Read Online Roman: Book 1 by Kimber S. Dawn - Free Book Online

as well.
    Every day that Dolores tells me how bad she feels for Heather not being able to leave the confines of the manor it spurs me to unleash my anger leaving Heather to be the one who bears the brunt. Sometimes my rage consumes me before I’m even able to finish my dinner and her punishment begins in the dining hall only to be carried to the cellar. Other nights I am able to keep my rage under control, allowing it to boil under the surface. I wait until she’s bathed and dressed in the nightgown I chose and about to slip between her sheets before I wreck misery down upon her body, beating almost every square inch of her flesh and choking her until her consciousness leaves her. The only sound heard through the manner is my dark and eerily calm voice mocking and taunting her and the silly dreams she refuses to let go of.
    We find ourselves in a graceful routine in which Heather either obeys my every command, or allows her silly notions to cloud her judgment
,
leading me to reign punishment upon
her
flesh and fragile mind in the form of my choosing.
    Every morning before I leave for work I unlock the door to her bedroom, open the silver lined pale blue room darkening curtains and sit in the overstuffed cream chair near her bed and watch her sleep for as long as the early morning permits. I brush my lips across every curve of her face before settling them against her lips and whispering, “Time to wake up, mouse. I’ve laid your clothes out expect you to be bathed, waxed, manicured, pedicured, coiffed, dressed and escorted to the dining halls by six thirty as always.”
    Today as I watch her stir under the opulence I provide for her slumber
,
I see the moment my voice registers in her mind.  I enjoy observing her soft sleeping face as fear sharpens her features.
    Today is a very important day.
    Today is the day of reckoning.
    Today questions will be answered and destinies will be made.
    Today marks our sixth week from the day she handed me her life.
    It also represents the first day of the rest of her life.
    “Open your eyes and look into mine, mouse.” Her eyelashes flutter open before her dark chocolate eyes look up at me and I find myself grasping for the right words to explain to her what lies ahead. “Today after your jaw is unwired
,
I advise you to use the day to contemplate the truths you will reveal tonight at dinner. I also suggest using a fair amount of time practicing your speech.  I expect to hear the melody of your voice clearly this evening am I understood?” I stand to my full stature, towering over her and as I button my suit jacket with a sardonic smile I continue, “You’ve known this day was coming for weeks, mouse.  Use this day to prepare yourself for the next phase of your life. Tonight is your moment to shine, do not disappoint me. You and your actions hold the power of your life or death.”

    I know, especially from your standpoint, at this part of the story it seems I want her to fail.  Don’t get me wrong, the evil in me savors the thought of her failing yet another part of me, one I don’t recognize outweighs the evil and wants her to succeed.
    I want her, wholly, irrevocably, and entirely, I want every piece of her.
    Not for weeks, not for months, but forever. I want her to belong to me and me alone, for the rest of my mortality.
    So much so, that when she smiles at me, my airless lungs constrict around something in my chest. It can’t be my heart. It’s something else that isn’t in the medical books. I know this because I was born without a heart.
    The organ beating at a regular pace within my chest cavity has never, and will never feel a single inkling of sympathy, empathy, hope, much less love and appreciation.
    Clinic was hell today. My job is usually 99.9% eye rolling easy, however today instead of delivery after delivery of crying bundles of joy, I was met with chaos, emergency surgeries, and death.
    So, today when I say I’m pissed, it is a horrid