Chapter 10

                                    

                                          
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Silas hadn't even been out of the door for a full minute before the handle started to jiggle and Jonah barged in. He frowned when he saw me sitting there.
"What do you think you're doing?" I realized I was looking at him in the eye, so I quickly averted my gaze. "Get up, shower, and get dressed. We're leaving in an hour." He threw a lump at me that flashed me in the eyes as it passed the light. I barely caught it before it hit my face. 
"Where are we going?" I forced my voice to leave my throat, although it came out barely above a whisper. 
"To the club." With those words, my stomach dropped.
I hated going to the club. It was so crowded, the people were too touchy, and I always ended the night with a headache from way-too-loud music. But, like I had been trained, I simply nodded and slipped out from under the covers to head to the bathroom.
"Wait." I paused with one foot on the carpet of the bedroom and one on the tile of the bathroom. I heard the bedsheets crinkle behind me. "These sheets are... clean." I racked my brain, trying to figure out why that would matter.
"Aren't you on your period?"
I felt the bile rise in my throat. No no no no. 
The sound of shuffling increased as Jonah kept pulling around the cover, trying to find something that wasn't there. The movement of bedsheets behind me stopped as the footsteps started up. A strong hand grabbed my bicep and began to drag me back towards the main house. I could barely keep up as Jonah pulled me along to whatever punishment awaited me. 
I crouched in the corner, protecting my stomach with my legs, my arm covering my head. As Jonah told Deacon what he found, or in this case, what he didn't find. The further he got in the story, the angrier Deacon got. When Jonah explained how he found me, a fist pounded on the desk in Deacon's office.
And then it became deathly silent. I felt someone kneel beside my crouched form, but I didn't even flinch. I knew there was nothing I could do to escape what was coming.
"Look at me, Emerson."
I didn't look at him. Instead, I curled further into myself. Then, I felt cold fingers curl around my throat, squeezing just enough to hurt.
"Look. At. Me." He commanded, and I knew I dare not deny him a second time. Slowly, I brought my face out from its hiding place to face Deacon's wrath. Instead of looking exceedingly angry, he appeared calm, which meant it was much, much worse. 
"What did you do?"
I swallowed, but the lump in my throat remained. "N-n-nothing." His grip tightened around my throat, beginning to restrict some airflow. 
His jaw clenched. "Tell me exactly what happened." 
"He-he-he-he didn't ask me t-t-to do anything. He ju-ju-just wanted me to lie there. He d-d-didn't ask me to do an-an-anything but lie down." I shook my head. "That's it." 
His grip on my neck suddenly released, and I sucked in a deep breath. He stood up and walked back around to the other side of the desk, sinking down into his chair. He didn't even look at me as he spoke.