Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
I wince. Please, God. Don’t let it catch my books on fire.
My father’s gaze is menacing as he unbuckles his belt and tugs it free of his pants.
I suck in a sharp breath and clench my butt cheeks. This is going to be bad.
“Pull your dress up and lean over the side of the trashcan, Lacey,” he growls. “You need to learn a lesson.”
When I hesitate too long, he whips the metal end of his belt against the metal can. It bangs loudly, ringing in the air. “Now!”
I hurry forward, pull my dress up, and hold it in my hands against the side of the can. Tears fall freely. I don’t care as much about the belt as I do the cigarette that is smoldering against a paper towel.
“Don’t you dare move, you ungrateful brat. Ten lashes with the belt. If you move, I’ll start over.”
The first lash takes my breath away. He’s never struck me that hard.
My father leans over and speaks closer to my face. “Count, Lacey. Show me you’ve at least learned something in that school you go to.”
When I inhale his scent, I realize he’s drunk. That scares me more. He’s worse when he’s drunk.
“Count!” he screams.
I jump. Luckily I don’t drop my dress. “One.” My voice squeaks.
He swings the belt back and strikes me again.
“Two.” My butt burns. I’ve never felt this kind of pain. The temperature outside is cool tonight, and the cold air makes me aware of every stripe he’s putting on me. My panties do nothing to protect me from his wrath.
I focus on the smoke coming out of the trash can in front of me. It’s getting worse. Tears are running down my face as my father continues to whip me harder with each stroke. I count, but I’m not really inside my body. I’m inside my book. The one I was reading when he interrupted me.
I’ve read it before. I’ve read all of them before. My books are my prized possessions. They’re all I have that I care about. He didn’t take all of them, just the ones on my nightstand. But those are my favorites. My mother bought them for me.
I cry harder as the corner of one of my books catches on fire and small flames flicker to life. I want to reach in with my bare hands, rescue my books, and put out the flames, but I don’t dare.
I barely notice when the last blow lands against my flesh. I’m pretty sure I’m bleeding in a few places, but all I can do is stare in horror at my books. The flames are growing. My fingers are getting hot where I’m gripping the edge of the can.
Suddenly my father grabs the back of my dress and yanks me so hard the wind is knocked out of me. I stumble backward and fall on my beaten butt.
I cry out at the pain as I land on the dirty concrete covered with cigarette butts that my father didn’t bother to toss into the trash can. He’s screaming at me, but I can’t hear the words. All I can do is sob as I watch the flames grow higher and higher.
My books are gone. My heart is broken into a million pieces. I hate him.
I hate him.
I hate him.
Chapter One
Eight years later…
“Lacey… Earth to Lacey…”
I jerk my gaze up to see Amelia staring at me.
She smiles. “Where were you? I’ve been talking to you, but you didn’t hear me.”
I wince. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugs and points toward my hand. “Are you going to use that crayon? I’ve been waiting for the red one. You’ve been holding it for a while.”
I glance down at my picture. I sat here with Amelia to color as soon as I got to the playroom at the Dungeon, but I haven’t made a single mark on my paper yet. Oops. I lift my hand and hold the crayon out to Amelia. “You can have it.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod and then watch as Amelia colors in the heart on her picture.
“What happened to your arm?” she asks without looking up.
I flinch. How does she know there’s anything wrong with my arm? “Nothing.”
She finishes her heart and hands the crayon back.
I reach for it and hold it loosely in my fingers.
“Why don’t you move out of your father’s house? You could stay with me for a bit until you find a job and save up some money.”
I stare at her. She’s never once spoken to me about my situation. I had no idea she knew anything, and I’m wondering how she does. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She holds my gaze and draws in a slow breath. “I know your father hits you, Lacey. We’ve been friends for a while. I’m observant. I know you don’t like to talk about it, but you need help.”