Chained Wife✔️

Chapter 8

As soon as they leave the kitchen, I start to feel conflicted. I have a lot of questions I want to ask Rebecca, but I don't want to make her angry because then she might tell Cain, and then I'll be in trouble. I really want to ask her some questions. Because I do not know which side she is on, I will need to use extreme caution.

After getting up from my place at the table, the first thing I do is start collecting the dishes. Rebecca gets to her feet, gathering the dishes that belong to her and Cain, and then follows me to the sink.

As I reach for the soap and the dishcloth to begin washing the dishes, I find myself thinking about what questions I could ask that wouldn't be misunderstood or interpreted in the wrong way.

I don't know if she is fully with this family or not. Maybe we could come up with a plan that will help us both escape, but first, I have to see if I will be able to trust her.

"So, Rebecca, that's your name, right? I'm sorry, but I have a terrible memory for people's names; I'll try to become better soon, I swear." I feign, a tiny giggle.

I'm actually not bad at remembering people's names at all, I just needed something to break the ice between us. If I had jumped and started to flood her with questions, she most likely would have gotten upset with me.

After taking a moment to slowly look up at me, she then immediately turns her head towards the entrance as if to check that we are the only ones in the room before she continues.

That's a good sign. She does not want anyone to overhear our conversation.

"Yes, it's Rebecca," she murmurs so quietly that I can hardly make out what she's saying.

After giving her a knowing nod, I poured a small amount of soap into the bowls of grits that Rebecca and I had eaten out of and began scrubbing the already dry grits from the edges of the bowls. Because I do not want anyone to be upset with me for the filthy dishes, I scrub the dishes until my fingers hurt, and I do this repeatedly.

I can't stand eating grits for breakfast for this very reason, it's always a bitch to clean afterwards.

I can't help but wonder whether or not they have a stinking dishwasher, probably not. I'm not going to even bother to ask that question, this family seems old fashion to say the least. They would want the women to do all the house work by hand.

"How long have you been married to Cain?" I whisper to her as I hand her the now, cleaned bowls to dry.

"1 year," she mutters, this time a little louder than the last time, but doesn't offer anything else.

"How old are you now ?" I asked gently, trying not to make it sound like I'm pumping her for information even though I am. Everything I can learn will help me be free one day.

"18" she says softly, drying the bowls for a longer time than I would be.

"They are dry." I tell her.

"Need to make sure. I got a lesson for leaving a cup wet." She said and gently set the bowl down on the counter.

"18? That means you were just 17 years old when you started living with Cain, right?"I say it out loud before casting a quick glance toward the entrance, hoping against hope that none of those messed up in the head people heard me.

She was kidnapped as a minor, which breaks my heart for her, and she has been here for a year. No wonder she is acting this way.

"Have you ever tried to leave? See your family?" I asked, making my question sound like I'm asking about her going on vacation instead of running away from this hell.

"Yes, I have tried. Cain caught me. I was brought to the basement and left down there for days." She said, her voice breaking, causing me to look up at her, and I see her tears flowing down her cheeks.

Fuck. This poor girl. I could not imagine being here for a year, I hope I'm not.

"Does the family ever get visitors here?" I asked, wondering if maybe I could wait for someone to come visit and then scream my head off.

"Only family like this one." She whispered, walking towards the table and cleaning the top. I watch as food starts to fall onto the floor.

Like this one? What does she mean?

"What do you mean?" I asked again, walking towards the table and helping her clean it, making sure that no food was left behind on it.

"Families that have the same traditions, like this one." She murmurs before dropping to her knees, suddenly.

At first, I thought she fell, but she is on her knees, picking up all the crumbs that have fallen onto the floor with her hands.

"What traditions?" I asked, in a rush.

What is she talking about?

I wait a few seconds for her to answer, but she doesn't, and I can't help but ask her again.

"What do you mean, Rebecca?" I asked harshly this time, wanting to force her to answer me.

"We must obey our husbands. They are the bosses here and what they say we should do. They only want the best for us as their wives and do the things they must to assure out safety -"

"Safety?" I asked, confused about what exactly they were keeping us safe from.

"Cain said the outsiders don't understand their traditions. They allow the women to boss their husband's around."

"That's normal though" I say more to myself than to her because I'm sure she is aware of that.

"It's not. Men are bigger and stronger and can protect their families. Women should focus on the house and raise our sons."

"You mean son's and / or daughters," I gently corrected her, while trying to understand what all she was telling me because these traditions this family has sound insane.

"No only sons allowed," she murmurs.

Only sons allowed?

Women can't exactly pick which gender our babies will be.

Boy or girl, it's left us to fate.

"What do you mean only son?"

"Daughters are weak," Rebecca explained like it was a completely normal conversation.

"What do you mean, Rebecca? How are they weak?"

"Daughters can't help on the farm. They are just another mouth to feed and takes away from the rest of the family," she sighed, and I could tell she was getting tired of my questions.

"What happens if the women have Daughters?" I asked, curious and a little bit still confused.

I waited a few seconds for her to answer, and when she didn't, I quickly asked again. "What happens if the women have Daughters Rebecca?"

She didn't answer me, she kept on cleaning dishes.

She is no longer answering my questions.