The Cellar (The Cellar #1)

“Calm down,” I ordered.

“Let me go.” She thrashed her body again and pounded her free fist against my chest. The thuds of her punches didn’t hurt—she didn’t have much strength—but it angered me. I was trying to help—how dare she? I clenched my jaw, grabbed her other hand, and slammed her against the wall. All I could hear was my pulse pounding in my ears. I didn’t want to hurt her, but she left me no choice. Shannen’s piercing screams seemed like background music. Her blatant disrespect drove me insane. I knew what Mother would do, and I could almost hear her barking the order, Kill her.

“Please, please no.” I didn’t like begging. Mother didn’t like begging. It was for the weak.

Kill her. Do it now.

Shannen’s eyes bulged as I held both of her hands in one of mine and pinned my other hand over her mouth. I was fighting myself for control. I wanted to kill her—the knife was in my pocket—but I wanted her too. I wanted her and Mother wanted me to kill her.

She whimpered against my palm. I closed my eyes and concentrated on steadying my heavy, ragged breaths. She’ll be everything I want once she understands. She’s not bad. She doesn’t mean it.

Slowly, I cracked my eyes open. It wasn’t until I saw her terrified expression and her tear-stained face that I realized how vulnerable she was. Shannen was scared and didn’t know what I was offering or how I felt. My heart swelled.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I whispered. “I need you to trust me. All I want is to look after you. You’re home now, sweet Shannen.” I lowered my hand and stroked the side of her face, looking into her eyes. Please believe me.

She gulped. “I believe you’ll look after me, Colin, but I can’t stay here with you.” My face fell. Did she not hear what I told her? She was home. This was where she belonged. “Sorry, I can’t do this. I have to go now.” She took one step away from me, and I felt complete panic. I couldn’t let her walk away from me.

She had barely made two steps when I grabbed her from behind and clamped my hand over her mouth. Her muffled cries tore me apart and I realized this couldn’t work out how I wanted it to—not yet at least. I shoved her into to the drawing room and into the corner.

“Don’t try anything,” I snapped and pushed the bookcase out of the way. She stood still, frozen, as I unlocked the door to the girls’ room. Grabbing her arm, I pulled her with me, dragging her down the stairs.

“No,” she yelled once she realized what was happening. I didn’t want this to happen either; my heart was heavy and my eyes stung with the loss of the life I so desperately wanted with her. But I had no other choice. I couldn’t lose her and this was the only way.

Poppy, Violet, and Lily rose from the sofa and the movement startled Shannen. She screamed, her legs gave way, and she slumped to the ground. “Explain everything to her, Lily,” I ordered and walked back up the stairs. No! No, no, no. I closed the door and locked it before sliding down the wall. Gripping my hair in my hands roughly, I cried in agony. I wanted her to be with me, but now she was Rose.





17


CLOVER

Monday, January 17th (Present)

I watched the clock on my desk and the second it ticked over to five, I shut my computer down and grabbed hold of my briefcase. I needed to leave immediately. My girls wouldn’t have dinner ready for another two hours, as per my request, so I had time.

I drove the thirty minutes to the city with my heart in my mouth, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. It was already dark, but the hostel was just outside the city. This shouldn’t take long anyway.

It had been too long since we had been a complete family—almost six months now. It’s the longest we’d been incomplete. I felt anxious. I drove in the traffic, turning off before it got too bad in the city center. The winding road led to a small train station the hostel was nearby. I parked between the hostel and a block of derelict flats.

Come on, Violet.

She had to come along soon. I had waited so long for her. Lying back against the seat, I glanced out of all the widows and checked the mirrors. The orange glow of the dashboard lit up the clock—thirteen minutes past six. I could only stay another five or ten minutes. My heart raced with anticipation. I wanted her to appear. I needed her.

At 6:22, just as I was about to give up for the evening, I finally spotted her. Her hair was as dark as night and draped all the way down to middle of her back. Violet. She took my breath away. This was her. She started walking in my direction with her backpack hanging from her shoulders.

I opened the door and she sprung to life, jumping back in surprise.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I said, raising my hands to show her I didn’t mean her any harm.

She shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I wasn’t really paying attention.” Smiling briefly, she shrugged her bag back on her shoulder. “My fault.”