Sing Me Your Scars (Apex Voices Book 3) Read Free Page B

free. I offer a tentative smile even though I want
to scream.
    “Shall I sing instead?”
    He groans and pulls me from the bench. The skirts tangle and
twist, and I stumble. He digs his fingers into my shoulders, brings my face
close to his. “Did you truly believe I didn’t know? I have heard you speak to
them. I know they are in there with you. You tell her to play. Or else.”
    “Never,” Anna says.
    Therese’s legs are no longer strong enough to hold us up, and I
sink to the floor. He smiles, the gesture like a whip. Eventually, he stalks
from the room, and I sit with Diana’s arms around me.
    Sophie hisses, “Bastard.”
    “You must teach me how to play,” I tell Anna.
    “I will not.”
    “Please, you must. If you don’t, he will kill you.”
    “It doesn’t matter. I am already dead.”
    “But he may kill us all, and we don’t want to die.”
    The others chime in in agreement.
    “I do not care,” Anna says. “I will give him nothing. He killed
me. Don’t you understand? He killed me!”
    “Yes, I do,” says Sophie. “We do. But this is what we have now.”
    “I do not want this. It is monstrous, and you, all of you, you’re
as dead as I am.”
    “Please,” I say. “Teach me something, anything that will make him
happy. I’m begging you, please.”
    She doesn’t respond.
    §
    Three more trips to the music room. Three more refusals that
leave me with a circlet of bruises around the arms; red marks on my cheeks in
the shape of his hand; more bruises on the soft skin between breasts and belly.
The others scream at Anna when he strikes me, but she doesn’t give in.
    She is strong. Stronger than any of us.
    §
    The fourth trip. The fourth refusal. He pulls me from the
bench with his hands around my neck. His fingers squeeze tighter and tighter
until spots dance in my eyes and when he lets go, I fall to the floor gasping
for air as he walks away without even a backward glance.
    §
    I wake to find his face leering over mine. I bite back the
tears, begin to lift my chemise, and he slaps my hand.
    “If you cannot make her play, I will find someone else who will.”
He traces the stitches just above the collarbone, spins on his heel, and
lurches from the room.
    I sit in the darkness and let the tears flow. I don’t want to die
again. I will not.
    §
    I creep into the passageway and make my way into the
kitchen. Cheese, bread, a few apples. An old cloak hangs from a hook near the
servants’ entrance. I slip it on and pull up the hood before I step outside.
The air is cold enough to sting my cheeks, too cold for the thin cloak, but I
head toward the gate, searching the ground for a rock large enough to break the
lock.
    Perhaps my mother will scream, perhaps my father and brothers
will threaten me with violence, but they cannot hurt me more than he has.
    I’m five steps away from the gate when he grabs me from behind.
All the air rushes from my lungs. I draw another breath to scream, and his hand
covers my mouth. He leans close to my ear.
    “I had such high hopes for you. Perhaps I will have better luck
with the next one.”
    I fight to break free. The gate is so close. So close.
    He laughs. “Do you have any idea what they would do to you? Even
your own parents would tear you limb from limb and toss you into the fire. If I
didn’t need the rest of them, I’d let you go so you could find out.”
    He presses a cloth to my mouth, and I try not to breathe in.
    I fail.
    §
    I wake in the large operating theater. The smell is blood
and decay, pain and suffering. I scream and pound on the door, but it’s barred
from the outside. I sink down and cover my eyes; I don’t want to see the
equipment, the tools, the knives, and the reddish-brown stains. There are no
windows, no hidden doors, no secret passageways. There is no hope.
    I have no idea how much time passes before he comes. “This is
your last chance,” he says. “Will you play?”
    “No,” Anna says.
    “Please, please,” the others