Chapter 13
Elise's POV
Ever since I was little, every time Benjamin said he wanted to "talk alone," it always ended up turning into something that made me sick to my stomach.
When I first came to this house at thirteen, he "checked my body" for me.
At fifteen, when I came out of the shower, he "happened to" pass by the bathroom door.
On a late night when I was seventeen, he got drunk, pushed open my bedroom door, and stood by my bed for a long time.
Those memories crawled out from the darkness like insects, crawling across my skin, raising goosebumps all over my body.
I instinctively took a step back, my spine pressing against the cold wall.
Benjamin noticed my movement.
He didn't immediately come over. Instead, he walked slowly to the bed and sat down.
The spring mattress let out a dull sound beneath his weight.
He patted the space beside him.
"Come here. Sit."
My stomach churned.
"No need," I said. "I'm fine standing."
"Elise."
He called my name.
His tone wasn't sharp like Margaret's, nor hysterical like Anna's.
His voice was light, low, carrying an uncomfortable casualness.
As if he'd just casually remarked, "Nice weather today."
But I knew this kind of calm was more terrifying than any threat.
"Come here, sit beside your uncle."
He didn't use a commanding tone.
But each word was like an invisible rope, slowly tightening around me.
My feet didn't move.
"I'm fine standing."
Benjamin looked at me without speaking.
The room was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat.
Then he stood up.
He walked toward me.
Each step was unhurried, carrying that suffocating sense of oppression I'd feared since childhood.
I instinctively wanted to create distance, but behind me was the wall—I had nowhere left to retreat.
Benjamin stopped in front of me.
He was half a head shorter than me, but at this moment his shadow completely engulfed me.
He raised his hand.
My breathing stopped for an instant.
His fingers didn't land on my face, nor did they touch my shoulder.
He simply reached out and slowly tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
The movement was gentle.
So gentle that if I weren't currently rigid with tension, it could almost be called tender.
But the moment his fingertips made contact, my skin erupted in dense goosebumps.
"You see," Benjamin said in a low voice, the corner of his mouth curving up, "you're still so afraid of me."
He withdrew his hand and stepped back.
Then he walked back to the bed and sat down, crossing his legs as he looked at me.
"Don't be nervous," he said. "Uncle just wants to talk with you."
His gaze slowly slid down from my face, like a hand groping in the darkness.
I lowered my eyes, not letting him see anything in my expression.
Deep breath.
Once.
Twice.
I counted silently in my mind, pushing back down all the fear and disgust that surged up, bit by bit.
You can do this.
You're not a thirteen-year-old girl anymore.
I raised my head and looked directly into Benjamin's eyes.
"Benjamin," I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible, "I'm twenty-two years old now."
He raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.
"I'm an adult now," I continued, each word squeezed out from between my teeth. "I hope... certain things won't happen again in the future."
The room was silent for two seconds.
Then Benjamin laughed.
Not the polite, social-occasion kind of laugh.
It was a low chuckle that came from deep in his throat, as if he were hearing a child say something naïve.
"Your wings have grown hard?"
He tilted his head to look at me, that smile I'd loathed since childhood hanging at the corner of his mouth.
"Now that you've grown up, you don't recognize your uncle anymore?"
"I'm not disowning you," I said. "I just—"
"Just what?" He interrupted me, leaning forward slightly. "Just think that now you have Liam backing you up, you don't need to watch my face anymore? Or do you think it's time to get back all that money from your parents?"
Those last few words were like a dull knife, stabbing straight into my sore spot.
I didn't speak.
Because he'd guessed right.
Benjamin looked at my silence with satisfaction.
"Elise, Uncle needs to remind you of something."
He stood up, pulled out his phone from his pocket, and turned it over in his hand a couple of times.
"Over these years, Uncle has taken quite a few photos."
My blood instantly ran cold.
"You showering and changing, you sleeping, you coming out of the bathroom with your hair still wet..." He counted them off one by one, his tone like he was listing menu items. "And some that aren't quite suitable for Liam to see."
He walked up to me with his phone.
I could clearly see, in those photos in his hand, the innocent, naked, frightened versions of myself.
"What do you think would happen if these photos got into Liam's hands?"
I stood there motionless.
My fingers slowly clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms, bringing a fine, sharp pain.
Benjamin didn't need my answer.
Because he knew there was only one answer to this question.
Liam would go insane.
Liam would throw me out. He would feel cuckolded—even though those photos were taken secretly by Benjamin, even though nothing had ever happened between Benjamin and me.
Liam wouldn't listen to explanations.
Liam would only look at the photos.
"So," Benjamin reached out, placing his finger on my lips, "be a good, obedient girl, okay?"
His finger forcibly pried open my lips, his finger carrying the disgusting smell of tobacco as it entered my mouth, his fingertip rubbing against my tongue.
His finger moved in and out of my mouth, as if simulating the process of intercourse.
My body was trembling.
Not from cold.
But from that nausea and helplessness that had accompanied me since I was thirteen, bone-deep, sweeping over me once again.
I closed my eyes.
Not in surrender.
But in endurance.
His other hand landed on my shoulder, his thumb rubbing lightly against the side of my neck.
I forcibly suppressed the nausea that was about to make me vomit.
Many images flashed through my mind—that year when I was thirteen, hiding under the bed listening to the sounds of my parents being killed, those nights when Benjamin secretly photographed me and I pretended not to know, every moment of playing the docile and obedient lover in front of Liam.
Each image was like a thorn, piercing different places, but the pain converged in the same location.
Endure it.
Endure a little longer.
I told myself.
Benjamin's finger slid from my neck to my chin, gently lifting my face.
I opened my eyes and looked at his face.
That middle-aged man's face, greasy and sagging, carrying a nauseating sense of satisfaction.
I won't be like this forever.
This thought suddenly became incredibly clear.
So clear it was like a flame, burning quietly and stubbornly in my chest.
Days like this won't last much longer.
Benjamin looked at my docile appearance with satisfaction and chuckled softly.
"That's a good girl."