect me from people like him? Deviants and pedophiles who would see me in a short skirt and obsess about what they could do to me if they had me to themselves?
Somewhere hidden. Somewhere secret.
A dark, soundproofed room like this.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please stop.”
I can’t let him destroy my past. It’s all I have.
“Forgiveness requires confession, child,” Gabriel says, his lips brushing my ear. He shakes me again, kisses my temple. “Only through confession can we be cleansed of sin.”
“P-please.”
“I told your mother that so many times. But she wouldn’t listen, just like you.”
My heart stutters in my chest.
Mom knew?
Oh Lord, who am I kidding? Of course she knew. But logic doesn’t ease the pain of realizing my mother kept Dad’s secret.
I stab my elbow into Gabriel’s stomach.
I get lucky. He’s distracted, and I manage to hit him hard enough, and in just the right spot, that I knock the air from his lungs.
He doubles over with pain, his grip releasing just enough for me to wriggle free.
I make a dash for the stairs, for the door, for freedom.
My foot lands on the first stair, and then Gabriel kicks it out from under me. I fall face first, my chin slamming into the wooden step. Blood leaks into my mouth from the cut my teeth sliced into the inside of my cheek.
But I’m already scrambling up, ignoring the pain, ignoring the sound of Gabriel’s furious breathing behind me.
I don’t reach the door.
Halfway up the stairs, Gabriel latches onto the back of my sleeping shirt and tugs. I go flying down the stairs, missing all of them. I land on my back on the plastic sheeting with a loud crump.
Air gushes out of my lungs. I roll onto my side, groaning as a dull ache spreads through my body from the impact.
When I force my eyes open, they fix on Gabriel’s loafers.
He grabs my hair and drags me over the floor. My scalp is on fire where he’s pulling, hurting more the harder I fight.
The bed squeaks when he throws me down, and I scream in panic. I try to roll off, but he slaps me so hard I see stars. There’s a violent yank on my arm, the rough kiss of a rope, and then I’m bound.
Like he’s done this a thousand times before.
I start sobbing with frustration, fear, desperation. “P-please!”
“That’s it,” he says, voice menacingly low. “Keep begging. That’s just how he liked it.”
What. The. Fuck?
I kick and lash out, but it’s as if Gabriel is made of steel. He doesn’t even blink when I rake my nails through his skin hard enough to draw blood.
“Help!” The yell burns my throat.
I was right about the soundproofing. Gabriel doesn’t give a fuck. He grabs my foot and lashes it to the bedpost.
My toes catch his chin, sending his head snapping to the side. There’s a hush, a pause as he straightens his head.
His brown eyes resemble those of an animal head hanging above some redneck’s fireplace.
There empty. Dead.
He grabs my other foot, lashes it down. I try and untie the knot on my left hand while he’s busy, but it’s so tight I don’t make any progress by the time he’s done.
And then he climbs on top of me, straddling my stomach.
Terror pours ice through my limbs. I go stiff, panting as tears leak from the corners of my eyes.
He grabs my chin, his fingertips biting cruelly into my jaw. Then he snaps my head to the side like he can’t bear looking at me anymore.
A giant sob wracks me as he ties off my last wrist. He settles back, crushing my stomach with his weight, and studies me.
My head is still to the side, and I don’t dare look at him. Instead I squeeze my eyes shut and start praying.
Our father, which art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy—
“Look at me.”
—name. Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done, on earth as—
“Look at me!” he roars.
His fingers wrench my head to face him, but I keep my eyes squeezed closed. It’s stupid, it’s fucking juvenile, but it’s the only way I can defy him now.
I’m not going to lie here and take this.
“Trinity.” His voice is soft now, sinister. “Open your eyes.”
“Fuck you.”
A slap sends white spots dashing through the black behind my eyes.
“You like it, don’t you?” he rasps. “The fight. The struggle. The pain. Got that from your whore mother.”
My eyes fly open. I stare up at him in shock. “How dare—”
He slaps me again. “Is this the only way you’ll let me in? Is this what it will take? Because I’ve done worse.” His voice catches. “I’ve done so much worse for so much less.”
My heart thunders in my chest. What the hell is he talking about? His shoulders move back, hand raised for another slap.
“No! Stop! Please!”
He pauses, but his hand stays up.
“I don’t know what you mean. Please…” A sob cuts in, I force it down best I can. “Just…just talk to me, Gabriel.”
Pathetic, trying to reason with a mad man. But my head aches, and my cheek’s on fire, and I can’t take anymore. I’m so close to surrender, I can already feel his hands on me.
His chest rises and falls, exaggerated. His hand drops, but barely an inch.
“Please. Just talk to me. Tell me…” I have to swallow hard before I speak again. “Tell me what you want.”
“What I want,” he repeats woodenly.
His hand falls to his side. His eyes move off me, staring at nothing. Or maybe only something he can see.
“Yeah,” I manage. My voice rebels, but I push out the words anyway. “Let’s talk, Gabe. Just you and me.”
His eyes slide back to mine.
I squirm under him before I can control myself because that blank face of his ratchets up my fear a thousand notches.
“So you can use me like he did?” he murmurs. Shakes his head. His voice drops to barely a whisper. “My fault. I let him use me. I let him control me…”