Chapters (42)
- Cover
- Painful
- Books By S.C. Stephens
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
My eyes wide and fearful, I looked back at my father. “No, I’m sorry…I wasn’t…I’m sorry.”
I backed up a step, and even as I did it, I knew it was the absolute wrong thing to do. Dad’s face turned a fearsome shade of red as he watched my pathetic attempt to escape. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
He started undoing his belt, and my heart hammered in my chest. No. This wasn’t real. This was a dream, a horrible, horrible dream. My parents were dead. Gone. Buried. They couldn’t hurt me anymore.
My dad’s lip curved in a cruel smile. “You’re wrong about that, son. There’s so much more we can do to you now. Because now…we know everything you’ve ever done. You can’t hide from us anymore. You’ll never be free.”
Having Dad inside my head was too much to handle. Twisting around, I bolted for the door. If there was one thing I was good at now, it was running. I was younger than him, faster, had more endurance—he’d never catch me, and unlike when I was a child, I didn’t have to let this happen, didn’t have to let him beat me. I never had to come back to this hellhole. Ever.
I managed to slip away from Mom, but when I got to the entryway of my massive childhood home, I instantly knew it didn’t matter. There were no doors, no windows, no stairs to the upper floors. There was absolutely nowhere for me to go. Dad strolled into the room, smacking his belt against his hand. I twisted and turned, looking for an exit, but even the hallway to the kitchen was gone now. I was trapped. And alone.
“You finally get it, don’t you? You can’t escape who you are, Kellan. You can’t escape your history. There’s no point even trying.”
He shrugged, like condemning me to a lifetime of pain was a simple thing. Then he brought the belt down. I raised my arms to protect my face, and the thick leather ripped into my exposed forearms. As pain, humiliation, and defeat coursed through me, I realized he was right. He could do so much more to me now…now that he was forever locked inside my head. I’d never truly be free.