Past
“Bernard…hmm…” my stepmother ponders, her wicked red nails caressing each dress hanging up in her dresser. She stills on the stained white lace and I can hear the smile in her voice as she says, “This should do.”
I rub a spot on my arm, still sore from where Mr. Hawke held me last night while he pleasured me like no other man had cared to. He’s been doing so for a month now. “I…” my voice trailed off. “I can’t. Not tonight.”
Morwenna Lancaster plucks out the white dress. “Let your hair down like he likes it…” She goes on like I never spoke. It’s always like this. My words unheard, my pleas ignored. Standing my ground means entertaining more men at night than usual, only the worst of the horde.
I swallow the bile crawling up my throat. “Mother…I don’t feel well.”
She keeps talkin
