Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Calla
I woke with a start, my heart pounding in time with the fist banging on my bedroom door, hard enough to make the thing rattle in its frame.
Before I was fully awake, instinct had me tightening my grip on Kimori and rolling from the mattress down onto the floor.
As I’d done countless times during my life, I curled up as tightly as I could, trying to be invisible.
Hiding in the small space between the bed and wall, I pulled the covers from the bed down over the top of me.
The snick and squeak of the door opening had me holding my breath.
I knew who it was without looking. My stepfather.
Here to start tormenting me for the day.
“Where the hell are you hiding, Calla? Show yourself right this instant. I do not have time for your childish games this morning.”
With a shaky breath, I forced my thoughts from their spiral, then gripped the edge of the mattress and rose to my knees, revealing my upper half to him.
My stepfather, Jack Bosman, stood in the doorway, looking as elegantly handsome as always in one of his signature tailored suits.
But I saw through his carefully curated mask.
Knew how every detail, from the high shine of his freshly polished black dress shoes to his immaculately styled dark brown hair that didn’t have one strand of gray and everything in between was fake.
All of it was nothing more than stylish camouflage to hide the monster that lived beneath.
I chewed on my lower lip as he came further into the room, his head turning to look in every corner as he prowled like a lion stalking its prey.
Mentally, I shook my head. No, not like a lion.
He wasn’t simply a wild animal hunting because that was the only way he could get the food he needed to survive.
Jack was more sinister than that, more like the sphinx I’d read about last night in the Greek mythology book Joe had given me.
Unlike the Egyptian one that was all about protection, the Greek version would kill all she encountered simply for the joy of it.
Unless you could correctly solve the riddle she’d give you, you were hers for the taking.
Jack differed from the sphinx in that he didn’t use puzzles, he preferred threats and cruel words to tear people apart.
Nor did he ever offer anyone even a chance of an escape.
But the way he enjoyed crushing someone’s mind and spirit was definitely right up the Greek sphinx’s alley.
“Calla! You will pay attention when I’m speaking to you, girl.”
His voice cracked through the air like a whip, jerking my full attention back to him in an instant.
Wincing, I realized my thoughts had spiraled, distracting me, again.
They did it often. It was as though there was a loose thread in my mind that I couldn’t resist pulling, and then down the rabbit hole I’d go.
Jack curled his lip in a sneer, running his gaze over me as though I was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen.
I knew that’s how I felt about him, but I’d never show it on my face.
It wasn’t worth the slap I’d get for it.
Jack wasn’t the first monster I’d been forced to live with.
My biological father had taught me at a very young age the importance of learning and providing what kept a monster calm, what would prevent them from lashing out.
“I don’t have time for your autistic bullshit today, girl. You have exactly twenty minutes to make yourself presentable—to my standards not yours—and to get your things packed. Whatever you don’t pack will be thrown out into the trash where it belongs.”
With his ultimatum delivered, he spun on his heel and I glared at his back as he strode from my room.
Hatred and fury churned in my belly until bile began to rise in my throat.
With a few deep breaths, I forced it down.
If only my mother had never met him. Although, considering who my father was, clearly she had a type.
If she hadn’t met Jack, it would have been someone else just as bad, or maybe even worse, in his place.
I silently vowed to myself that I would not be like her.
I would be more careful in choosing a man to spend my life with.
Assuming I was ever allowed out of the house long enough to seek one out that is.
Thoughts of what my future husband might be like flittered through my mind.
He would be kind and respectful, but also strong, but he’d only use that strength to protect those under their care, never against them.
He’d be patient with me, think my wandering thoughts adorable, or at least quirky.
He’d definitely need to like animals. I would need him to prove that animals liked him before I’d be able to accept any man.
Animals could be excellent judges of character.
They naturally looked deeper than the surface, ignoring how someone looked on the outside to see the truth that lived under that mask.
My husband would also be affectionate with me.
I’d never received more than a quick hug from my father or mother.
Dr. Stringer had given me longer hugs, holding me tightly and rocking me through a meltdown.
But I wanted a partner who would hold my hand when we walked together, maybe even picked me up and spun me around because we were just so happy.
Who would kiss me on my forehead like I’d seen in movies.
The woman always relaxed afterward and I was curious if I would feel the same effect in real life.
Licking my lips, I decided other kisses would be needed too.
I’d want my man to kiss me on the mouth a lot.
At least I thought I might. Often when people touched me, it made my skin crawl and feel like I was covered in ants.
Even my own parents left me feeling that way after they’d hug me.
How horrible would it be if that’s how I felt when a man kissed me?
And if I couldn’t handle kissing, how would I ever go further?
How would I ever find someone to marry, to have a family of my own with, if I couldn’t handle them touching or kissing me?
Pulling myself up to my feet in a rush, my head spun, forcing me to pause for a few moments until it passed.
I needed to drink some water. I probably hadn’t drunk enough yesterday.
I rarely did since coming to live here. It was just so hard to remember mundane things like that.
And eating. It hadn’t been an issue at Pieces to Peace.
There I’d had others to help me remember, who’d been happy to help.
Clenching my jaw, I fought down the tears that were trying to break free.
I missed that place and all the people there.
I’d never been able to work out why Jack and Mom had forced me to leave.
Jack obviously didn’t want me here, and Mom barely acknowledged my existence.
Why hadn’t they let me stay at Pieces to Peace?
Shaking my head, frustration grew. With less than twenty minutes to shower, dress and pack, I didn’t have time to get lost in a thought spiral.
It’d be a lot easier to focus and get things done if I had my meds.
But Jack had gone through my bags when I’d first arrived back here and he’d taken several things away, my meds and my phone among them.
With no phone, I couldn’t even use an app to set reminders to help me.
As my breathing grew faster, I tightened my hold on the one thing that always helped.
The one who had always been by my side. That Jack hadn’t taken away yet.
My biggest fear was he would, he liked to threaten to do it.
He’d learned very quickly it was my weakest spot.
Threaten Kimori and I’d cave into nearly any demand he made.
I held Kimori to my chest, burying my face against the top of her head, the crocheted horns a familiar brush against my skin. Closing my eyes, I imagined the room I’d had at Pieces to Peace. Imagined I was back there, safe and free.
Sensing I was no longer alone, I cringed as I glanced over to see who had come into my room now. I feared the monster had returned and this time he would take Kimori from me. When I saw it was Joe, relief had my muscles relaxing, but I didn’t loosen my hold on Kimori.
“Oh, little darlin’, you don’t have time to stand around. Jack’s in a right state. He really will drag you out of here with nothing if we don’t get packed up.”
While Joe worked for Jack, he was nothing like his boss.
His accent had me thinking he was from Texas because of how similar to those at Pieces to Peace he sounded.
He always followed Jack’s orders without question, but he wasn’t cruel about it.
Didn’t repeat his boss’s harsh words or insults.
He also offered me moments of kindness that I cherished.
Like bringing me books he’d borrow from the library for me.
I often got to daydreaming about what my life would have looked like had Joe been my father, or stepfather.