47. Addy ⚠
Chapter forty-seven
Addy ?
T he key turns with a whisper, and I step into the dim quiet of the Winthrop manor. Everything that's happened still prickles at the back of my mind, mingling with the undercurrent of anxiety that never quite leaves me. The house seems to hold its breath as I slip off my shoes, the air thick with an eerie stillness that has my own breath hitching in my chest.
I stomp upstairs and make my way toward my bedroom, not paying any attention to my surroundings. Neither Cheryl nor William has a regular schedule, but no one should be home at this time of day.
Oh, how wrong I am.
"Home early?" The voice slices through the silence like a shard of glass, and I whirl around, heart hammering against my ribs.
William looms in the upstairs hallway, his shadow stretching long and ominous across the polished floors. There’s a darkness in his eyes that sends a shiver skittering down my spine, and it has nothing to do with the chill of the house.
"I wasn't feeling well," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
"Is that so?" His tone is deceptively mild, but there's a glint in his gaze that tells me he's not buying it. "And you're here all alone?"
I nod, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind my ear, fighting to keep my composure. William's presence always sets me on edge, like a cat poised to flee at the first sign of danger. He steps closer, and his proximity feels like a threat. I resist the urge to step back.
"Of course I'm alone," I assure him, hoping my words sound convincing. It's not a lie—after seeing Chess and the truth of the situation, I hadn't wanted to be near the other two either. But there's something about the way William watches me, like he’s trying to unearth secrets I don't even know I'm keeping.
"Interesting." The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It's the quiet before the storm, and I can almost sense the thunder rolling in, ready to strike without warning.
"Was there something you needed from me?" My question hangs between us, laced with a cautiousness born from too many encounters that have left me feeling frayed and exposed.
"From you?" His chuckle is low and humorless. "No, Adelaide. I was just curious about your unexpected return." He takes another step forward, invading my space. "Curiosity, as they say, killed the cat. But sometimes, it reveals the rat."
I swallow hard, green eyes locked onto his, refusing to show the fear that threatens to consume me. I've learned to wear my armor well after years in the foster system and even worse, my years in this house; it's a defense that's become second nature. I won't let him see how desperately I want to retreat to the safety of my room, to lock the door and melt away from this confrontation.
"Then consider your curiosity satisfied," I say, forcing a brittle smile onto my lips. "I'm just going to head to my room to study."
"Study," he repeats, as if tasting the word, pondering its flavor. "Oh, Adelaide. I don't think that will be necessary."
My pulse hammers in my ears, a frenetic drumbeat as I try to slip past William's looming presence. But he isn't done; something about me has caught his attention—like a shark sensing blood in the water.
"Where do you think you're going?" His voice is deceptively calm, but there's an edge to it that sends a shiver down my spine.
"Like I said, to study." My words come out sharper than I intend, tinged with the frustration of the day and the fear that always lurks beneath the surface around him.
His hand shoots out, fingers encircling my throat with an iron grip, and suddenly I'm airborne—my back slamming against the wall with a force that rattles my teeth. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my hands clawing at his vice-like grip. The wallpaper digs into my skin, the floral pattern blurring before my eyes.
"Watch your tone, Adelaide," he hisses, his face inches from mine, his breath foul with the stench of old coffee and contempt.
"Let go," I croak, the words barely a whisper under the crushing pressure. "You're hurting me."
"Am I?" His lips twist into a cruel smirk. "Maybe you like it rough. Isn't that right? Whoring yourself out to those trashy boys at school?"
I try to shake my head, to deny his vile accusations, but his grip only tightens, stealing away what little air I can claim. Panic claws at my chest, a wild, desperate thing that threatens to consume me.
"Why should I settle for just your mouth when you're so eager to spread your legs for them?" His other hand roams over my body, a vulgar imitation of intimacy that makes my stomach churn.
"Stop," I manage to gasp out, hot tears stinging the corners of my eyes. "You're wrong."
"Am I?" He leans closer still, and I can see the madness dancing in his eyes, a dark abyss threatening to swallow me whole.
"Please," I plead, the word barely more than a choked sob. My mind races, searching for some way out of his grasp, some way to protect myself from the nightmare unfolding before me.
But I know, deep down, that my pleas are as futile as trying to stop the tide with my bare hands.
I wrench my head back, trying to escape the steel vise of William's fingers. "I've done nothing wrong," I spit out, defiance fueling my voice despite the fear that's coiling like a snake in my belly. "I've followed every single twisted rule you've set."
"Is that so?" His words are ice, and they cut through the air between us. The hand not pinning me to the wall begins a slow, predatory descent toward the waistband of my jeans. "Perhaps it's time for me to verify your innocence, Adelaide."
My heart slams against my ribs, and I freeze, his threat locking me in place more effectively than any chains could. No. This can't be happening.
"No," I hear myself say, the words erupting from some hidden well of courage that surprises even me. "Don't touch me."
The look on his face shifts, the cruel amusement giving way to something darker, something far more dangerous. "You're saying no to me?" he hisses, his grip on my neck tightening momentarily before he releases me, stepping back just enough to let me feel the precarious edge of freedom.
"Y-yes," I stammer, the newfound confidence shaking within me. "It's wrong. You know it's wrong. If I told..."
For a fraction of a second, there's a stunned silence. Then, with a snarl, William lunges forward, his hands reaching for me with a violence that promises retribution.
"Who would believe you, you little rat?"
I shove him with every ounce of strength I've harbored from years of shielding myself, a silent battle cry echoing within the walls of my mind.
" Just get to your room ," I mentally chant, pushing past the fear that claws at my throat.
Just get to your room. Just get to your room. Just get to your room.
"Where do you think you're going?" he snarls, his voice a blade slicing through the tension-charged air.
Ignoring him, I dart forward, my heart pounding in rhythm with each desperate step towards the sanctuary of my bedroom.
"Adelaide!" His voice hits me like a physical force, but I'm almost there. My hand reaches for the doorknob—
The impact is sudden and brutal; William's body slams into mine, sending us both crashing to the ground just shy of escape. "You're not going anywhere!"
"Get off me!" My voice is strangled, gasping as I grapple beneath his weight. Panic surges, and I reach for my phone, my only lifeline. My fingers tremble, betraying my desperation as they claw at my pocket.
"Pathetic." His breath is hot against my ear, his words dripping with contempt. "Can't even stand up for yourself without calling for help?"
"Let go!" I manage to wrench my phone free, but my grip is unsteady, my movements erratic with adrenaline.
"Who are you gonna call, huh? Those boys? You think they can save you from me?" William mocks me, his laughter harsh and cold.
I don't reply, focusing all my will on the screen, trying to swipe it open, to find some way out of this. But my phone slips from my grasp, clattering on the hardwood floor.
His weight settles on my lower back, and I can feel his breath against the shell of my ear, thick with malice. "No one's here to protect you, Adelaide?"
"Get off me!" I say, my voice strained under his mass. But it's as if he doesn't hear, his fingers crudely tugging at the fabric of my pants. His grasp is clumsy, fueled by a dark intent that chills my blood even in the struggle.
"Father, stop!" I plead, my fight mingling with a rising terror. My hands scrabble at the floor, seeking something, anything to gain leverage. I grab hold of my phone again, navigating to what I need.
"Shut up," he hisses, yanking with more force. The sound of fabric straining is sickeningly loud in the silent hallway. There's a brief moment where I think I might break free, but then my phone—my fleeting chance at salvation—is slapped from my hand. It careens away, skidding down the hallway with a mocking dance, leaving me bereft and exposed.
"Please... don't do this." Tears blur my vision, but I refuse to let them fall. I won't give him the satisfaction.
"Got to make sure you're not lying to me." His words cut through the air, and I feel a sharp intrusion as he forces his way past the barrier of my clothes. Pain flares, white-hot and blinding, an invasion more personal than any before.
"Stop it! You're hurting me!" I cry out, the words ripped from a throat tight with fear. His violation feels like a brand, marking me in ways that transcend the physical torment.
"Quiet," William commands, his voice a low growl as he continues his ruthless search for a truth only he believes in. "Just making sure you're still pure for me."
"Please... Father..." I try to push back against the invasion, against the suffocating weight of his body and the darkness he brings with it. But with every movement, he only presses in deeper, a twisted assertion of control over my being.
"Found what I was looking for," he finally murmurs, an ugly note of satisfaction in his tone. But it's a hollow victory; in seeking to claim my honesty, he's only further stripped away the remnants of trust and safety I clung to so desperately.
I'm scrambling, trying to get away, but William's grip is like iron. He flips me onto my back with ease, his face twisted in a grimace that speaks of satisfaction and something darker. My arms flail, trying to push him off, but he's a mountain compared to my willow frame.
"Stop fighting, Adelaide," he growls as he straddles my chest, his weight crushing the air from my lungs. "You know you can't win. You owe me this. I took you in, fed you clothed you. The least you can do is this."
"Get off me!" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. His hand finds my hair, yanking my head back as he frees himself from his trousers. My eyes widen in terror, the green in them surely eclipsed by the sheer fear. No, not this. Please, not this.
"Open up, sweetheart," he sneers, bringing himself closer to my face. I turn my head, trying to avoid him, but his grip on my hair is unyielding. And then, it's happening—he's forcing himself into my mouth, the act so violent and degrading tears spring unbidden to my eyes.
And, yet I'm silently thankful. This I can manage. This I've survived. But, he's more unhinged than he's ever been.
I can't breathe. Panic surges through me, stealing the fight right out of my bones. William isn't even pretending to care, his movements brutal and punishing. I want to scream, to bite, to do anything to make him stop, but there's no room for air or defiance. Only the cold, hard truth that I am powerless under his weight, his force.
"Good girl," he grunts, the words slicing through me as I struggle beneath him. I keep trying to push him away, but my hands might as well be batting at stone. The world is narrowing down to this one horrific moment, where I am nothing but an object for his twisted desire.
The bile rises, burning my throat. I gag, once, twice, a futile attempt to expel the intrusion that's choking me. But William doesn't relent, his grip a vice in my hair. My stomach churns, a violent protest that can't be contained—then it happens. I vomit, the acrid stench filling my nostrils as it splatters over him and me.
"Disgusting," he spits, yet there's a twisted delight in his eyes that chills me to the core. He shoves harder, the vile act fueled by my body's rebellion. Tears mix with the mess on my face, and I am drowning in humiliation and despair.
Finally his thrusts start to slow, though they're no less violent. I gasp for breath as he pulls himself free.
"Clean this up," he commands coldly when he finally steps back, zipping up his trousers with a sneer. I lay there, broken, covered in my shame. He towers above me, the monster of this house, my personal hell. "Or you'll wish you had never been born."
His footsteps fade down the hall, leaving me alone with the remnants of his cruelty. Consequences—always looming, always a threat that keeps me caged in this nightmare. Slowly, I push myself up, every movement an agony of spirit. I know I have no choice but to obey, to erase the traces of his violation. But inside, the flicker of defiance still burns—a silent promise that one day, somehow, this will end.
And it better fucking be soon. Or I might add murder to my list of sins.