Held by Kimberly A. Bettes Read Free Book Online

father was a criminal and always on the run. Milk?”
    “Yes. Did your parents fight a lot?”
    He was quiet for a moment as he poured us each a glass of milk. I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but as he handed me a glass and returned to his seat, he said, “My father seemed to think of my mother as a punching bag. He beat her more days than not, and never for a good reason. It was always something like her spaghetti was too dry or her hair was out of place.”
    “Why didn’t she leave him?”
    “A mother of six? Not likely to happen. She had no way to support so many children, so it was easier for her to endure my father’s beatings than try to make it alone in the world with such heavy baggage.”
    He took a couple of bit es without saying another word.
    “Did he ever beat you?”
    “Yes, many times. He beat each of us. Except the girls. Their punishments were far worse than a beating.”
    I knew what that meant so I left it alone.
    “Were you a good student?”
    “Yes, as good as one can be with a home life such as mine. I studied hard and made good grades. I had no friends. I was never one place long enough to make any.”
    “Did you go to college?”
    “No. I was too busy working to support my family. I had barely enough money for us all to eat, much less waste on college.”
    “You seem pretty educated, though. I mean, you talk better than most people.”
    He nodded. “Yes, I suppose I do. That’s years of hard work and practice. I learned a long time ago that if you want people to take you seriously, you can’t walk around looking, acting, and talking like you have no proper upbringing. I may have been raised in a poor, abusive household, but I certainly don’t want people to look at me and see it.”
    I opened my mouth to ask him something else, but a scream stopped the words from forming.
    Looking at Ron, I couldn’t tell if he’d heard it or not. Surely he had. There was no way he couldn’t have. It was loud. It wasn’t until he shook his head slowly while staring at his plate that I realized he had.
    “Is that the woman in the basement?”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    “Why’s she screaming?”
    “Because she hasn’t learned her lesson yet,” he said with a hint of anger. “I’ve told her many times that I can’t have her screaming like that. If the neighbors were to hear her, I could get in a lot of trouble. Yet she insists on screaming. I suppose I shall have to punish her again.”
    Afraid to know but more afraid not to, I asked, “By punish her, what do you mean?”
    He looked up at me and chewed slowly. “Are you sure you want to know? It isn’t pleasant. I wouldn’t think someone as beautiful and innocent as you would be interested in such atrocities.”
    I wanted to know and I wanted to tell him as much, but I also didn’t want him angry at me for being something other than what he thought I was. I got the distinct feeling that it would send him into a rage like none I’d seen so far. Besides, I probably didn’t want to know.
    “You’re right. I don’t want to know.”
    He nodded and said, “I thought so. Let’s just hope you never have to find out.” Seeing the look on my face he added, “When I brought you here, I had every intention of putting you in the basement with her. But I so enjoyed your fire that I decided to keep you up here with me. The basement is no place for a woman like you, a woman I like so much.”
    “Has she always been down there?”
    He nodded. “From the moment I brought her here. I didn’t even want to bring her home with me, you see. She kept insisting on it, so finally, I brought her with me. I knocked her out when I pulled into the garage, and I carried her downstairs. When she woke, she fought a good fight. It excited me, I have to admit. She’s got spunk, like you. But her spunk is only to benefit herself. She only wishes to be free. I’ve tried many times to strike up a conversation with her, such as we’re having now, but