Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Light shone from a window. Keeping her head low, she peered inside. The woman and boy sat at a dining room table, a book open in front of the boy.
Please, God, let Niels be here.
She straightened to move on to the next window when a big hand clamped over her mouth.
Chapter 8
The hand covered Sky’s nose and mouth, cutting off her airflow. A muffled cry escaped her lips. She fought for life and death, but a strong arm circled her waist and trapped her arms at her sides. As she was lifted off her feet, she kicked at air. Her attacker flung her body around, knocking her into the wall. Dizziness overwhelmed her as her head hit the bricks. Before she could find her bearings, he trapped her body with his, holding her in place with one arm while he stifled her scream with his hand over her mouth.
Her gaze lifted from the familiar coat to Doumar’s cold, blue eyes. His face was contorted with fury and hatred.
“Shh, baby,” he said with a wicked smile. “Not a word.”
He released her mouth and dragged her by her arm to a shed at the back where he flung her inside. She stumbled two steps on the mud floor before she regained her balance. A spade and rake rattled against the wall as she backed into them. By that time, he’d shut the door and flicked on a torch lamp. For a moment, they only regarded each other from opposite ends of the small space. Sky’s chest heaved. Her nostrils filled with the pungent smell of decomposing leaves. Between them lay the distorted shadow bars of garden implements and nine years of lies and deceit.
Doumar’s fingers flexed and clenched as he advanced on her. “What are you doing, following me around?”
There was no acceptable answer. She could only stare at him.
He stopped in front of her and cracked his neck. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out you were having me followed?”
Fear snaked up her spine, making her break out in a sweat. “How…?”
“I knew all along. Frans works for me, you see.”
Her lips parted in shock. She shook her head in hopeless denial. It couldn’t be. Not Frans.
“Thanks for the extra money,” he continued. “You surprised me with how much you can make after-hours.”
“Dou, I—”
He held up a finger. “Don’t speak. Don’t say a fucking word, or I’ll break your useless, unthankful neck. All you need to do is listen. Do I have your attention?”
She nodded, her body shaking uncontrollably. This had to be the end. All was lost. She wouldn’t save Niels, and she’d die before he was old enough to hear the truth.
“Kneel,” he hissed, taking the garden shears off a hook on the wall.
She dropped her bag and fell to her knees, looking up at him through her tears. “Doumar, please.”
“I said don’t talk. Won’t do you any good. It’s too late for begging.”
As he positioned the blades over her collar, pressing on her breastbone, she pinched her eyes shut. The fabric made a ripping noise as he started to cut. He went all the way to the hem of the dress, and then snipped through the elastic of her bra and panties. Next, he ripped the ruined material from her body until she wore nothing but her boots. Catching the long strands of her hair in one hand, he pulled up until her scalp stung. The shears snipped as he attacked her hair, cutting off pieces close to her scalp. The metal was cold where it raked over her skin. Warm tears dribbled over her cheeks as the uneven strands fell around her on the ground. He jerked her head left and right, up and down, and didn’t stop until there was nothing left to grip. For all her resolve not to give him her tears, she couldn’t stop them from flowing. She hated herself for that weakness as much as she hated him.
He pointed at his feet. “Kiss my boots.”
When she only stared at him with unspoken defiance, a cruel smile transformed his face. “I won’t cut off your fingers, but Niels can do with only nine, or maybe eight. He’ll be disappointed if he can’t learn to play the piano. Did you know that’s his dream?”
Not having a choice, she groveled in the soil at his feet, kissing first the one, then the other boot.
“They’re dirty from running after you in the mud,” he said when she straightened. “Lick them clean.”
She swallowed her humiliation as she’d done so many times before, dragging her tongue over the dirt that covered his shoes. He made her do it again and again, until there was not a trace of mud left, and then he instructed her to remove her boots.
“Stay on your knees, slut.” He took the boots and dumped them in a trashcan. “Now you can crawl out of here on your hands and knees like the dog you are. I’ll be watching you. If I see you get to your feet, you can kiss Niels’s fingers and piano lessons goodbye.” He snapped the blades of the shears together. “Go.”