Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Joseph is no prophet. He is the devil himself, if you ask me. Not to mention, Winter and I are pretty sure he killed his first wife. She just disappeared one day. No one talked about it. We all knew better than to ask. Joseph can do no wrong in the eyes of most people here.
I wasn't surprised when he asked Winter to marry him. Well, ask is putting it nicely. It wasn't really a question. It was more a formality to Father. No one says no to the “prophet.” I honestly think most of the men here would give Joseph their own wives if it was something he wanted. All of it done in the name of God. He’s a coward who uses religion to have power.
I think my sister is the prettiest girl on the compound. That can be a curse around here. Because of my leg, I have yet to be asked for my hand in marriage. How could I both hate and love my limp? But that is my reality.
“The wedding will go on as planned,” my mother adds. She was all too happy to hand her daughter over to the disgusting man.
I want to ask a million questions, but I know better. Not only would I face punishment, but I wouldn't receive the answers either. I have to bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t. I can ramble when I’m nervous or excited. I seem to have two modes. I’m either as quiet as a church mouse or I can’t shut up. There is no in-between.
My mother stands in the doorway, glaring at me. I’m sure she’s mad about my father being in a terrible mood. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s been taking it out on her, the one person who would do anything for him. Even sell out her own kids to make him happy.
“Don’t get any ideas,” my father says when he hammers the last nail into place. “Understand?” He uses the hammer to point at me.
“Yes, sir,” I answer. He gives me a curt nod before turning to go but stops in the doorway. “Don’t forget to say your prayers.” With that, he closes the door. I hear the lock click into place.
I fall back onto my bed, huffing out a breath. The simple action makes my lip sting. I hate them so much. I’m trapped, and if what my father said is true, soon Winter will be too. I should have told her to just leave me behind, to not worry about getting help. At least one of us could have been free.
Warm tears slip down my cheeks. I don’t bother wiping them away. I roll over and pull a pillow into my arm. I bury my face in it. I must doze off at some point. When I wake, I can see that it’s daylight out. The snow is still coming down. I listen but don’t hear anything. If they really found Winter, wouldn’t they bring her back here?
Crap, I’m honestly not sure what they would do. I pull myself from my bed, going over to the window. My leg aches with every step. It’s always the worst when I first wake up. The cold doesn’t help it either.
You can’t see much with the snow still falling so heavily, but I do notice there are some people out and about in the far distance. Our house sits a touch higher than some of the other buildings and homes on the compound.
I jump back from the window when I hear a yelp that is quickly cut off. I stand there waiting to hear more, but there is absolutely no other sound. If my father was going at it with my mother, there would be yelling and more, but it’s utterly quiet.
When I check the door handle, it’s still locked from the day before. I debate whether I should unlock it. My sister taught me how, but then I would get busted for knowing how to pick the lock.
My eyes catch a shadow in front of my door. I quickly step back, forgetting that my leg is still stiff. I nearly lose my balance, but I manage to steady myself by gripping the dresser, just in time to hear the lock click before the door opens.
I see the last thing I’d ever thought I would see again. I recognize the man from the town I visited with my father months ago. It’s so shocking to see him here that it takes me a moment to catch up with everything else. Such as the gun in his hand. My mother is standing next to him with fear written all over her face.
“Get warm clothes on,” he says when he finally speaks. “In.” The man, brandishing his gun, motions for my mother to enter the room. She quickly does as he orders. He steps in behind her, closing the door. “Libby, get dressed and put shoes on.” How the heck does he know my name? Maybe I’m still sleeping and this is all a dream. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dreamt of the handsome stranger. “We have to get moving.” His deep voice sends a shiver through my body, letting me know I’m definitely not asleep.