The Fake Wife

Gracie

Gracie

The car stopped outside our family home, and Warren squeezed my hand. "Ready?" I nodded. He got out of the car and fixed his tie. "Let's just hope the music you will face won't be too loud this time, Gracie."

We both knew it would be. He scanned his dark eyes on me and said sternly. "Fix your blouse. You know better than that."

I quickly fixed my appearance knowing minor details matter in our household and took a deep breath. I should have left. Why on God's Earth did I ask my brother for help? My brother hates deception as much as my father does. The only good thing that came out of my relationship with my half-brother was at least Warren loved me in his own way.

As we walked to the library, I looked around, and there was nobody on this side of the wing. Father never liked witnesses when he was teaching me a lesson. After Warren's call, he must have told everybody to stay clear of this side of the house.

Warren put a hand on the doorknob to open and I covered his hand with mine, trying to stop him. He sighed. "Father already knows Gracie. There is no getting away from his wrath now."

He removed my hand and pushed the door. We walked in and Father looked as healthy as ever, sitting on his red leather armchair by the fireplace. His grey hair was styled back, not even a strand of hair out of place. I looked around, and the library looked the same as I had last saw.

I whispered. "Daddy."

Without a word, he walked slowly towards me and backhanded my left cheek. It was so strong that I fell on the carpet. On my knees, I held my troubled cheek. It was hot, and I tried to blink away the tears. He never liked to hear me crying.

Dad moved his hand to his belt, and I looked at Warren. Warren moved and held his forearm. "Don't! She isn't a little girl anymore. Gracie is a grown woman now."

He looked at Warren, and his dark eyes said he would hurt him too for the first time if he did not take his hand off his arm. "She is still my daughter. You can come back when I'm done if you can't handle it. But you should be here and learn. Soon you will have to deal with your daughters."

Warren looked at me, and I looked away, knowing he could not stop what was to come. He stepped back, not liking what would happen, and said through his teeth. "I think I have learned enough all those years."

It did not take long for me to feel the leather belt bruising my skin. I gasped, not expecting the first strike to be so hard. Warren moved again to defend me, but stopped when Dad narrowed his eyes at him.

The belt struck a few more times, and each time was harder to keep quiet. "Enough with the noise, Gracie. Have you forgotten how you should take it?"

Holding onto the wooden leg of the sofa for support, I muffled my cries. I concentrated my eyes on the patterns on the carpet Warren's mother had picked for this room when I was a little girl.

After he had had enough. He put the belt back on his trousers and squatted down, lifting my face. Dad cleaned my tears and stroked my head as if he was a loving father. "You shouldn't cry, my Gracie. You know that is a sign of weakness."

Dad pulled me closer to his chest, soothing me. It always had been like that. His mind games with me because his firstborn was a girl. I held on to his embrace with everything I had and bit inside my mouth to stop the tears. But how could I not cry if I was hurting?

The love in his embrace and his hands did not stop stroking my hair. The same hands that not a minute ago were hurting me. That was what our relationship was based on. He was a monster, and I was aware of it, yet I could not help wanting his care.