Chapter 272
Trigger Warning:
This Chapter contains graphic depictions of abuse, domestic violence, child trauma, sexual violence, and non-consensual acts that may be deeply distressing or triggering for some readers. Please proceed with caution. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
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Little Asher continuously peered out the door, his eyes shining with a curiosity typical of children his age. However, Henry noticed him at that very moment, and his entire face flooded with rage. Violet had never seen a man that terrifying, and she’d bet her ass he was about to hurt him.
“No, don’t!” Violet tried to stop him but her hands simply went through him like air. Oh right, she was seemingly a spectator in this quickly spiraling nightmare.
Henry marched over to where little Asher was hiding and grabbed him roughly by the clothes, yanking him into the office.
“What are you doing here?!” he roared. “Have you come to eavesdrop and plot ways to defeat me before my time?”
Asher, clueless as to what he meant, shook his head frantically. “I didn’t mean to, Papa! Please don’t hurt me!”
The boy must have unintentionally imbued his power into those words because Henry found himself releasing him without meaning to. And when Henry realized what had happened, his eyes darkened with rage.
“What have I told you about taking off the glasses?! How many times have I said I don’t want to see those cursed eyes of yours!” Henry could only scold him furiously, seeing he couldn’t hurt him—thanks to the command the boy had given.
“I-I’m sorry, Papa! I’m so sorry!” young Asher cried between bursts of tears.
“Henry, that’s enough!” the other man called out, and that seemed to distract Henry just long enough for Asher to bolt out of the room before he knew what was happening.
Violet couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as soon as Asher was gone. Then she turned to glare at Henry, her disdain for the man so strong it flowed through her like a living force. How she wished she could hurt him so badly!
But before she could take a step toward him, the scene shifted so abruptly, like someone had pulled the world out from under her feet, and the next moment, Violet found herself seated with no recollection of how she got there.
It was a dining table stretching long enough to seat at least twenty guests, its polished surface gleaming under the light.
At the head of the table, seated the stern and imposing Henry while adjacent to him, not quite at the head but close enough to speak intimately, sat a stunning woman with dark, flowing hair.
Violet, curiously, found herself seated directly opposite the woman. But unlike everyone else at the table, there was no plate before her, nor even a glass of water. She wasn’t a guest at this meal, but a spectator as always.
Now what? Violet braced herself, dreading whatever memory she was about to witness next. Unlike other children whose childhoods were filled with rainbows and sunshine, Asher’s was shaping up to be an epic horror movie. Her heart skipped, already fearing what might come next.
Then her gaze fell on a golden bell placed right beside Henry’s hand and without hesitation, he picked it up and rang it, the sound slicing through the air. Violet’s brow furrowed, a cold, crawling sensation twisting in the pit of her stomach. Something about that particular move felt wrong.
And just as she feared, the door creaked open and Asher stepped into the room.
Fuck her entire existence.
He was controlling Asher with a damn bell like he was some obedient cat. What the actual hell?!
It was clear Asher had grown since the last time she saw him. Eight? Nine? Ten? Violet couldn’t tell, especially not with how thin and frail he looked. Yet, despite little Asher’s sunken cheeks, there was something eerily mature in his expression.
The face behind the glasses didn’t belong to a child. Whatever Henry had been doing all these years, it was finally beginning to show. Asher wasn’t just playing the obedient son, he was becoming the perfect little soldier.
“You called for me, sir,” he said, voice flat, cold and far too composed for a boy his age.
“It’s time for breakfast. Sit.” Henry’s tone left no room for argument, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction as Asher moved without hesitation to the opposite end of the table. The other head seat positioned perfectly to face Henry. So they could stare each other down like king and pawn.
“No,” the dark haired woman suddenly said.
“Excuse me?” Henry’s head whipped in her direction, his beaded eyes pinning her at the spot.
The woman swallowed fearfully, yet there was a defiance in her eyes as she said, “I want my son seated next to me today. I want him beside me,” she demanded.
Of course. This was Asher’s mother. No wonder. Violet should have known — the hair, the face — the resemblance was stark. Although, at this point, Violet was beginning to fear for her, because she had a feeling this nightmare was only just beginning.
Henry looked at her for a while, then finally blinked. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
However, Asher’s mother got up to her feet abruptly, snapping, “I am so sick and tired of how you’re treating that boy. He’s our son, not one of your fucking soldiers!”
But Henry didn’t even acknowledge her presence, calmly dipping his bread into his soup and eating without a care in the world. The blatant dismissal only fueled her fury. She stormed over to him and, in one swift motion, swept his plate off the table with a loud crash.
“I’m fucking talking to you!” she yelled, her voice trembling with rage. “Don’t treat me like I don’t exist! Like my opinion doesn’t matter! I’m your wife, for the moon’s sake! Your partner — you’re supposed to treat me like one!”
The script was clearly written. With a man like Henry, Violet already knew how this was going to end. And yet, it still didn’t stop the startled yelp that escaped her lips when Henry struck his wife hard across the face.
“You mouthy bitch!” Henry growled in irritation, “It seems you’ve forgotten who you’re dealing with!”
Asher’s mother cried out in pain, the sound seeming to get Asher off his seat and he obviously wanted to help his mother but Henry’s face whipped to him and he commanded in a terrifying tone. “Sit your ass back down or your punishment will be worse than hers.”
Violet could see the conflict in little Asher’s eyes. He wanted to protect his mother but he was just a little boy. Violet didn’t even blame Asher when he reluctantly sat down. After all, who knew what Henry had done to him in the past to keep him this subdued.
“Good boy.” Henry smiled, his eyes glinting in such a way that told Violet he would ruffle Asher’s hair if he had been close enough.
Henry continued, saying, “Perhaps, it’s time I teach you something new. Think of it as a reward. You’re a growing boy and would need it soon enough. You need to learn that women are dogs that need to be controlled. They are to be trained to be of use. Hence when they misbehave, it’s your right as the owner to straighten them. ”
Henry then grabbed Asher’s mother by the hair so violently that she screamed out in pain. But the sound didn’t faze him in the slightest. Violet’s eyes widened, a wave of nausea rising in her throat as she watched him bend the woman over the table and say to little Asher, “So watch and learn, boy.”
Oh God. No.
It couldn’t be what she was thinking.
But it was exactly what she was thinking.
Violet wanted to scream at Henry to stop, but just like Asher was paralyzed on the spot as Henry lifted the woman’s skirt with her screaming at him to stop all to no avail.
Then she turned towards Asher with a look of terror, screaming, “Don’t look son!”
And just as Asher wanted to obey….
“Look here!” Henry countered her command, “Watch exactly how women are conquered! Look carefully as I put her in her place!”
Asher did obey.
He watched obediently, his eyes trained on his father who thrust into his mother even with her struggles.
He watched as the fight was eased out of his mother’s body with time, her protests finally turning into sounds of pleasure as she gave into her body’s demand even as tears slipped down her face.
He watched his father shudder at last, an euphoric look on his face.
He watched as he slipped out of her mother, pushing her aside as if she were trash now she fulfilled his need.
He watched his mother crumble to the floor, broken.
He watched as his father walked up to him with a smug look on his face and patted him on the face.
“Good boy,” Henry said, then left him to take in the rest of his mother’s shame.
Asher watched all of this, the memory forever imprinting in his head.
The only difference was, this time, Violet Purple watched with him.