Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 18478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
“Not bad,” he says. “But not great.”
“Not great?” I don’t get him. How great can he want a towel to be washed and dried?
Tossing it aside with no care whatsoever, he snaps his fingers at me like a dog and motions for me to follow. “Come.”
“But your laundry—”
“Later. I have something else for you.”
He doesn’t wait. He walks out of the room, expecting me to obey. And what else can I really do? If I don’t, I’ll end up in the closet again, chained to that machine…
But would that really be that bad?
“Shush!” I hiss under my breath, scolding myself for having such wicked thoughts.
He leads me into the lavish living room that looks like something out of an old British mansion. The furniture probably cost more than Momma’s old house.
“Here,” he says simply, pointing to an elegant chess set sitting on an ornate coffee table.
“You…want me to clean them?” I ask.
“Dust them. Carefully. And once you’re finished, arrange them perfectly. I want equal distance between each piece. Understand?”
Is he kidding? That sounds impossible. But what am I supposed to do? Argue with my enormous, six-foot-plus step-brother who has a contract to run my life?
“I’ll do my best.”
“No,” he snaps. “You’ll do as I say. You know what happens if you fail, Joan.”
Before I can speak, he exits the room.
I realize I’m trembling. Not because I’m afraid of being punished but because I’m afraid of disappointing him.
I start right away, dusting each piece with my cloth and placing it back where it was. I don’t have a clue how to play chess, so that’s the only way I can do it without messing up the board.
Amon wants equal distance between the pieces, so I search the room for a ruler, only to come up empty.
“Fudge,” I say, still feeling slightly guilty for uttering something close to a swear.
Then a brilliant idea hits me. My cloth! It may not have numbers on it, but it’s patterned with blue and green squares.
Laying it beside the board, I’m able to use it like a grid to situate the pieces so they’re almost perfectly spaced.
Almost…
This has to be good enough. Amon must know what he asked is basically impossible without tools.
I’m on my last piece—I think it’s a castle—when Amon comes back into the room. My heart is ready to pound out of my chest as he approaches the board.
“I did my best,” I start to explain. “But without a ruler—”
He silences me by simply holding up his hand. I close my mouth and step aside, letting him pass.
His familiar scent enters my nostrils. My eyes close automatically as a hurricane of emotions threaten to overwhelm me.
I want to stand still—appear obedient—but as my head starts swimming, I have to step back, or I might just faint.
I’m actually shaking as I watch as he leans over the board, circling it, inspecting it like a government official. His body language reveals nothing.
I want to scream at him.
What are you thinking!?
But all I can do is stand there and wait, trying not to break a nail as I fidget my fingers against each other nervously.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Amon stands and turns to me. His eyes pull at me like gravity, threatening to devour me if I make one wrong move.
“Good,” he says simply. I can’t believe it.
“So…it’s okay?”
“No.” He shakes his head, causing my heart to skip a beat. “It’s good. Good job, Joan.”
I did it. I did what I was told, and I succeeded. Relief flows through me, but as I look back at him, I realize something terrifying.
The praise in his eyes is addicting. I want more. So much more.
But I can’t. That’s wrong. Amon is my step-brother, and I’m supposed to be pious…pure…
His cell rings, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. He checks it, then looks at me. “You can go, Joan. For now.”
Thank God.
I rush from the room like a rat with its tail on fire, up the stairs to my room, and slam it behind me. Panting like a maniac, I collapse onto the bed and try to calm myself down.
But Amon’s words ring in my ears like church bells.
“Good job, Joan.”
Even replaying them now causes the same feeling of pride and joy to fill me. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but it’s dangerous.
I read Scripture for the next three hours. I don’t even leave to go to the bathroom. My goal is to stay away from Amon—from temptation.
But as the hours pass, my resolve starts slipping. It’s like an invisible force, pulling at me from down the hall.
Chewing my bottom lip, I try to fight it. I bury my head in the Bible, but eventually, my will gives way, and I’m on my feet.
I step slowly out into the hall, listening for sounds of my step-brother.