Chapter 13

 Clara spoke about the wedding for multiple nights before we settled into bed. If she was not reliving the details of the wedding, she was discussing Miles’s future with Maisie. Her eyes were bright and her smile was wide when she gushed about having grandchildren. Bram’s name was never brought up. We did not need him. He would soon become a distant memory. We were making this family thrive on our own.

Initially, I was worried about Maisie’s meltdown at the wedding. Up until then, her behavior was not too concerning. She had a brief moment of being upset when she regained consciousness, but it appeared like she was adjusting to this family. Her screaming and crying throughout our ceremony were not what I anticipated. She managed to control herself somewhat when I threatened to cut her arm. The physical threat was enough to correct her behavior.

When Miles brought her to their room, I was surprised she did not carry on with her tears. Was she already trusting my son?

Maisie was quiet for the next few days. She said only a dozen or so words and avoided looking at us, but she did whatever Miles or Clara asked. Her lips wavered when she smiled, so I could tell she was not yet comfortable. She lingered around the doors and stared at the knives longer than intended.

Her calmness was an act. She thought she could outsmart us. She was going to run at any moment. I needed to show her the consequences of trying to run away. She was safer in this house than returning to that disgusting tavern.

I stayed up late the past few nights, remembering how she tried to leave her first night here. Sitting in the dark, I was hidden among the shadows at the kitchen table. I limited myself to one glass of whiskey each night so my mind would be clear when I caught Maisie trying to leave.

I was almost done with my whiskey when the stairs creaked. My lips curled into a smile as I listened to the slow and spaced-out sound of the creak. Maisie was attempting to sneak out, just like I had expected.

Maisie was barely visible in the moonlight pouring through the window. I did not move so that I would not make a noise. In the darkness, she could not see me. There was also no attempt to survey her surroundings. Assuming we were all asleep, she went straight to the kitchen counter. She grabbed a knife from the block before she crept to the back door. I imagined her hands were shaking as she fumbled with the lock. Once she had the door open, I stood.

Her gasp was audible when my chair screeched across the floor. She took a quick glance over her shoulder before running. She would not get too far. Her small stature would make her easier to catch. She had no shoes and her dress would restrict her movements even more. I sprinted after as she ran into the yard. If she was a little faster, she may have been able to hide in the dark. As I came closer, I could see the knife in her right hand.

Would she attempt to attack me?

I grabbed her right elbow, and she screamed. She flailed in my grip, and her panic stopped her from thinking clearly. She was a smart girl, but she was not smart enough. I grabbed her waist and threw her down onto the ground. The knife was knocked out of her hand. She screamed and attempted to crawl toward her weapon. I pressed my weight into her back to pin her down.

“Where are you going, Maisie?” I asked.

“Get off me!” she screamed.

She tried to throw her elbow backward, but it was futile. I grabbed her arms and rolled her onto her back. She swung her hands in an attempt to hit me in the face, but I held her wrists in a crushing hold. It was easy to gain control over her as I pinned her arms down on the wet grass.

“Why are you trying to leave?” I asked.

“You’re sick!” she screamed.

“Maisie-“

“Fuck you!”

I let go of her wrist and slapped her across the face. My palm burned and tingled from the contact. It was much harder than when I hit her on her first day here. She yelped in pain. Her head was rolled to the side, and she cradled her cheek with her hand. Her cries echoed through the silent air. She could scream and cry, but no one outside this family was going to hear.

“You need to learn some respect,” I said.

“Why are you doing this?” she said between sobs.

“We’re doing this to take care of you.” I grabbed her chin and forced her to stare at me. She grabbed my wrist but was not strong enough to push me away. Her warm tears rolled over my fingers. “Maisie, I brought you here because you belong in this family. We are going to take care of you. We love you. Nothing in the outside world is ever going to hurt you again.”

She started shaking her head, but I tightened my grip to stop her movements.

“Don’t act like this,” I said.

“Let me go,” she said. “Please.”

It was a desperate plea. Her voice was weak and threatening to crack. Surprisingly, her sobs stopped. Did she run out of tears?

“Let you go?” I asked. “Maisie, why would you want to go back? You had nothing. If you leave here, you’re going back to that disgusting tavern. You will live the rest of your life being used by men purely for their enjoyment. No one loved you, and no one will ever love you in that lifestyle. This family is what you need. You are a Wilcox now.”

The hinges on the door creaked. I looked over my shoulder to see Miles. He dug the heel of his palm into his eye as he walked toward us. His hair was a mess, and he was not wearing a shirt. The screaming probably woke him, and he rushed when he saw Maisie was no longer in his bed. Without saying a word, he got onto his knees next to us. Maisie’s hand did not leave her cheek, but now her eyes were squeezed shut.

“What’s going on?” Miles asked.

“Maisie thought she could sneak away,” I said. “She needs to be reminded that this is where she belongs.”

Miles let out a deep breath. He raked his fingers through his hair. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes were fixated on Maisie. She had yet to open her eyes, but her breathing was rapid and shallow.

“How do we do that?” Miles asked.

Maisie needed to realize she belonged here. Her thinking needed to be altered, and we needed to reshape her mind. She needed to understand she relied on this family.

“Maisie,” I said, but she did not move. “Do you realize that we are taking care of you?”

She muttered something that I could not understand. The way she shook her head told me she would continue to fight.

“We have to show Maisie that she needs us,” I said. “We are the only ones who will take care of her.”

“How?” Miles asked.

“Do as I say.”

I got off my knees and pulled Maisie onto her feet. She attempted to free herself from my grasp, but I tightened my grip. I yanked her into my chest. She bit her lip as she looked up at me.

“Miles, get some rope,” I said.

Maisie’s eyes went wide. Her movements were jerky as she tried to pull away. She shook her head furiously as her breathing quickened.

“No!” she screamed. “Let me go! You can’t do this!”

“Maisie, show us some respect,” I said. “Do not raise your voice.”

She hesitated when she opened her mouth. Was she going to swear again? The pale skin on her cheek was bright red from my earlier discipline. She said nothing, so she was already learning.

“Get the rope,” I told Miles. “I am going to bring her back to your bedroom.”

“She is going to be okay?” Miles asked.

“She will be fine,” I said. “We are just fixing her attitude.”

“She won’t get hurt, right?”

I raised my brow as I looked at my son. He had always been rough with the other children at church. That was what made Miles an easy target to blame for the fire. They already saw him as disturbed.

“Maisie will be okay,” I said. “We are not hurting her. We are punishing her to fix her behavior so that she will learn.”

I pushed Maisie toward the house. She struggled in my grip. Her knees went weak as she tried to drop her body to the ground. Luckily, her small frame made it easier for me to pull her up. I brought my lips down to her ear to ensure that she could hear my warning.

“You need to listen,” I said. “No screaming, or there will be big consequences. Do you understand?”

Maisie sniffled. She tried to speak but sobbed instead. She nodded and seemed to melt in my arms. Similar to the wedding, her meltdown caused her to lose her strength. This would be an advantage.

I bent down and threw Maisie over my shoulder. Her punches to my back were so light that I could barely feel her attack. When I entered the house, Clara was standing at the kitchen counter and staring out the window. When did she come downstairs? How much did she see? She was silent but chewing on her fingernails as she watched me bring Maisie upstairs. She knew better than to say anything or try to interfere.

I dropped Maisie onto the bed. To my surprise, she did not attempt to scramble and run away. She rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. I turned on the oil lamp to provide a faint glow in the room. Miles was quickly in the bedroom with multiple coils of rope. I took one, and he dropped the rest on the foot of the bed.

“Grab her arms,” I told him.

He stared at Maisie. She was quiet, but her shaking shoulders gave away that she was still sobbing.

“Miles,” I said. My voice was stern.

“She won’t get hurt?” he asked again.

“No,” I said. “We’re doing this to help her. We’re going to fix her attitude.”

Miles put his knee on the bed and reached for Maisie. He grabbed her shoulder and rolled her onto her back. She did not fight when he grabbed her wrists and held her hands above her head. She looked up when I tied the rope around her wrists and bound her to the bed. Once I finished, she looked away from us.

“How long do we keep her like this?” Miles asked.

Maisie was not screaming and crying, but she was twisting her wrists. I leaned forward to see her wince as the thick coils of rope burned into her flesh. She rolled away to hide her face. Her mind was still focused on running away.

“For a while,” I said. “She needs to learn that we are taking care of her.”

“I just leave her like this?” Miles asked.

“Yes. Only untie her when she needs to go to the bathroom but do not let her out of your sight.”

“Did you do this to Mom?”

I glared at Miles. He did not see my annoyance because he was focused on Maisie. His arms were crossed and he was chewing on his lip. The whiskey may have been fogging my brain, but I could see he looked worried. He had never been concerned about a girl before. Maisie was the right choice.

“Your mother always knew she was meant to be a Wilcox,” I said. “Maisie will soon learn and understand.”

Miles sat on the edge of the bed. He tucked Maisie’s hair behind her ear. She did not flinch, even when he brushed the back of his knuckles across her cheek.

“You are keeping this family together,” I said. “Don’t be weak.”