Rules for Enduring the Sweenys

Rule #11: Never Admit You're Wrong

“Everybody is gonna know that you belonged to me. They’ll know I brought ya into the world and that I took ya out of it,” he laughed. Bella squirmed, trying to get her hands out of the ropes as he lifted her shirt up. He brought the scalding metal to her skin, laughing heinously as she writhed underneath him. He pressed the metal down harder, drawing a shaky G into her abdomen while she tried to keep from screaming.

“You can scream,” Georgie offered. “No one can hear you out here.” His eyes narrowed and he pushed harder on the glue gun until she screamed louder than expected. “Those idiot brothers of yours will never find you here.” Bella glared at him.

“That’s ‘cause they’re not lookin’,” she spat. Georgie laughed, finishing the G that was beginning to bubble and blister. “Fuck you. No wonder Ma killed herself!”

“Fuckin’ bitch.” He slapped her second degree burn, and her resultant scream seemed to echo off the canyon walls.

Georgie stopped when he got to the second G, so that burned into Bella’s stomach were the letters GEORG, he would finish later. He yawned, setting down the hot glue gun, unaware that Bella was working on untangling her wrists from their binds. Her father watched her closely as he stumbled to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He eyed her as he took a long swig.

“You thirsty Bella?” he asked. She said nothing. She knew that if she opened her mouth for even a second, she wouldn’t be able to contain her cries. She may even resort to begging for her life.

She didn’t tear her gaze from the man who’d spawned her. The man she hated with every fiber of her being. Most people claimed they hated something (food, people, places, objects, animals), but a good majority had never felt the real poison of hatred flowing through their bodies. Not like Bella had. ‘I shoulda killed him when I had the chance!’ her thoughts screamed, but the more rational side of her brain knew that she didn’t want to experience the feeling of taking another human life, even one as vile and deserving as Georgie Wheeler.

The man approached her with a plate of stone cold eight-day-old pizza, and held it to her mouth. “Come on, eat the food Jelly,” he said, feigning a hurt expression. His eyes were watching her with the same hatred and rage that always seemed to linger under the surface. “What? My food ain’t good enough for you, you selfish spoiled slut?”

If Bella wasn’t in such excruciating pain, she would’ve laughed. “Nothing about you is good enough for me.” Georgie growled under his breath and threw the empty glass beer bottle at his daughter, who’d just barely managed to dodge it. She heard the glass shatter as it hit the flimsy wall behind her. He smashed the plate on the ground, falling into one of the temper tantrums she’d been forced to deal with when she’d lived with him. An idea formed in the man’s mind as he looked down at the broken glass at his feet. He grabbed a rather sharp-looking piece and smiled a terrible, decisive smile.

“You know Bella my dear; things could’ve been different, if you’d only listened to me.” He gripped the glass in his palm and stalked forward. She writhed and twisted in her chair as he moved toward her. He thought about plunging the object into her heart, or slitting her perfect throat, but where was the fun in that? Besides, he hadn’t yet finished his name.

“No!” Bella shouted when he brought the glass to her perfectly tanned skin. Next to his second G, he cut a huge, deep I and an E. Blood spilled from the wounds like ruby tears, pooling at the waistband of her pants, soaking into the fabric.

“Not so immune to pain now, huh Bella?” he snickered. Tears were flowing from her eyes and her expression was twisted into a mildly intimidating scowl.