Page 2 of Unmasked Prophecy
My voice shakes as I begin to sing, soft and slow, the lullaby my mother once sang to me before this place swallowed her whole. Before my father became —
The chosen one.
The Father. The deliverer. The monster.
"What the hell are you doing in here?"
The voice rips through me, causing my spine to go rigid and my voice to crack mid-song. My heart lurches as I whip around. Standing in the entrance is Reginald, Lily’s father — a brutal man with black eyes and cruelty etched into every line of his face.
His gaze falls to the food. The water. The pill bottle peeking from my pocket. He bares his teeth.
"No," I whisper, standing quickly, shielding Lily with my body.
Reginald crosses the space in two strides, his hand closing around my hair, yanking so hard I feel small strands tearing from my scalp. Pain rips down my spine as he hauls me backward out of the tent. Lily, who is sobbing now, stares at me with horror. She knows what happens to those who disobey. Even at five,she knows.
"It's okay, Lily!" I cry, even as my scalp burns and tears blur my vision. "It's okay, honey. I'm okay."
Lily’s sobs pierce the air, but they only make Reginald snarl louder, dragging me across the dirt.
People stand outside their tents and watch.
They always watch.
Blank faces. Lowered eyes.
Not one of them steps forward.
Not one dares.
Here, punishment isn't cruelty. It’s deserved.
If I have done something wrong, then I deserve everything I get. Nobody would dare fight against his word.
"Father!" Reginald bellows. "Father!"
I stumble, my knees scraping raw against the ground as I collapse, unable to keep my footing. Pain rips through me as small pieces of debris bury into my skin, but I don’t cry out. I will never give them that satisfaction. I will never yield and give my father what he wants.
Not ever.
From the center of the camp, my father emerges. Calm. Immaculate. Dressed in white, his shirt perfectly pressed and buttoned to the very top, his slacks fitting as though they were made for him. His eyes, as green as mine, never show a hint of rage or emotion. He never yells, he never shows hatred or fear.He is always in control of himself, and that’s what makes him even more terrifying.
His eyes lock onto mine — and there is no recognition. No love. Only judgment.
"What has happened, Reginald?" he asks, his voice a calm, almost songlike murmur.
"I caught her feeding my child, giving her water and medication. She stole from you, Father, to feed the weak."
The weak.
I fight the urge to bellow profanities at him. Lily isn’t weak, she’s a child who needs caring for.
"What have you to say for yourself, Nia?"
I don’t look up as he speaks to me.No. I keep my eyes lowered to the ground as I mutter, "I’d do it again. A thousand times over. She is a child."
He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t yell. He just stands there, staring down at me.
"Hang her," he says calmly. "Five lashes. One extra for every bite the child took."
