Chapter 3 – Bruises That Don’t Fade

I didn’t move for a long time.

The sting of my mother’s slap still burned on my cheek, but the real pain ran deeper.

I bent down to pick up the groceries, my hands trembling as I stuffed the fallen items back into the bags. The sound of Liam’s laughter still echoed in my ears. I could feel his eyes on me, waiting, watching, enjoying the moment.

I kept my head down.

I couldn’t let him see my face.

Couldn’t let him see the tears threatening to fall.

By the time I finished putting everything away, my mother had disappeared upstairs, leaving me alone in the kitchen. The silence felt heavy, suffocating.

I took a deep breath and turned toward the hallway, my only goal being to get to my room, to lock the door, to be alone. But as I stepped forward—

A hand grabbed my wrist.

I gasped, my body stiffening.

Liam.

I didn’t have to turn around to know it was him.

"That was fun to watch," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.

I swallowed hard. "Let go."

He didn’t.

Instead, his grip tightened, just enough to make my skin sting.

"You should say ‘thank you,’ you know," he continued, his voice low, almost amused. "I could’ve told her we stopped for coffee. Made her even angrier."

My heart pounded.

I jerked my arm back, but his grip held firm. "What do you want?"

Liam sighed dramatically. "You make it sound like I always want something."

I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. His eyes gleamed with something dark, something unreadable.

"You do," I said quietly.

He chuckled, finally releasing me.

"You’re not wrong."

I stumbled back, rubbing my wrist where his fingers had dug into my skin.

Liam tilted his head, watching me closely. "You should put something on your face," he said casually. "It’s already turning red."

I clenched my jaw. "Mind your own business."

His smirk deepened.

"That’s the thing," he murmured. "You are my business."

I turned and walked away before he could say anything else, my hands curled into fists at my sides.

I hated him.

I hated this house.

I hated everything.

Back in my room, I locked the door and collapsed onto my bed.

I finally let the tears fall.

I pressed my face into my pillow, muffling my sobs as my body shook. I hated crying. Hated feeling weak. But I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

After a while, I forced myself to sit up and walked to my mirror.

A red mark was already forming across my cheek, a perfect outline of my mother’s hand. I traced it lightly with my fingers, wincing at the tenderness.

This wasn’t the first time.

And it wouldn’t be the last.

I turned away, not wanting to see myself anymore.

Instead, I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and checked the time.

5:17 PM.

Hours left until bedtime. Hours left of pretending.

I exhaled shakily, shoving my phone back down. I needed to do something—anything—to get my mind off of this.

I glanced at my bookshelf, filled with old novels I’d read a hundred times. Books were my escape. My only escape.

I grabbed one at random and curled up on my bed, flipping through the pages, trying to lose myself in another world.

Trying to forget.

A knock at my door made me jump.

I quickly wiped my face, trying to hide any evidence of tears.

"Yeah?" I called out, forcing my voice to sound normal.

"Come downstairs."

My father’s voice.

Cold. Unbothered.

I hesitated. "Why?"

"Just come."

I swallowed hard.

It was never good when he asked for me.

When I stepped into the living room, my parents were seated on the couch, and Liam stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach.

"What’s going on?" I asked.

My mother gave me a tight smile. "We’ve made a decision."

I frowned. "About what?"

My father finally looked up. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was firm. "You’re going to start working."

My breath caught. "What?"

"You’re old enough," my mother added. "It’s time you contribute to this family."

"But I—"

"No arguing," she snapped.

I swallowed my words, my heart hammering.

A job? I had never been allowed to go anywhere alone before. They always kept me under strict control, barely letting me leave the house unless it was with Liam.

Something about this didn’t feel right.

"Where?" I asked carefully.

My father exhaled, as if annoyed that I had even asked. "Liam got you something at his workplace. You start Monday."

I turned to Liam, my stomach twisting.

His smirk was back.

"Surprise," he said.

I felt sick.

Of course, it wasn’t just any job. It was a job where he would be there. Where he could watch me.

Control me.

I clenched my fists. "I don’t want to work with him."

My father’s gaze hardened. "You don’t have a choice."

My mother nodded in agreement. "You should be grateful Liam was kind enough to help you."