Blood Bride

Chapter Five

Michael was worse than his son. Another reason I didn't want to be a part of this sadistic family.

"I didn't attack your son. He attacked me." My wavering voice broke the stiff silence we had settled in for a few minutes. Peter's fist rested on my shoulders, his fingers digging into them harshly while he stared at his father ahead. Michael stood in front of me, arms crossed over him chest as his eyes bore into my own. I looked away, afraid he would see my soul, like they say.

"My son only tried to take what was his." Michael Hallow stated softly, though the bitter edge to his words could be heard loud and clear.

"I'm not his!" fury enveloped me as my words exploded out of my mouth. I was scared but the anger inside me pushed it to the side as I glared at Peter's father.

Peter's fingers dug deeper into my shoulders, his nails breaking the skin. Michael turned from me, a hand pressed to his forehead as if talking to me was a great ordeal that gave him pain.

But before I could register what was happening Michael snapped back around, the back of his hand striking me so hard I fell from the chair, from Peter's harsh hold and onto the floor, hard.

"Father..." I barely registered Peter's wary voice as I trembled on the floor, my hand reaching up to feel the blood on my cheek. His ring must have scratched me deep.

"Peter, watch and learn. When your woman makes a mistake she must be taught a lesson. Its all fine when your tumbling around in the hay but the moment she speaks out of line she must be taught her place!"

"Yes father." Peter replied, his voice stronger now, more confident. He hung onto every word his father said, believed every letter as if it were the truth sent from God himself. Another commandment we did not hear until now.

"Pick her up and show her whose she is." Michael slapped Peter on the back once before leaving the room. Peter followed him, only to lock the door before turning back to me.

His eyes met mine.

I was still on the floor, one hand holding my body up slightly while the other caressed my bleeding cheek gently.

"You heard my father. You are mine so you do as I say or else!" Peter shouted, though he made no move towards me.

"I see who you really are now," I chocked from the floor; the shock of everything took my breath away from me, making it difficult to breathe. "I thought you were strong, scary and intimidating but a pathetic man nevertheless. But you are your father's son, an exact replica. You both are nothing but dirt under a beggars foot, less that the pests that infect our homes. You inflict fear on others for power which you use to rule our village with an iron fist. You use the power to take what you want and keep it"

Peter was silent, his face hard and void of emotion.

"You may hit me and beat me but you'll never break me because you are a pathetic excuse for a man. I'm surprised the last whore you slept with didn't slit her own throat out of humiliation for being with you. I know I would."

I didn't know where my confidence came from, perhaps my anger, or my fear, or even because I knew I would probably die if I was to live on with Peter, either by his own hands or his fathers. But whatever it was I didn't regret a single word I said. Not as I thought them milliseconds before I said them, not as I watched all the emotion from Peter's face drain into nothing, and not even as he stormed over to me and grabbed me by the hair, pulling me to my feet.

I cried out, Peter's satisfaction evident on his face, now filled with anger and cruelty. His hand tightened in my hair as his other snatched my chin into its grasp.