Chapter 5
And then I punched her. Or maybe she punched me first. Doesn’t matter.
I came home bruised up, hiding welts beneath layers of patched-up fabric. Didn’t leave my room all day.
By the time the sun dipped low and the sky went bloody pink, Ethan had chopped a full cord of wood, wiped sweat off his brow with a rag, and started supper like clockwork.
Usually I helped. Not tonight.
“Nina! Dinner!” he called from the kitchen.
I muttered, “Not hungry.”
He raised a brow, turned to Winnie, who was outside playing with mud. “What’s wrong with her?”
Winnie twisted her pigtails. “Auntie’s grumpy. Didn’t even braid my hair today.”
Ethan set down his basket and walked to the back room. He raised a fist, about to push the door open—but paused. Then knocked.
“Nina, I’m coming in.”
I was curled up in the corner like a kicked dog. At the sound of his voice, I dove under the blanket.
“Don’t—don’t come in.”
Silence. Then the blanket lifted anyway. I peeked out and met Ethan’s dark, stormy gaze.
Yelping, I buried myself again.
He grabbed the quilt and pulled, slow but firm. My face and neck were covered in scratches. Purple, raw, angry.
His jaw tightened. He reached out—calloused fingertips brushed my cheek. I flinched.
“Who did this?”
“I got into it with Mrs. Lee and her girls,” I whispered. “They said I was dumb… said you bought me… I couldn’t take it.”
Tears welled again, falling fast and hot. I didn’t even care.
Ethan growled. “Stop crying.”
I bit my lip hard, choking back the sobs.
“…Shit,” he muttered, voice softening. He tilted my chin up and wiped the tears from my face.
“I’ll go get medicine.”
