𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 ✔

Chapter Three

It felt like it had been only a few days, but in the blink of eye an entire month had gone since that awful night.

It took almost two weeks for the bruises on my wrists and shoulder to disappear, and half that for the pain to fade. And yet, despite the absence of the blue and purple hues on my skin, the damage that had been dealt was permanent. I constantly replayed the events in my head every day without fail, trying my best to make sense of what had happened and what he had meant.

"Is there a reason you have not gone to see Bash in a while?" Papa looked as if he did not know whether to be concerned or just curious.

"He has been very busy with work, remember? I have already told you this, Papa." I unconsciously rubbed my wrists at the thought of him.

"Ah, I suppose you are right." He continued eating breakfast.

I did my best to avoid talking about Bash with Papa, and always tried to change the topic of conversation if he was brought up. However, inadvertently, that only ended up killing any conversation there was to be had at all.

The awkwardness left in the wake of that night's events permeated my everyday life, as if I was being punished when I had done nothing wrong. Though, I was sure Bash had not suffered an ounce.

What bothered me the most about that night wasn't how he had spoken to me, but the feeling of helplessness as I struggled against him in vain. The knowing that if it had happened again, I could do nothing, that I would have had to endure whatever he had decided to do to me without the ability to stop him.

That the next time he would not stop at stealing just a kiss.

The remaining six days until my birthday quickly slipped away while I was too distracted to notice.

Eighteen, I had finally turned eighteen. Even though the offerings had only started roughly four years ago, I had been lucky for the most part. The minimum requested age changed at the beginning of every new year, but I was always one year behind, until the beginning of the current year when it stayed at eighteen. The haunting news had nearly killed several mothers on the spot, and a handful of the newly eligible girls fainted. Though, it only fanned the fears of many and solidified the notion that none of the girls in town were ever really safe from sacrifice.

So far, the town had lost fifteen girls to the offering, the majority being of the poor and lower middle classes, not including several who were lost to suicide.

And just like the other families, Papa too held these same fears.

The stress of him not being able to find me a husband before the next offering was what caused Papa to be unbearably anxious and demanding at almost all times. He only meant well, but it could be overwhelming, and it did not help me with my own problems and only fed into my own stress. In truth, I started to feel quite isolated.

Papa was not happy, nor did he try to hide it either. It was as if he was so wrapped up in his own anguish that he forgot I was the one who would be offered to the beast on a silver platter, that I was suffering too.

I never disliked my birthday, even after being told it would mark me for the beast, but this one had felt more like a funeral than a celebration of life, leaving nothing to really enjoy.

Though, in the past there were moments I had wondered if I had actually been living or if I had simply been just existing and the majority of the time it had felt like the latter.

Papa had waited until we finished dinner to surprise me with a gift, something I had not anticipated. It was a small wooden box that he had hand carved from what smelled like Elm. I had never seen him whittle before, nor knew how he had accomplished such a thing in secret, but it was beyond beautiful.