spoke much about this side of his family. I’m not sure why, nor did I ever think to ask. Talking isn’t our strongest suit anyway. My relationship with my stepbrother isn’t conventional. We party. We do drugs, and yeah, we almost ended up in bed together once, but it’s more than that. I feel a strong connection with him, stronger than I ever thought possible.
He loves me.
He told me that he was the only person in the world that did.
I believe him more and more every day.
Each passing moment has me reaching for my phone, but of course, it’s been taken from me, along with what was left of my freedom. The instinct remains. I want to talk to him. I want to hear his voice, smell his skin. I want to get out of this hellhole and go back to the city to be with him where I belong.
I climb back into the bed and wrap the blanket around me to get warm. My skin quickly breaks out in a cold sweat and I find myself begging for another glass of cold water.
Chapter 2
I’m A Prisoner
“Rise and shine!”
I roll over to find Charlie standing over me, completely dressed and ready to start his day. “What?” I mutter.
“It’s 6 A.M., Claire,” he says. “Time to start your chores.”
I sit up. “What?” I repeat.
He chuckles. “Get dressed, wear something you can move around in. There’s some extra eggs and bacon downstairs. Get something to eat. Meet me at the barn by 6:30, not a minute after. Got me?”
The words blur together in my mind. I’m so tired, I can barely hear him. He walks out of the room, leaving me behind in my exhausted confusion. I sit up and look out the window. The morning sun sits barely above the horizon.
I fall back down onto my pillow and close my eyes.
“Claire!”
The force of his voice shoots me upright. “What?!” I yelp. I peel my eyes open to see Charlie standing in the doorway.
“It’s 6:15,” he says. “You’ve officially missed breakfast.” I stare at him, shooting the best daggers I can at him until he chuckles again. “I’ve taken the liberty of picking out your outfit for the day. Put it on.”
I look at the foot of the bed and spot a pair of over-sized men’s jeans and a red flannel shirt. “I’m not wearing that,” I mutter with an upturned nose.
“Too bad. Put it on. Tomorrow, wake up on time. Then, you can pick out your own clothes.” He grips the doorknob. “Downstairs. Now.”
I push the blanket off and stare at him until he closes the door. The jeans are way too big and easily fall off my hips, but I find a belt in the closet that doesn’t make me completely gag. A quick scan of the clothes inside tells me the story of a young girl, most likely around my age. Probably boring, quiet. No real party clothes in sight at first glance. Lots of cardigans and long skirts that sit just below the kneecap.
I push farther back into the closet and smirk. Just like me, she keeps the good stuff in the back. I find a few shorter skirts, some tube tops, and some nice, fun blouses that look to be about my size. Excellent. I make a mental note to inspect them further before throwing on the disgusting flannel shirt Charlie picked out for me. It’s also far too large, but I tie it off in front to make it fit tighter around me.
I check out my reflection in the bathroom mirror and cringe at the sight. Dark make-up sits smeared around my eyes, stuck there after a day of not washing it off. I look older, but not in a good way. I lean forward and splash water on my face to wake me up and clear off the remaining old make-up and oil from my skin. My breath tastes sour, my head hurts, and there’s been a ringing in my ears for the last ten minutes that I can’t seem to shake away.
I brush my teeth and step back into the hallway.
“Pull your hair back,” Charlie says as I come down the stairs.
“You get to decide my hair styles, too?”
He holds up a rubber band and I take it from him. “No,” he says. “But it’s warm outside and I know you’re going to
He loves me.
He told me that he was the only person in the world that did.
I believe him more and more every day.
Each passing moment has me reaching for my phone, but of course, it’s been taken from me, along with what was left of my freedom. The instinct remains. I want to talk to him. I want to hear his voice, smell his skin. I want to get out of this hellhole and go back to the city to be with him where I belong.
I climb back into the bed and wrap the blanket around me to get warm. My skin quickly breaks out in a cold sweat and I find myself begging for another glass of cold water.
Chapter 2
I’m A Prisoner
“Rise and shine!”
I roll over to find Charlie standing over me, completely dressed and ready to start his day. “What?” I mutter.
“It’s 6 A.M., Claire,” he says. “Time to start your chores.”
I sit up. “What?” I repeat.
He chuckles. “Get dressed, wear something you can move around in. There’s some extra eggs and bacon downstairs. Get something to eat. Meet me at the barn by 6:30, not a minute after. Got me?”
The words blur together in my mind. I’m so tired, I can barely hear him. He walks out of the room, leaving me behind in my exhausted confusion. I sit up and look out the window. The morning sun sits barely above the horizon.
I fall back down onto my pillow and close my eyes.
“Claire!”
The force of his voice shoots me upright. “What?!” I yelp. I peel my eyes open to see Charlie standing in the doorway.
“It’s 6:15,” he says. “You’ve officially missed breakfast.” I stare at him, shooting the best daggers I can at him until he chuckles again. “I’ve taken the liberty of picking out your outfit for the day. Put it on.”
I look at the foot of the bed and spot a pair of over-sized men’s jeans and a red flannel shirt. “I’m not wearing that,” I mutter with an upturned nose.
“Too bad. Put it on. Tomorrow, wake up on time. Then, you can pick out your own clothes.” He grips the doorknob. “Downstairs. Now.”
I push the blanket off and stare at him until he closes the door. The jeans are way too big and easily fall off my hips, but I find a belt in the closet that doesn’t make me completely gag. A quick scan of the clothes inside tells me the story of a young girl, most likely around my age. Probably boring, quiet. No real party clothes in sight at first glance. Lots of cardigans and long skirts that sit just below the kneecap.
I push farther back into the closet and smirk. Just like me, she keeps the good stuff in the back. I find a few shorter skirts, some tube tops, and some nice, fun blouses that look to be about my size. Excellent. I make a mental note to inspect them further before throwing on the disgusting flannel shirt Charlie picked out for me. It’s also far too large, but I tie it off in front to make it fit tighter around me.
I check out my reflection in the bathroom mirror and cringe at the sight. Dark make-up sits smeared around my eyes, stuck there after a day of not washing it off. I look older, but not in a good way. I lean forward and splash water on my face to wake me up and clear off the remaining old make-up and oil from my skin. My breath tastes sour, my head hurts, and there’s been a ringing in my ears for the last ten minutes that I can’t seem to shake away.
I brush my teeth and step back into the hallway.
“Pull your hair back,” Charlie says as I come down the stairs.
“You get to decide my hair styles, too?”
He holds up a rubber band and I take it from him. “No,” he says. “But it’s warm outside and I know you’re going to
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