upstairs in my bedroom and, just for a moment, pretend my life is normal. However, before I can head to my room, I feel Tucker’s hand on my arm, halting me. I whip around to face him, bracing myself for what’s about to come.
“I saw the way you looked at her,” Tucker whispers in a harsh tone, his eyes narrowing accusingly as he scrutinizes my reaction to his words.
“How do I look at her?” I counter, attempting to keep my face and tone neutral while my thoughts race with uncertainty and fear.
“Like you’re thinking things you shouldn’t. You can’t have her.”
“Who’s thinking things they shouldn't?” The sharp voice of our father cuts across us, and my heart thumps unevenly in response.
“I’m not thinking about things I shouldn’t. I was remembering my lessons, using what you’re teaching me to imagine what it would be like to be in her place and taken by a man in that manner.”
The carefully worded lie wants to stick in my throat. The thought of being in Violante’s place, sexually or otherwise, makes me want to puke. I doubt I could ever want a man inside my body, no matter how many lessons I’m forced to watch and whether or not my father is the one to teach them. I’m not sure why he’s so insistent on being my teacher when he’s my own flesh and blood, but I suppose I should feel some sort of gratitude or relief that I’m being forced into the position of voyeur as opposed to active participant. His previous threat, though, suggests he’s not opposed to going to such lengths if pushed. I want to throw up.
My father looks pleased, if not entirely convinced by my lie, and I avoid my brother’s gaze, which I’m sure is twisted with disbelief and suspicion. I’ve never been able to get anything past him; he’s too perceptive. If I’m to succeed in freeing Violante and myself, then it’s clear he’s the one I’ll need to elude. It tears at the already frayed and ragged edges of my heart that we’ve grown so distant in such a short time. Trust between us has been non-existent ever since Father decided to fix his broken daughter’s perverse cravings and involve Tucker in my tutelage.
‘Filthy dyke’. Father’s cruel words rise to the surface of my mind again, and I have to maintain my composure while holding back my tears. I want to escape, and if I can figure a way out of this torment, I’m taking Violante with me.
“Wait here,” my father instructs and disappears into the living room.
He comes back moments later clutching a disc that he hands to me. I take it, frowning at the nondescript object. His lips purse, and he stares at me for a long moment, assessing me before he speaks again, smirking as he says, “Homework. I’m sure I won’t need to spell out to you what you need to do with that.”
I fight back the wince his expression and words threaten to set loose, and instead force my lips up into a smile that more closely resembles a grimace, I suspect.
“I’ll do it tonight.”
I won’t respond to the contents in the way he anticipates. I’d rather chop off my fingers than attempt to get myself off while watching, what is likely to be, a lewd and explicit physical display between a man and a woman. Regardless of how I feel, though, I will need to play whatever is on this disc because I’m sure either he or Tucker will be checking to make sure I do.
I head up the stairs with the DVD in hand, and the moment I’m out of view, I let my lips curl in distaste. I’ve given up trying to make my father understand that my preference for women isn’t a choice. I can’t be cured, no matter how intent he is on doing so. However, the harder he pushes, the more the doubts slip in, and my self-assurance is being shaken by the conviction of his belief that what I desire is fundamentally wrong.
Chapter Seven
Farren
As I stomp through my bedroom door, I feel the urge to slam it, but tampering the impulse down, I shut it quietly behind me. With the door closed, I stand against it, and with tired eyes, I take in the familiar room, seeing the same dull prison I’ve been waking up in for years. I don’t want to give my father any more ammunition than he already has, and if