Chapter 9 - The Scalding Tea
|
Constance finally stood up from the head of the table.
She crossed the dining room incredibly slowly. The sharp, rhythmic sound of her expensive heels clicking against the hardwood was calm, deliberate, and utterly terrifying. She wasn't rushing to help; she was strolling over to inspect her handiwork.
She bent down beside me, her silk blouse pristine, holding the heavy porcelain teapot in her hands.
Thick, swirling steam rose from the spout of the cup.
“You should have simply left when you first realized you were not wanted in this family,” Constance whispered, her face hovering just inches above mine.
I could not answer her. My throat had become a tightly locked door, completely sealing off my oxygen.
Constance tilted the porcelain teapot forward.
The boiling, scalding liquid spilled directly across my bare collarbone and the exposed skin of my upper chest.
Agony exploded through me, bright, searing, and blinding. The heat was unimaginable, blistering my skin instantly. I tried to thrash away, to roll over, but my body would not cooperate. My muscles felt entirely disconnected from my brain due to the lack of oxygen. I heard myself make a horrific, gurgling sound, but it barely resembled a human voice.
Constance leaned in even closer, the smell of her expensive perfume mixing with the scent of my burning skin.
“Die quickly,” she whispered into my ear, a dark, venomous command. “My son desperately needs the insurance money. And he needs a new wife who actually knows how to belong to this family.”
Graham covered his face with both of his hands, unable to watch the physical torture.
“I didn’t agree to this part,” he whimpered weakly, shrinking back. “You said it would just be the food.”
May you like
She turned toward him, her face twisting with absolute contempt for her own son.
“You agreed to all of it the exact moment you forged the policy, you fool,” she snapped.
