Isaac's eyes were pale as ice, but his pupils were like holes that led right to hell. I couldn't make myself look at him for more than a moment, but I could feel his rage burning into me. My eyes skipped between my bound wrists resting on my lap to Zach. His eyes had fear in them as he looked at his father; we were both waiting on Isaac to do something. I expected nothing less than the treatment I had already received from his brothers, getting slapped, threatened with a knife, or dragged. I anticipated only the worst from him.

I felt my eyes grow wide as I watched Isaac's hand move to the sheath he wore on his belt. He pulled out a large knife, similar to the one Liam had threatened me with. I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest, and I tried to slide down the couch in a feeble attempt to escape.

Isaac moved fast towards me, making me scream. Before I had a chance to push myself off of the couch, he grabbed ahold of my bound arms and forced them against my abdomen so that I couldn't move. My legs kicked and twisted, trying anything I could to fight him, though it was no use. Isaac brought the knife closer to me, and I pinched my eyes shut.

"No, please," I begged through tears. "Please, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I expected to feel pain, but I felt relief as my hands fell apart. I slowly opened my eyes and looked down to see Isaac had cut the ropes that bound my wrists. He pushed himself off me and cleared his throat, his pale eyes still staring daggers into me. "Stand up," He commanded.

I felt like my body had frozen completely, but I could still feel myself tremble with fear. I knew it was probably in my best interest to listen to his orders, so he wouldn't get more upset, but my body wouldn't listen to my brain. "Stand up," He repeated, louder and slower this time.

I swallowed and wiped tears off my cheeks as I slowly stood from the couch. I glanced up at Isaac, taking in his height; he was well over six feet tall. That, and the way his eyes burned a hole through me, made me feel so small and powerless. My eyes fell back down to stare at my feet. I couldn't look at him or Zach. All the courage I had felt before had drained out of me, leaving me with an overwhelming feeling of shame. I was humiliated by this whole experience.

Isaac used his large hand to push my chin up so I would look up at him. Then, his other wrapped around my neck and squeezed until I could no longer breathe. I tried to back away from him, but he was too strong; he held me steady by my neck with a strong grip, even when my knees buckled from beneath me. My fingernails dug into his hand and arm until blood bubbled to the top. To my despair, it didn't phase him; his hold on my neck stayed firm and his face stern.

"Listen to me, Kinsley," He said through gritted teeth. My vision had become blurry, and my ears rang; I knew that if he didn't let go soon, I would pass out. "I know this is all very new to you, but in this house, Zach and I make the rules for you now. You will do whatever we tell you to without question."

He let go of my neck, and I collapsed onto the floor, choking on air as it entered my lungs. Isaac knelt down beside me and wiped the tears away from my eyes with his thumb. "Do you understand?" He asked, holding my face up towards him.

I nodded my head, then he smiled and let me go. I struggled to breathe, and my body trembled as I watched Isaac put his hat back on, then stand in front of his son. "Take her upstairs, get her cleaned up, and let her rest. She's been through a lot today; just don't let her disrespect you, understand?"

Zach nodded his head. "Yes, sir," He answered.

Isaac patted his son on the shoulder, then walked out the front door without another word. The room was now silent apart from my strained breathing. I wiped the tears and snot from my face before trying to stand on unsteady legs.

Zach walked toward me and offered his hand. "Here, let me help you," He said, but I slapped his hand away before he could reach me.

I tried to tell him not to touch me, but the only word my burning throat could muster was a pathetic "Don't."

I pushed myself up slowly, my body and lungs aching with every movement and my legs shaking under my weight. My head felt like it was spinning, so I closed my eyes until I felt steady. When I opened them again, I studied the man before me, the man I was brought to this hell for. He had a lot of Isaac's features, the same strong jaw and face shape, the same bow-shaped lips, and the same nose; his was slightly crooked in the middle of his bridge, though. His eyes were what made him different. Isaac's were narrow and nearly translucent; Zach's were round and full of color, a beautiful mix of blue and green.

It was hard to believe such pretty eyes belonged to a monster like him.

Zach cleared his throat; he looked like he was trying to find words but couldn't. "Let's go upstairs, and I'll help you get cleaned up."

I squinted my eyes at him, then took another look around the living room. If I had even an ounce more strength, I would have run to the front door to see if it was unlocked. I was exhausted, though. I could feel myself shaking, and I knew it was taking all the power left in me just to stand. I wouldn't make it far even if the door was unlocked anyway.

"No," I finally said, though as soon as it slipped from my tongue, I remembered what happened the last time I said it.

He didn't look angry with me, though. He cleared his throat, and I watched as he tried to crack his knuckles with his thumb. He seemed nervous. "I won't hurt you," He said. "I don't want to; I just want to help you."

I didn't care what he wanted.

"I just want to go home," I said.

"This is your home now."

I stared at him. His answer didn't shock me; I knew these people were delusional by thinking any of this was okay, but it made me sick. "No," I said again.

His lips parted, and I could tell he was going to argue with me but decided against it. Instead, he sighed and shook his head. He held his hand out towards me again. "If you come upstairs, I'll help you get cleaned up and give you some time to rest. Otherwise, we're going to stay down here, and I'm not going to leave you alone. It's up to you."

I stared at him for a moment, then sighed and bit the inside of my cheek. I had no option other than to trust him, but I had no intention of making anything easy for him. I walked past him, ignoring the hand he had stretched out for me to take, and made my way to the stairs.

The pain in my ankle made going up the stairs slower than it should have been, but Zach followed me patiently up to the narrow hallway. "Second door on the right," He instructed, and I followed.

The room was quaint, a decent size, with a bed placed in the middle against the outside wall. It didn't have much decoration. White walls, wooden furniture, and deep blue curtains covering the windows. Two more doors were on the other side of the room; I assumed a bathroom and a closet. Between them was a dresser with numerous cowboy hats hanging on the wall above it; other than those, there were no other decorations on the walls.

Boxes in the corner of the room caught my attention; I could see a floral dress sticking out of the top of one.

Zach must have caught me staring. "Sorry for the mess," He said, closing the door behind him. "Dad thought we should have the master bedroom, so I just moved in. Those boxes are filled with some of my mom's old clothes for you."

I hadn't even thought of his mother. "Where is your mom?"

I wondered if she was kidnapped like me.

"She left when I was a kid," He answered, walking towards one of the doors. "Right after Zebulan was born."

Left? It was more of an escape if she was in the same situation as me. I imagined she was, but perhaps not. Maybe Isaac was unstable, and his wife leaving sent him over the edge, and he didn't want his sons to go through the same pain. Whatever the reason I was here, whether his mother was like me or not, her getting out gave me some hope.

Zach opened the door to the right of the dresser and walked into a bathroom. It was dated, with floral wallpaper, a chipping porcelain white countertop and sink; it had an old standup shower with a beautiful clawfoot tub beside it. I stood in the doorway, watching Zach grab a washcloth from the dark wood cabinets under the sink and run it under water.

He beaconed me to join him in the bathroom.

"I can clean myself," I said as I walked in.

"I just want to help you," Zach said.

I rolled my eyes at him before looking into the mirror above the sink. The reflection I was met with made my heart sink into my stomach. I hardly recognized myself. My brown eyes looked nearly black, surrounded by dark circles, and my eyelids were red and swollen from crying. My skin looked dewy and pale, drained of life and the tan I had gotten through the summer; scratches and bruises covered my face and arms, and a pink handprint stained my neck.

I studied a wound on my temple, covered in dry blood, and tears flooded my eyes as another memory from the night before came to mind.

I remembered now running through the woods in the darkness. It was Isaac behind me, running right on my heel; he was faster than he seemed. I tripped on a root or rock, something. I didn't fall, but it was enough for him to catch up; he grabbed me and pulled my arm behind me, making me fall onto my back.

I struggled as he straddled me, holding me down with one hand and getting a rope to tie me with the other. He fought with me as I tried everything possible to keep the ropes from wrapping around my wrists.

"Let go of me!" I demanded through tears.

"Stop fighting me!" He yelled as he grabbed a fistful of my hair. His face got closer to mine, and my nails sunk deep into his skin, wherever I could get them to catch, trying to push him away from me. "I've had enough of this," He mumbled. He tightened his grip on my hair and swung my head. I remember hearing a crack, then my ears ringing before my vision faded.

Tears streamed down my face as I now examined a bruise forming on my bicep; I turned to see another beginning at the top of my shoulder. The tank top I wore didn't hide much, making me realize how broken my body was now. So many emotions overtook me as I realized just how defeated I was.

I backed away from the mirror and squeezed my eyes shut as my tears became sobs. My back hit a wall behind me, and I leaned into it to hold myself up as my body shook with my cries.

"Hey, hey, hey, no. It's okay," Zach cooed. He reached out to me, and I slapped his hand away as my body slid down the wall.

"Don't touch me!" I screamed as loud as my injured throat would allow me. "You're a monster, just like your father!"

He knelt down in front of me, his eyes filled with worry. "No, no, we're not. Please-"

"Look at me!" I demanded. "Your dad did this! He killed my family! He killed them!" My sobs intensified, and my breathing became quick and shallow. My knees curled into my chest, and I pressed my palms into my eyes, trying to stop the tears.

"Please, just calm down, Kinsley. It's going to be okay." He gently grabbed my wrists, trying to pull them away from my face. "You'll see; you'll be okay."

I snatched my hands away and stared at him for a moment. Okay? I wasn't going to be okay. I would never be okay again being trapped in this house without my family, and it was his fault.

I pushed him away from me, watching the shock grow on his face.

"Stop it, Kinsley," He said, coming closer to me again. He reached his hand out to me, and I slapped it, then pushed him away from me again. He didn't go far when I pushed him, he was much stronger than me, but I kept doing it.

"I hate you!" I cried. He tried to protest, to hold my hands away from him, but I wouldn't stop. I kept pushing, kept screaming over and over. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

My tantrum ended abruptly with a rough slap to my cheek. I caught myself before my head hit the floor and tried to catch my breath. I sucked in hard breaths as I listened to Zach's footsteps walk away from the bathroom. I heard him shuffle around in the bedroom as I sat back up, resting my head and back against the wall. What were once quick, shallow breaths turned deep and slow as I tried to calm myself down. My heart wouldn't stop racing, though.

Zach soon came back holding what looked to be clothes and a few bottles of toiletries. He sat them on the counter before turning to look at me. He knelt down again and wiped stray tears away from my face. "I didn't want to hurt you," He started. "I'm going to go to work and give you some alone time to process all of this. Take a shower and get some rest, okay? I know this is hard to understand right now, but things will get better. I promise."

I raised my head from against the wall and furrowed my brow at him. My glossy eyes stared deep into his. I had nothing left in me to fight now; I was even more tired than before. My head was throbbing, and I could feel my body shaking like a leaf. If I could have, I would've screamed at him again. He had no right to act like he understood what I was going through, no right to act like any of this was or was going to be okay.

"Go to hell," I mumbled. I closed my eyes and rested my head back onto the wall, bringing my knees to my chest once more. I was trying to act calm, but my stomach had been twisting with nerves ever since I woke up in that god-forsaken truck. Everything that had happened to me in less than twelve hours made me nauseous.

He lingered for a moment but decided not to fight me anymore. I peeked my eyes open to watch him leave the bathroom. He cleared his throat as he grabbed a hat off the wall and put it on his head, and without another word, he left.

I listened as his footsteps traveled down the stairway, then I heard the front door open and shut. I couldn't help the sob that escaped my throat once I was finally alone. As much as my body ached and cried in pain with every sharp breath, it felt good to finally let myself succumb to all the feelings I had been trying to suppress all day.

With the sobs, I could no longer hold the vomit that I had been swallowing down all day. I raced to the toilet before the puke came from my throat. I let out a cry as the burning liquid excited my body a few more times before I was left retching.

My body trembled as I relaxed back onto the floor, trying to calm myself before I took a shower.

My sobs eventually turned into silent tears as I again pondered what had happened the night before. I hated Isaac for what he did, and I hated Zach for being okay with all of this. I didn't get to say goodbye to them; I didn't get to grieve them. I didn't know whether or not it was right for me to blame myself for their death, but I did. They died, and I lived, and that wasn't fair.

I sighed and wiped the tears from my eyes as I realized I didn't know if I hated Isaac more for killing my family or for not letting me go with them.