Madness Behind the Mask by Miranda Grant EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Miranda Grant
- Language: English
- Genre: Gothic Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
HER
30 April 1917
A belt cuts through the air, the sharp snap as it rises making me tense
instinctively. I know doing so will make it worse. I need to relax my
muscles. I need to –
A scream rips around my skull as harsh leather pelts across my back,
knocking out my air, making my left lung feel as if it’s collapsing beneath a
heavy weight. I slam my teeth shut as I collapse to my knees on the blueand-white tiles of the kitchen floor, biting through my tongue in an attempt
to stay quiet.
Don’t cry, Sau.
Don’t cry.
Men don’t cry.
Tears burn my eyes as the copper tang of blood fills my mouth. I might
not be a man, but I am a Shadow, and we are the leaders of this Family. It is
our shadow magic that makes us infamous, that makes others tremble in
their beds.
Don’t cry, Sau…
Don’t cry.
And yet, I hear my little brother crying beside me.
Sobbing.
Begging dad to stop as he raises the belt for him at the same time Uncle
David does for me.
I tense despite not wanting to, despite telling myself to relax. It’ll be so
much better if I just relax. Blood trickles down my mouth as I remove my
tongue from between my teeth.
My heart beats rapidly in anticipation of the next sting.
I want to get up and run away.
I want to turn and fight.
But the belt whips down on my naked back, landing on one of the bruises
it has already given me, and all I do is groan. A small whimper begs to
escape, but I swallow it down, refusing to cry, refusing to break.
The next slap cuts across my skin, opening me up to a flurry of pain that
stings in the humid air. The force of the next blow makes me fall forward,
and I throw my hands out to catch myself before my face hits the tiles.
My muscles scream in agony as soon as my palms make contact.
My
arms buckling beneath the pain, I hit my head hard, my lip busting, the hole
in my tongue clipping on my teeth, making my eyes water.
“Stop!” Luther screams as he curls up in a ball beside me. “Please, Dad!
Don’t!” He ends on a high-pitched wail as Father hits him again and again,
the crack resonating in my skull, making me flinch as if gunshots are going
off beside me.
I want to tell him not to cry as it only makes them hit us harder, but I
can’t open my mouth without screaming. I can’t tell him that soon we will
pass out from the pain and blood loss and that when we wake, the pain will
be gone, healed by Mama.
This has been my night for the last eleven months, and not once have I
cried. I cannot do so now.
All I can do is watch him with tears in my eyes, my jaw clenched tight in
pain, my hands fisted, my tongue bleeding through my lips as I lie sprawled
out on the kitchen floor.
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