Chapter 3

Once again, he used his foot to shove me aside.

However, I crawled over, even though my clothes were stained with blood.

Dad’s face was ashen. He stared murderously at me, his facial muscles twitching with rage. It was as if he would kill me any second now.

Eve’s eyes filled with fear, and she shook her head desperately. “No, don’t worry about me. Just stay back.”

Dad dragged her into the room, and soon, the sound of agonizing screams filled the air. It was heart-wrenching and sent shivers down my spine.

I slumped to the ground, my fists clenched so tightly that my knuckles turned white as I fought back the urge to vomit.

Our neighbor, Mrs. Hart, sat on her porch, sneering.

“Didn’t think old Frank still had it in him. My man’s no good; comes home and passes out like a pig. College girls like her have it easy—if it’s not the husband, it’s the father-in-law. There’s always a man around taking care of them.”

She looked at me with a mocking smile. “You’re still too young to understand, Emma, so kind and caring. You feel sorry for her, but she’s the lucky one.”

My eyes burned with anger, but I forced myself to stay still.

The screaming from the room stopped abruptly, leaving an eerie silence.

I ignored the pain and hobbled to the door, trying to push it open, but it was locked.

Through the narrow crack, I saw her lying on the old bed, her face pale and bruised. Tears streamed from her eyes.

If this continued, it would kill her.

I pounded frantically on the door, shouting, “Dad, Mike’s back! He’s outside watching you!”

His movements stopped abruptly. He pulled up his pants and opened the door, looking terrified for a moment before realizing no one was there.

His eyes darkened again.

He grabbed a hammer from the table, swinging it at me. I dodged, fear propelling me, but he was quick.

About to be caught up, I ran behind Mrs. Hart, using her as a shield.

“Frank, be careful!” she yelped. “Don’t you hit me!”

I clung to her, pleading, “Please, Mrs. Hart, help me. He’s going to kill me!”

She reluctantly spoke up. “Come on, Frank. You don’t want to ruin her. She’s worth money. Remember, you promised her to my family.”

Dad stopped, seething with rage. “Should’ve strangled you the moment you were born, you little brat! Nothing but trouble!

“If you speak out again, I’ll cut out your tongue.”

I was thrown into the pigpen; the stench filling my nose as I landed on the dirty straw. It was my other home, the place I ended up in whenever Dad was furious.

Since Mike died, Dad refused to let anyone mention his name.

Mike was a sore subject for Dad.

After all, Mike wasn’t always mentally impaired.

He used to be sharp, just like Dad, in both temper and personality.

I hated him.

When we were kids, he’d encourage Dad to hit me. As we grew older, he’d do it himself, leaving bruises all over me.

Mom tried to stop him a few times, but Mike beat her so badly that she couldn’t walk for days.

As Mike grew older, the way he looked at me changed, too.

One day, he dragged me out to the cornfield, saying someone wanted to play a game with me.

There was another guy there, someone Mike often hung out with. He pulled down my pants and started touching me.

I fought back. My mom told me that no one could touch me there.

However, Mike’s eyes blazed with anger when he saw me struggling and he slapped me. He told me to behave and held me down.

Since he was stronger, I couldn’t fight him off. I was pinned down, corn stalks breaking beneath me.

The tears flowed, but there was nothing I could do.

That man pulled down his pants and climbed on top of me.