This would always be a part of me.
And I hated Josiah even more for this.
A sob rose unexpectedly in my throat, and I pressed a hand over my mouth, but it escaped anyway.
Small.
Broken.
Pathetic.
Just how I felt right now.
Tears blurred my vision, not simply because of the pain, but because I’d be forced to carry the reminder of this place long after I escaped.
If I escaped.
I squeezed my eyes shut, suppressing the thought.
Not if.
When.
I would get out of here.
I was not going to die here. I refused to give Josiah that power over me.
I drew in several shaky breaths, getting my emotions under control. Once I did, I stepped into the bath, wincing from the welts on my ass. But I was desperate to feel some sense of normalcy. Even if that normalcy came in the form of a warm bath that made my backside ache.
I made sure to wash every inch of myself as carefully as possible, especially after Sarah’s warning that Josiah would use this upcoming dinner to find fault with everyone. I wasn’t willing to be the compliant, obedient sycophant he hoped me to be. But I’d play along.
For now.
After enough time had passed, I got out of the bath and toweled off, careful around my brand. Remembering Josiah’s instructions, I pulled my hair back into a low bun. Then I unfolded the white dress. It had a high neck and fell to just below my knees. I wondered if showing your knees would be considered a sin.
I had a feeling this guy made up sins to suit him.
I gingerly stepped into the dress and pulled it up my arms. The instant the material rubbed against my burn, I nearly bent over from the pain. It was so much worse than I’d expected. I’d gotten used to the ache, but I’d spent most of the day with the front of my nightgown open so nothing would rub against it.
I wasn’t sure how I’d get through dinner without wanting to sob.
But I would. I had to.
Victor prepared me for this, too. I’d spent ten years pretending everything was fine. Pretending my dress didn’t hide welts and scars and burns.
What was one more night of pretending?
God, I prayed it would only be one more night.
A knock sounded on the door, pulling me out of my thoughts. Before I could answer, it opened, and a figure appeared.
But it wasn’t Josiah.
Instead, a young woman stepped inside. She couldn’t have been more than twenty.
Her blonde hair was arranged in a bun like mine, and the same white dress covered her body.
She smiled the moment she saw me, and something about it immediately made the hairs on my arms stand on end.