Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
After my outburst, I wanted the floor to open up and completely swallow me whole. I never allowed myself to blurt out how I was feeling. Did I feel better? No. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to kill me right now.
“I wanted to show you something,” he said.
He didn’t look unhappy, but he didn’t look sad either. In fact, I couldn’t quite read his face, and I felt like bursting into tears. This was a nightmare.
“What?” I asked.
“I said I wanted to show you something.”
Was this where he was going to kill me? After what I had just done, I deserved it.
“Okay,” I said.
With each step we passed, I got used to the fact I was going to die. Victor was going to finally kill me, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with The Butcher living in his home. She told me he hated her guts.
It would seem Victor hated everyone. Apart from Umberto and Rafael. I had also seen him laughing and smiling with a couple of the guards, so he clearly didn’t hate everyone. This did not make me feel better as we stepped out into the garden.
My outburst was going to get me killed. This is why I bottled everything up, and then just made quilts and clothes, and whatever else I could get my hands on.
This was terrifying.
I was shaking and felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to cry.
This is how my life ended. At twenty-five, having terrible sex, and only once, without having a large family. Without knowing any kind of love. No one loved me. I was never good enough for anyone. What could I do to stop this from happening?
I followed him to his garden shed, which could have been code for ... torture chamber? I don’t know. I’d been to his shed a couple of times, but never inside. I was not allowed inside. This was his domain and right now, I didn’t want to know what was in there or why.
He was going to kill me.
There was no chance of me finding someone to love, or who would love me. I’d never have my large family, and I always wanted one. I knew it was corny, but I wanted a family, where members didn’t really want to leave. Sure, they left, had families of their own, but always came back, like daily. I didn’t want to have a family and then watch everyone disappear.
Stepping into the shed, I expected to see dead bodies hanging from the roof, or blood soaking the walls. Instead, it was an actual garden shed, or a crafting shed. I looked around, but that still didn’t help my fear.
“I made this for you,” Victor said.
Spinning around, I quickly looked toward him, and in front of him stood a beautiful cabinet. The wood had been varnished, and it looked so shiny and smooth.
He stood at the cabinet and opened up several of the drawers. “I saw you needed something for your makeup. This will help.”
My makeup was overflowing my vanity, and it didn’t look neat at all. Even The Butcher had been shocked by the state of my makeup collection. I loved everything neat and tidy and clean.
This gift was beautiful. He’d taken time to do this, to ... carve, to craft, to create. I knew it would look stunning in my new closet, and my makeup would look amazing, all spread out, and I would be able to clean it.
But, in that moment, I saw him throw the torn-up quilt. He had thrown my gift into my face. Technically, I could grab a hammer, break this into a thousand splinters, and toss the pieces in his face, but I couldn’t do that.
“No, thank you,” I said instead.
“What?” Victor asked.
I turned on my heel and made my way toward the shed door. “I don’t need any of your gifts. I just want you to stop yelling when you see me in a room. I get it, you hate me and don’t want to be married to me. When you can, find a way to divorce me.” And with that, I left the room and made my way back to the main house.
His gift had been beautiful, and I would have loved to accept it. But I couldn’t. He and I didn’t have that kind of relationship, and we were not going to start now.
Chapter Seven
Victor
The knife whizzed right past my head and imbedded into the wooden pole of my shed. I grabbed the knife and turned to find The Butcher in my shed, arms folded. “The door was locked.”
“Please, I could have kicked your door down.”
“You could have missed,” I said, tossing the knife back in her direction, and not surprised as she caught the damn thing.
She tutted. “I didn’t miss. I hit exactly what I was aiming for.”