A Pawn, A Son, A Forced Marriage

Hudso

de, but a faint, rumbling sound stopped him. Ilene. H

a finger at me. "Make her something to

a knife. The rhythmic thud of the blade against the wood was loud, each chop a release of my simmering rage. I could stil

flowing trash bin beside it. A dark idea sparked in my mind. My teeth clenched. Without a second thought, I reached into th

but not the effect. I cooked it thoroughly, watching as the rancid odor cooked away, replaced by the spicy

small, almost imperceptible smile. He would pay for that tomorrow. A pang of something, fleeting and unwelcome, hit me when I looked at Ilene's plate. Sh

from the shack, her face pale, but her eyes sharp. Sh

t him go, do you?" she accus

ess. "It's him who doesn't want to le

I was pregnant, your hands trembled. I saw it." She paused,

ied to deny. I couldn't hear anything else. The world went silent, consumed by the echoing shame of her accusation. Was it tru

and his face turning away. The dream was a constant reminder, a hau

inding mine, then Ilene's retreating back. He sa

her the life jacket?" The question, dormant for so long, finally broke free. I needed to know. Even if it was just to fi

n obscuring it behind a veil of smoke. He took a drag, then exha

ripped from my throa

tared out at the dark ocean, h

red, the pain in my ch

me, his eyes devoid of any emotion. "Come bac

e of the night. Always there. What a joke. I had been so stupid, so

I pressed the glowing tip against the base of his neck, right above the collar of h

sharp, choked

human being, Connor Foster," I spat, the w