Testimony of the Blessed (Emissary of the Devil Book 2) Page 4

  Raking in a deep breath, I gathered my courage and leaned in close to Brax, so I could speak into his ear. He inclined his head toward me instantly. I caught a whiff of him—sweet, mesmerizing… and a bit like ash? Or maybe it was smoke. That was odd. I’d never smelled anything like it before. Whatever it was, I liked it.

  “I really need to go home. Can you take me, please?” I pulled away and looked him in the eyes.

  He didn’t even pause. “Yes.”

  Thank God!

  I rose quickly. “Can you let me by, please?” Lance moved aside for me. Brax followed closely behind me.

  “Where you going?” Lance asked, his eyes moving between me and Brax.

  “I need to go,” I apologized.

  “I’ll take you.” Lance was on his feet in moments, ready to go just like I knew he would be.

  “No, that’s OK. You stay here. My stuff is in Brax’s car anyway,” I rushed, desperately needing to just get out of there. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

  I didn’t wait for an answer. I left the restaurant with Brax on my heels. He opened my door for me, and I got in.

  “Do you usually make it a habit to eat and run?” he asked, starting the car. The engine purred as we pulled out of the parking lot.

  “I usually don’t go out after school. This was probably a bad idea.” I was thinking out loud, giving away more than I should have.

  “Why was it a bad idea?” he pressed, seemingly interested.

  Don’t be interested. Don’t make me try to explain what I can’t explain.

  “I just. . . I need to get home is all,” I answered lamely. I added a smile hoping to throw him off my crummy mood.

  He was quiet for a few moments before his deep voice pulled me from my terrifying thoughts.

  “You know, I’m probably the one person in the world you don’t need to lie to.” He glanced at me. “I won’t judge you. That’s not my job.”

  “I’m not lying. I need to get home,” I managed to say. He was incredibly keen and observant. I was surprised. And I wanted more than anything to tell him everything. My life was eating me up inside. I hated it. I wanted to escape so badly.

  God, please don’t let Alan hurt me. Please!

  I balled my hands into fists, my nails digging into the delicate skin of my palms, the pain making me wince. But I needed it. I needed that pain because what I was about to endure was so much worse.

  “So, is whatever’s happening at home going to interfere with your new gig as a cheerleader?” he asked.

  “I hope not,” I whispered, a tremor going through my body as Brax pulled into my driveway as directed. We both stared at my house for a minute.

  “Nice place,” Brax commented. I didn’t say anything, my pulse thundering in my ears as I kept staring at my own personal hell.

  “It’s not so nice,” I managed to say. It was like tearing off a bandage. I opened the door and got out of the car, desperately wanting to get this over with so I could shove the memory deep into the box in my mind labeled, “Do Not Open”. I wrestled with my bag for a moment, so I didn’t even notice that Brax had come up behind me. He tugged my bag easily away from me and shot me a grin that said he had zero fear or worries.

  “I’ll carry it for you.”

  “Um, no. That won’t be necessary,” I breathed out, looking at my house quickly. The curtain in the living room moved. He was there. Watching.

  “I insist,” he stated. We didn’t know one another well, but one thing I got from him was that he was stubborn. Insistent. And there was no way he was going to take no for an answer. I’d just have to deal with the consequences.

  I nodded, chewing my lip painfully. I led the way to my front door, Brax close behind me.

  He came into the house behind me, his eyes taking everything in.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking my bag from him, while trying to guide him back to the door and outside before Alan came back into the room.

  “Magdalena,” Alan’s eerily calm voice greeted me. I froze. “Who’s this?”

  “Brax,” Brax extended his hand to Alan who looked at it with disdain, not bothering to shake it. Brax seemed offended by it. “And you are?”

  No. No. NO! Don’t antagonize him! Just go! Please!

  I reached out and tugged urgently on Brax’s shirt, hoping he’d take a hint and just go. But no. He was too stubborn. Too damn insistent, just like I figured he was.

  “Asking you to leave my house,” Alan’s voice was like ice. “Magdalena isn’t allowed to have guests after school. She has work to get done.”

  I tightened my hold on Brax’s shirt.

  Go! Please! You don’t even understand the damage you’re causing.

  “Is that so?” Brax’s voice was low and thoughtful, his gaze coming to rest on me.

  I took my chance. “Thank you for giving me a ride, Brax.” I stared deeply into his eyes, silently begging him to go. He cocked his head at me before glancing back to Alan, his pretty, blue eyes narrowed.

  “Not a problem,” he moved toward the door.

  Thank God!

  “See you at school tomorrow?” he glanced from me to Alan who was seething behind me.

  “Hope so,” I breathed out, terrified, my body trembling. I fought back my fears and the tears threatening to spill. Brax’s eyes bored into me, lingering on me, his brows furrowed like he was thinking a million and ten things. He opened the door, his eyes not leaving mine. It felt like he was trying to have a silent conversation with me.

  The moment he moved a bit further out the door, I pushed it closed, making him move. The sound of the door clicking shut was like hearing the final nail being pounded into my coffin. Shaking, I turned to face my jailor.

  “You’ve been a very bad girl, Magdalena.” Alan’s lips curved up into a smile. “I’m going to enjoy this more than you know.”

  Chapter 7

  “Say thank you,” Alan breathed out roughly, his belt biting the skin on the back of my thighs. He always made me thank him for the abuse, like I was doing him the favor of okaying what he was doing to me.

  “T-thank you,” I choked out, trying to hold my tears in.

  “And why are you thanking me, Magdalena?” He struck me again. My body flinched as the pain of the belt ricocheted through me, carving wounds deep within me that I knew no amount of time would ever heal. It was like my body had been set on fire, and instead of quelling the flames, Alan was adding more fuel to them just to watch me burn.

  “I-I,” I couldn’t speak. I was quaking far too much for a coherent thought. I had nothing to thank that monster for. His hands came around and gripped my face tightly.

  “For being good to you,” he growled, his breath hot in my ear. “Say it. Thank me.”

  “Thank y-you for-for being good t-to me,” I managed the ugly lie, a tear slipping from my eye. He struck me once more, this time across my back, causing me to lose my balance and tumble forward. His hand came out and snatched me by my ponytail, pulling me painfully back. With a sharp tug, he turned me to face him.

  “You’re beautiful when you try to be strong,” he chuckled darkly. “Tell me you love me, Magdalena.”

  “No,” I whispered hoarsely.

  His hand came out and wrapped around my throat. He pushed me roughly against the wall, cutting my air supply off. I choked, trying to push his tightening hands away.

  “You’re even prettier when you fight me.” His hot breath blew over my face. “Fight harder, Magdalena.” He pressed his body against me. I wanted to vomit. What’s more, I wanted to die as he ground his hips against me, the hardness making me whimper.

  I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I wouldn’t fight to satisfy his sickness. I went to my happy place.

  The lake. Ice cream. Puppies. Brax.

  I winced as his face flashed in my mind.

  “Tell me you love me,” Alan broke through my thoughts. He pressed his lips to my temple before skimming wet kisses to my ear. “Tell me. I see the way you
look at me.”

  “I hate you,” I managed to hiss through clenched teeth. “I fucking hate you!”

  He reared back and hit me across my face. He’d never struck my face. It was a hard and fast rule. People would ask questions if my face had marks. I fell to the ground with a painful thud. He was on me in an instant, his fingers pulling my hair. It tumbled loose and tangled around me in wild waves.

  He fisted a handful and slammed my face into the carpet.

  “I should fuck your pretty little mouth. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he growled, holding me down with one arm. I let out a cry, struggling to get away from him.

  “No!” I screamed. “No!”

  “Shut up! Shut up!” He rolled me onto my back, his face red with anger. He pressed his hand over my mouth roughly. I reached out and tried to fight him off, my nails tearing at his skin. “Stop fighting! Stop,” he commanded me in a deadly, hissing whisper. “Your mother is home now. Make one more sound, and I’ll choke the life out of you and fuck your dead body while she watches. Do you understand?”

  I nodded silently, the fight dying out as tears cascaded down my cheeks. He brought me swiftly to my feet, his mouth set in a hard line. I’d been so terrified that I hadn’t heard the front door open and close, signaling my mother coming home from wherever she’d been. Probably the local liquor store.

  “Clean yourself up and come down for dinner. And for God’s sake, put some makeup on to cover those bruises you made me put on your pretty little face. You look like shit. And I hate it when you look ugly.”

  He walked away from me without a backward glance, closing the door firmly behind him. I let out the breath I was holding, my mind wild with ideas on how to kill him.

  Because I owed both of us that much.

  Chapter 8

  My mom was so drunk she swayed as she sat at the dinner table. She didn’t say much, and when she did, it was mostly a garbled mess of words. She couldn’t even cook. So, Alan called me down to do it, and then proceeded to scream at me, telling me I didn’t know what I was doing and was as worthless as my mother. I ended up making the mashed potatoes three times before he was satisfied. During the second try, he held my face just above the steamy pot, making my skin burn from the heat, threatening to push my face into it if I screwed it up again.

  “May I be excused?” I asked softly as Alan slammed around his silverware.

  “S’ok,” my mom slurred, working on her third glass of wine. I made to get up, but Alan’s hand came out to rest on mine, his mouth set in that ugly firm line I hated.

  “Are you going to tell your mother about the boy you’re seeing?” Alan asked dangerously. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to get me to tell him more about Brax, but there was nothing to tell. He was being extra cruel because he thought I was seeing him. It made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t even be normal in that respect.

  “I’m not seeing anyone,” I murmured. “He’s new at school, and he made the football team. He’s friends with Zach and Jess. They invited me out for pizza, so I went. There’s nothing going on with us. I needed a ride home. That’s all.”

  Alan’s narrowed eyes swept over my face for a moment before he removed his hand from mine.

  “I think that’s just marvelous!” my mother exclaimed drunkenly. “S’marvelous! I think-hic-you should date more! Sussa pretty girl! Don’t you think Maggie should go on a date, Alan?”

  “No,” he ground out, glaring at me. “I do not. Just because you’re a worthless whore, Jane, doesn’t mean you should encourage your daughter to be.”

  I looked down at my hands.

  “You’re sussa an asshole!” my mother proclaimed drunkenly, knocking her wine glass over. The red wine ran like blood across the kitchen table. It dripped onto my blue dress like little blood drops. I didn’t bother to clean it. I simply sat still as stone staring at it.

  “I’m the asshole?” Alan yelled with a derisive snort. “You’re the one who can’t parent your own daughter, so now she’s off running around with different guys! First it was that Zach kid, then Lance, now this one! She’s as slutty as her mother! Keep doing what you’re doing, Jane! You’re mother of the goddamn year!”

  “Maggie, go to your room,” my mother said softly.

  I looked between her and Alan. His eyes were dark as he glared back at me.

  “She’s not to leave. I want her to see this.”

  He rose from his chair and threw his plate against the wall. Food splattered everywhere, the plate shattering. He came at my mom with his teeth barred and struck her face. She fell from her chair onto the floor in a sobbing heap.

  I closed my eyes tightly, terrified.

  God, please help us! Please!

  When I opened my eyes, Alan was kicking my mother as she lay curled up in a ball on the dining room floor.

  “You’re a drunken whore! No wonder Maggie’s father left you! You’re worthless! Useless! And your whore of a daughter is following in your footsteps!”

  “Stop!” I cried out, rushing at Alan. He was going to kill her if he didn’t stop. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed my face down into my plate of mashed potatoes. I let out a gasp of pain as he pushed me painfully down, grinding my face against the warm food.

  “Go to your room, Maggie,” he growled in my ear. “Your mom will be fine. I promise.”

  “Please, don’t hurt her,” I sobbed. “I’ll do anything.”

  “I know you will.” He chuckled darkly in my ear, releasing me. I took a look at my mom who was thankfully still moving on the floor, before rushing upstairs to my room. I slammed the door behind me and went into my bathroom where I locked the door. In a flash, I was in my sanctuary, the water pelting me as I cried, sitting on the floor of my shower. When had my life gotten this way? Why did my dad leave me to a life like this? I was afraid. So afraid.

  But I had to have faith.

  My dad used to tell me there was a reason for everything.

  I just had to figure out the purpose for all this. I had to be strong. I’d take my mom out of here when I turned eighteen. Knowing I’d be able to leave was the only thing that kept my sanity. The only thing that kept me hanging on.

  But I was starting to slip, my mind growing darker as the days wore on.

  If something didn’t give soon, I was going to break — the bits of who I once was shattering and unfixable.

  And for what felt like the millionth time that day, I said a silent prayer to God, asking for him to send me a miracle.

  Chapter 9

  My house was quiet after dinner. Alan didn’t come into my room to bother me. My mom’s soft footsteps passed by my bedroom. She was going to go sleep it off. I wished I could.

  My phone buzzed around nine that night with a message from Lance.

  Can I see you tonight? I’ve been worried.

  I looked in the mirror on my vanity, tears biting my eyes. There was an ugly purple bruise forming on my cheek. My thumb hovered over the screen before I replied.

  No. Tonight isn’t a good night.

  It didn’t take long for him to reply. Are you OK? I had a bad feeling.

  I’m fine. Just tired and not feeling well, I shot the answer off quickly.

  Get some rest then. I’ll see you tomorrow?

  I bit my lip, my eyes stinging. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. Maybe. Goodnight.

  Feel better, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.

  Sweet dreams. I wished. All I had were nightmares. I closed my history book and climbed into bed, making sure to turn the lights out on the way. Brax’s face entered my mind then, and I wondered what he was doing. Had he gone back to Rue’s? Was he going to take Jess up on her offer? The thought made my stomach twist uncomfortably. I didn’t want him to want her.

  He’d never want someone like me. I was too broken. If he ever knew the things I’d been through, he’d walk away disgusted. He’d leave, just like my dad did.

  I fell asleep to my morose thoughts. When I awoke, it wasn’
t because it was morning. It was because Alan was pulling my covers back and climbing into bed with me. I stiffened as his hands came out and pulled me close, his body spooning mine.

  “I’m sorry for earlier,” he murmured in my ear, sending a shiver through my body. “I just lose control sometimes.” He planted a kiss on my neck just below my ear. I ground my teeth, my breathing shallow. “I got jealous seeing you with him. I can’t imagine how he must feel to be able to touch you and for you to like it. Do you like it when he touches you?” His arms surrounded me, his breath hot on my cheek making me want to vomit.

  “He doesn’t touch me. We don’t even know each other,” I whispered, trying to detach myself from the situation.

  “Good. Good girls don’t let boys touch them. And you’re a good girl, right, Maggie?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, hating the ugly truth of the situation I was in. No, I didn’t let boys touch me. I was forced to let a grown man try to though. It was a battle I’d been fighting since my mom married Alan four years ago.

  “I’m proud of you. You keep our secrets so well,” Alan continued in a disgustingly soft voice. His thumb traced small circles on my arms making me shiver. He lay beside me silently, the only sound his breathing. I didn’t say anything, frozen and terrified beneath his touch.

  “Someday, things will get better. You know that, right? You’ll realize that this all had a purpose,” his voice sounded faraway and detached. I remained unmoving, fear the thing keeping me pinned down. That and his strong hands that I knew would lash out at me if I tried anything.

  When I continued to not say anything, his hand traveled up to rest on my abdomen. He tugged at me until I was facing him, our bodies too close for comfort.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” His fingers brushed my face where my bruise was, and I flinched back. “I have such a hard time controlling myself around you. I want you to know I’m not this monster,” his voice was low as he spoke. His breath reeked of alcohol. “I just want to see you. Take your clothes off for me, Maggie.”