Page 84 of The Chosen
“What is it?” I asked, my voice shaking.
He squeezed his eyes shut before slowly lifting his head. “That’s my sister. That’s Chandler.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ariana
The man — Father — released his harsh grip on my face and paced the length of the room in front of me, his footfalls causing my anxiety to spike with every step.
I shifted on my knees, the hardwood floor uncomfortable, especially for such a long period of time.
“Stop moving. The Lord requires obedience.”
“I’m sorry, Father,” I squeaked out, doing my best to remain completely still.
“Better.”
It was silent as he continued pacing. I had a feeling he was simply doing it to test me. To see if I’d move. God, I wanted to. With every second that passed, my knees screamed for relief.
“Repeat after me, my child,” he said finally, the heat of his stare scalding my skin. “Father, I confess the wickedness inside me.”
I opened my mouth, but my voice was caught in my throat. This didn’t sound like any prayer I’d ever heard. But I played along. I had no choice if I wanted to survive.
“Father, I confess the wickedness inside me,” I said softly, my voice barely louder than a whisper.
He gripped my hair and yanked my head back yet again. “I don’t believe you. This only works if you believe what you’re saying. Or are you not genuinely interested in repenting? Do you want God to punish you for your transgressions instead?”
“No.”
“No, what? Do you not want to repent?”
“I do!” I cried out. “I want to repent!”
“Then prove it.” He forcefully released me, causing me to lose my balance again. I extended my hands in front of me to break my fall, then quickly righted myself to kneel again. “Father, I confess the wickedness inside me,” I rushed out, my voice filling the room.
He didn’t immediately say anything, but I felt him approach from behind and push my hair over my shoulder. My pulse kicked up when the heat of his breath scalded the back of my neck. In the exact place where Blake hid the tracker. Was it still there? I hadn’t checked when I first woke up. Now I wished I had.
“Say, my flesh is weak and invites corruption.” He ran a finger along my shoulder blades before moving toward my collarbone.
“My flesh is weak and invites corruption,” I repeated.
“Yes, it is,” he replied, his voice growing husky.
I squeezed my eyes shut as he dipped his hand into my nightgown, his fingers inching toward my breast.
I held back a sob when he reached my nipple and pinched so hard I nearly fell over yet again.
“And because of that weakness?” he panted as he twisted my nipple, pain ricocheting through me. But I swallowed down my scream. I refused to give him the satisfaction.
“I…” I trailed off, unsure what he wanted.
“Say it!” he roared, twisting my nipple even harder.
This time I couldn’t hold it back. I’d survived years of Victor’s cruel and sadistic treatment. But after Henry, after experiencing his loving touch and affectionate words, I’d grown complacent.
“I don’t know what you want me to say!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the room.
He released my nipple, and I exhaled a sigh of relief. But any relief was short-lived. With a firm grip, he yanked me to my feet by my hair, using it like a leash to pull me toward the bed.
