55. Brynn
I t’s evening. The night chill is already starting to set in.
Does Conrad know I’m gone yet? Will he be looking for me?
I’m sitting in my chair, staring out at a scene that looks so unfamiliar. There’s a great formal garden with box hedging and roses all pruned and nicely managed while the setting sun illuminates a lake, making it look otherworldly.
My head hurts. My eyes feel heavy.
I know I was bad, that I upset them, but I don’t understand it.
I’ve been cooped up in this room by myself like they needed to tuck me away and pretend I didn’t exist.
I’m hungry. It feels like breakfast was so long ago now, and I know I didn’t have anything for lunch.
As if they can read my thoughts the door opens and Ingrid walks in, giving me a tight smile and then she starts setting up a table. Three places. Three glasses. All of it neatly arranged.
I watch in silence. It feels like every time I speak, I make her angry and I don’t want her to hit me again.
She turns to look at me again and runs her eyes over my dress like it’s no longer appropriate.
“Do you need to change?” She asks.
I shake my head.
She flares her nostrils. “Do you need to use the toilet?”
Again, I shake my head. I was able to manoeuvre the chair in, to hike my dress up, to sort myself out. It took some doing, but at least I didn’t have an audience.
“Fine then, they’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Who?” I ask. Is it Conrad, has he arrived?
She must see something in my face because she scowls more. “Who do you think?” She snaps before walking out.
I stare at the door, at where she all but slams it behind her. Is it locked? I never thought to try. But why would they lock me in?
Conrad used to tie me up to a bed.
I know that’s true; I can see the evidence of it around my wrists. I can see where the rope bit into my skin and made it red raw.
My hands grab the metal handles, and I spin the wheels, moving quickly. My heart slams into my chest unsure if I want to know what the answer to this is, but as my hand reaches the doorknob it swings open.
I cry in shock, almost toppling the chair.
My father frowns, staring at me for a moment. “What are you doing?” He asks, not sounding pissed off. Sounding curious. Like he’s caught me being cheeky rather than breaking the rules.
“I just wanted to see…” I mumble.
“See what?”
“If I was locked in.”
His eyebrows raise. “Why would we lock you in?”
I shrug. My cheeks flame, and it feels like you could fry an egg on my face.
Eggs, we had eggs for breakfast.
“Come sit at the table.” The other man says, the bald man from before. He gestures to the corner, and I realise they’re the ones I’m having dinner with.
I start to wheel myself towards my place, and then feel as my father takes the handles behind my back and helps.
The cutlery is so shiny. It’s polished silver, heavy too. I pick up the knife, taking the weight of it in my hand. Magnus’s cutlery was like this, heavy, expensive.
The other man sits down, and he places his hands together, his eyes fixed on my face while my father takes his seat beside him.
“Who are you?” I ask. No one’s even told me his name. What he’s even doing here.
“This is Xavier,” My father explains. “He’s a close friend of mine, and amongst other things, he’s very highly skilled in managing these sorts of situations.”
“What situations?” I frown.
“Your husband.” Xavier says pointedly.
My eyes dart between them. I can’t figure out what that means. “Is Conrad coming here?” I ask hopefully, and then I remember how they reacted the last time. How Ingrid slapped me. I don’t want to get slapped again. I don’t want them to hurt me.
My father sighs. But Xavier, Xavier leans in, studying me more.
“Do you miss your husband, Brynn?” He asks.
When I nod enthusiastically, my father scowls more, while he just chuckles. “Fuck, he did a number on her, didn’t he?” He mutters.
“What’s a number?” I reply. What does that mean? Is this a puzzle, like sudoku? I liked that. I liked those numbers.
He tilts his head up with a look that tells me he’s messing with me now. “It means he fucked you over. Fucked you up.” He states.
“Fucked.” I repeat. Yeah, he did fuck me. But that’s what husbands do, and good wives want that. Good wives should need that.
I feel a wave of something hit me at the memory of him. Between my thighs it suddenly feels so wet, so desperate. I want to rub them together, to try to ease the pressure but my legs don’t move.
“Brynn?” My father says, “Are you okay?”
I nod my head, even though I’m not. I’m so far from okay. It feels like sweat is pooling along my forehead. I feel so thirsty for something so much more satisfying than a mere drink.
As the door opens, I jolt in my chair. Ingrid glances at me, and then she and her friend start placing the food down.
It feels awkward, tense even. There’s something going on here, something my muddled mind can’t quite figure out.
My stomach grumbles loudly enough that my cheeks heat. I pick up my cutlery and dig in, practically wolfing down the beetroot and goat cheese starter.
Both my father and Xavier take their time eating theirs. I guess they actually had lunch, unlike me. I wonder if I’ll have the balls to request more food tomorrow, though I doubt it. I don’t want to rock the boat. I don’t want to cause trouble.
When I look up again, my father is staring at me, and for a second it feels so odd to look at him, to know who he was, to remember all the little entries my mother wrote about him.
“Why didn’t you come for us?” I blurt out.
He frowns, narrowing his eyes. “I had no idea she was pregnant. If I did, I would have made sure she married me.”
The way he says it, he doesn’t sound heartbroken, he sounds angry. Absolutely furious.
“But they wouldn’t let you.” I whisper.
He frowns more. “What?”
“I know what happened.” I state. “I found her diary, I read it.”
He sits back in his chair, his lips curling as if I’ve said something funny. “I forgot about that.” He says in such a different tone.
I don’t know what to say. How to reply. It sounds like he forgot about us. About me.
Silence seems to settle between us and the maids bring the food. More delicious hot food. I almost squeal when I see the mash.
“Mash like my brain.” I declare, giggling.
Ingrid freezes, staring at me dumbfounded. My father waves her away.
I chew my food. I chew each mouthful. And my father doesn’t take his eyes off me for a second.
“What do you mean by ‘mashed like your brain’?” Xavier asks.
I don’t like him. I don’t know why I suddenly realise that, but there’s something about him that puts a chill up my spine. But he’s also my father’s friend. And I trust him, don’t I? Don’t I?
“My brain was broken.” I reply. “So, they fixed it.”
“How?” My father asks.
I gulp, dropping the cutlery. Remembering that moment, that pain. My hands instinctively cover my eyes and all the bruising that’s still there.
“They poked me with ice-picks.” I state. “They poked my eyes, and I thought I would go blind. But then they removed my brain. All the broken bits came out. And now I’m fixed. And I can still see.”
Xavier and my father exchange a startled look.
“He gave you a lobotomy?” Xavier says.
Lobot-a-what? I shrug. Maybe that’s what it was. Maybe it was something else. It doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that I’m good now.
“Lucas,” Xavier says, “If that’s true…”
“It makes no difference.” My father states, batting his hand.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Xavier, look at her, look…”
“I am looking.” Xavier snaps.
“You’re not seeing what I’m seeing.” My father replies as Xavier rolls his eyes. “I see her, I see her mother, I see Ophelia. She’s the spitting image of her…”
“She’s fucked. She can barely string a coherent sentence together.”
“We don’t need her to talk.” My father laughs. “We just need her body, her womb.”
“Womb.” I murmur, and they both look at me.
“I’m not doing it.” Xavier states, folding his arms, dropping his gaze over me like I’ve got something wrong with me.
“We had an agreement. We had a deal.” My father snaps.
“You think I want to fuck that?” Xavier sneers.
“Like you haven’t had worse.” My father says dismissively. “Look at her, look at her body. She’s beautiful. Her breasts are big, her skin is perfect…”
“Bruised.” Xavier states. “Battered and bruised, and already used by a Blake of all fucking people.”
“We had a deal.” My father snaps again.
“I could breed with any bitch, I don’t need…”
“An Asher?” My father says. “Yes, you fucking do. You want to be Chapter Lord, you want to replace Titus, you want them to follow you, then you need my name. You need my blood. Founder blood.”
Blood. So much blood. I remember it, all over my hands, all over the floor. I shut my eyes, shaking my head. I don’t want to go back there; I don’t want to ever go there.
“Go where?” My father asks and I realise I spoke out loud.
“Oblivion.” I whisper.
He reaches over, taking my hand. “Don’t worry Brynn, you’ll never go back there again. No one is going to hurt you here, as long as you’re a good girl.”
“Good girl,” I repeat. I am a good girl. I am good now. Conrad fixed me.
Xavier pours more wine into my glass. I don’t remember even drinking the first lot, but I take a shaky hold of it and sip it to be polite.
The maids clear our plates and then bring out the desserts. I lick my lips as I see a big serving of apple crumble being placed before me.
I don’t think anything of the fact that neither Xavier nor my father have anything in front of them. That I’m the only one eating.
“She was so beautiful.” My father says suddenly.
I look up, the spoon poised between my bowl and my mouth.
His eyes seem to glisten as he runs his hand over his jaw. “First time I saw her was at a recital. She sang so well, and she had such presence. Whenever I went to see your grandfather, she would be there, waiting for me, and I’d always ensure I gave her a little present.”
I rest my chin on my hand, no longer interested in the food. “Tell me more,” I plead. No one ever tells me anything about my mother. Nothing except the fact that she’s a whore, that she deserved what she got.
He sighs. “She and your aunt didn’t get along. Giselle was naughty. She would steal things; steal presents I gave Ophelia. I wanted to take her away, but Ophelia wasn’t of age, so I had to wait. But it was so hard. Watching her, seeing how everyone else admired her…”
He trails off, lifting his wine glass to take a long sip.
“Why did you leave?” I ask. I know that’s what happened. He had to go on a trip, and she couldn’t reach him. That’s when she found out she was pregnant.
He tilts his head, “I had no choice. They were onto me. A friend helped me get away, but they’d found out about us, about the Esau. They wanted to destroy us all. I had to run.”
“And you didn’t want to take my mother with you?”
He shakes his head. “I couldn’t. She was still in school…”
His words seem to fade out as I suddenly become aware of how tired I am. How my head is spinning. I stifle a yawn, but another one rushes to take its place.
My father gives me a gentle smile. “Let’s get you to bed. You’ve had a hard few days.”
“I’m okay.” I whisper.
I am okay. I’m fixed.
He stands up, barking for the maids to come clear everything away and then he’s fixing the fire, ensuring the room is heated while I sit there in my chair, unsure what to do.
Xavier is standing now, standing at the window, like he can see through the darkness.
I expect him to leave. I expect them both to, but as the maids drop a curtsy and shut the door, it’s more than clear that that’s not what is happening.
My father walks over to me, picks me up out of the chair and carries me to the bed.
I mumble about needing a maid to help undress me, and he shakes his head.
“We can do it.” He says.
I shake my head quickly. No. I can’t allow that. Conrad wouldn’t like that. He doesn’t like anyone seeing me naked.
My father crouches down so that he’s eye to eye with me. “Don’t be shy now, Brynn. You’re just as beautiful as your mother was. Don’t you want to show us?”
I look between them as my heart thumps just a little louder.
He places his hands on the straps of my dress and then he slides them now, exposing my entire upper body. My nipples instantly harden, something screams in my head for a second before it goes silent.
“Such a pretty girl,” My father says, reaching to cup my breasts. “You’re curvier than your mother was,”
Is this normal? Is this what parents do?
My father jerks his head for Xavier to come over and he walks purposefully to stand beside him, his eyes now fixed on my exposed flesh.
“Feel her,” My father instructs.
Xavier shoots him a look before he reaches down and gives both my breasts a hard grope.
I don’t like it. I don’t like any of this. I let out a whimper and my father tsks.
“I thought you said your husband fixed you?” He murmurs.
Fix. I was fixed. I mean, I thought I was fixed.
He gives my right breast a little slap, hard enough to sting, hard enough to leave a little red mark. “Prove that you’re fixed, Brynn. We wouldn’t want to have to do that again, to use those ice picks…”
I don’t want that. I don’t think I could take that pain again, but I also don’t know what to do. What this is.
Xavier pushes himself between my legs, crumpling the skirt right up and then he’s shoving me back, shoving me so that I’m lying flat on the duvet.
An alarm seems to go off again, it repeats in my head. I try to sit up, and Xavier is holding me down.
“I thought you gave her enough to make her relax?” He says, but not to me.
My father shrugs back. “It should have been enough, maybe it just needs a few more minutes.”
Xavier shakes his head. “We do this now, or I’m out.”
“Don’t act like you don’t want to fuck her,” My father sneers, grabbing my arms back. “Her mind might be useless, but her body is still good. I guarantee once you’ve had a taste, you’ll be happy enough to keep returning…”
Xavier grunts, pushing my underwear aside and he jams two fingers into me.
“No,” I gasp. He can’t do that, he’s not allowed. I’m married to Conrad. I belong to Conrad.
“Brynn,” My father says again, sounding so disappointed. “Don’t you want to be a good girl? Don’t you want to make your father proud?”
I do. I want that. But this isn’t allowed, is it?
My tears start streaming down my face as Xavier starts thrusting in and out of me.
“She’s a tight bitch,” He comments. “I bet Conrad loved that.”
“Conrad,” I gasp. I want Conrad. I want him here. I want him doing this. Not this man, not this stranger.
“Brynn,” My father growls before slapping me across the face. “If you won’t behave, then we won’t have any choice.”
Choice.
Choice. Choice. Choice.
I didn’t have any choice when Conrad stole me away. When he married me.
I don’t have any choices here, do I?
I shake my head again, and try to lash out with the only part of my body that still works.
My father pins my arms over my head, his face so close to mine as Xavier rolls my dress up, exposing all of my most private parts.
“I don’t like fucking her with that brand on her,” He remarks. “That has to be fixed.”
“Fine, we’ll fix it.” My father replies.
Fix.
They have to fix me.
Xavier lets out another disgruntled huff, pulling my legs up, pulling them wide, and he moans about how he’s ‘having to do all the work here.’
“Your whores can ride you, my daughter is better than that.” My father says.
Better. I was meant to be better.
But this doesn’t make me better, does it? This doesn’t make me good?
“No,” I repeat again, “I married Conrad, I’m his wife,”
“Stupid fucking bitch,” Xavier snarls, getting right into my face, “This might be hard for you to understand seeing as you only have half a brain, but your marriage doesn’t count because it hasn’t been ratified by the Senate. That means, you’re fair fucking game. So you’re going to lie here, and you’re going to let me fuck you. You’re going to let me use you any way I decide, and once you’ve given me a few sons, then maybe you might have proved your worth…”
No, no children. I don’t want his children.
“…your father here is giving me permission. He’s a Founder, you’re a Founder, that means he can bend the rules. But you will lie here, and you will take my cock willingly, do you understand?”
He doesn’t give me a second to reply. He just rams himself into me.
It feels horrific, it hurts so much more than all the times Conrad forced himself onto me. I guess that’s because of all the damage I did to myself. I can feel my muscles refusing to move, I can feel those stitches catching with each brutal thrust.
“Be a good girl,” My father says, keeping his eyes fixed, not on my face, but where his friends is currently penetrating me, “Show your father how good you can be…”
I don’t want to be good. I don’t want to be this.
But my body responds all the same. I know it’s not technically my fault. I know on some level that Conrad made me like this, that he turned my body into this, but the way my pulse starts to beat faster, the way everything just thrums…
I start screaming, start trying to buck them off, but I’m too broken from the way Conrad smashed my spine to stand any chance of succeeding.
Xavier growls, “Shut that bitch up.”
And my father rams his hand over my mouth, telling me what a disappointment I am. What a terrible daughter I am too.