Page 11 of I Dare You
My aunt and uncle aren’t well off, but that means nothing to me.I was grateful they took me in after my parents died in a car accident.I had only seen my aunt and uncle a handful of times, so I know that my living here is something they’re doing to honor my dad, who was my uncle’s brother.
They don’t want me here.
So I try my best to stay out of trouble and out of their way.
Tonight, however, I’ve done the complete opposite.
I open my bedroom door and quickly change into leggings and a long-sleeved top.My single bed is made with precision.Nothing is out of place, and one wouldn’t be blamed if someone thought this was merely a spare room.
There are no personal trinkets.
No posters on the walls.
Nothing in here reveals who I am.Or what I like.
The minimal clothes I have are put away in the drawers and the small closet.
I put on the small silver crucifix necklace and fix my hair in the mirror.My fear is reflected all over my pale face.
I close the door behind me, my bare feet making little noise as I walk down the long, dark hallway toward my uncle’s study.
One of the window shutters bangs so loudly against the wooden panes, I jump in fright.It’s just my nerves because I know what faces me.
I gently knock on my uncle’s door.
“Come in,” he says a moment later.
I wet my lips nervously as I open the door and see my uncle sitting behind his desk.The light from his computer screen bounces off his large silver-framed glasses, almost giving him a chilling glow.
I close the door behind me and wait in front of his desk with my head bowed and my arms behind me.I know better than to utter a word.
“What time is curfew?”Uncle Leon asks.
“Five o’clock,” I reply softly.
“And what time is it now?”
“After seven o’clock.”
Silence.
This torture is worse than the punishment.I know what looms.It’s the buildup he enjoys more than the actual abuse.
I keep my eyes downcast and my chin lowered.
The wheels on his chair roll back as he comes to a stand.The floorboards creak beneath his feet as he walks forward.
“You enjoy worrying your aunt then?”
“No,” I whisper.
“I can’t hear you.”
“No,” I repeat louder.
“Have we protected you, fed you, schooled you, and kept a roof over your head?”
“Yes.”
