After the Storm (KGI #8)(58)

“You were very likely right,” Donovan said quietly.

“A lot of good it did me,” Eve choked out, tears still straining at the corners of her eyes.

It was obvious she was holding very tightly to her control and that she could crack at any moment. Donovan was prepared. He’d hold her. Let her cry. Whatever she needed because it wasn’t likely she’d allowed herself to show any weakness in front of her brother and sister. She wouldn’t have wanted to make them more afraid than they already were.

Eve wiped at the corner of her eye, her jaw clenched tight as she took a brief moment to gather her composure before continuing her story.

“After Cammie was born, I was allowed to see them more often than I had in the past. When Walt began paying for my schooling—he chose the college. He chose everything. He even scheduled my classes. I hated it. I hated how he controlled every aspect of my life. He bought me an apartment closer to where he and Mom lived. All utilities were in his name. Everything was. The car I drove. And on the surface it looked like a stepfather being generous. Stepping up and taking on a daughter who wasn’t his responsibility. He liked looking good when it suited his purposes. Everything he did was carefully orchestrated.

“While I wasn’t a real member of the family—and he was always certain to be very clear about my role in the ‘family’—on paper it looked as though he had taken me in as his ‘own.’ Access to my mother and Travis and Cammie was strictly monitored. I was never to just come over. He told me when I could be there, and if I was even a minute late—he dictated the exact times I was to be there—he punished me by making it that much longer before I could see them again. My life was spiraling out of control, or rather becoming more firmly under his control, and I didn’t see a way out. There was too much at stake. I knew it was all wrong, but God, I didn’t know what to do! If I balked, my mother would suffer. I’d be cut out of her life and God only knew what he’d do to her or Travis and Cammie as a result.”

She took a deep breath, strain evident on her brow. Donovan knew that they’d come to the point where things got worse and she was valiantly trying to keep her emotions in check.

“Until then, I truly didn’t believe that Walt was physically abusive. Verbally and emotionally? Yes. I had no illusions that he wasn’t a maniacal control freak and that he manipulated everyone around him. As naïve as it sounds, I’d never suspected his abuse was physical—there had never been evidence. Until Cammie was three years old. My mother changed. I mean not that she was ever the mom who’d raised me, the woman she’d been before she married Walt. She was more subdued. Her marriage to Walt had changed her. She’d lost her spark, the happiness in her eyes, and she rarely smiled like she used to.

“But then I started noticing bruises. Oh, she always had an excuse. Don’t all abused women have ready excuses when they don’t want people to know they’re being abused? But the excuses kept mounting and I knew that he was hurting her physically. I couldn’t stand by and let that happen. I tried to talk to my mother about it, but she immediately shut me down. She’d get this terrified look on her face and beg me never to speak of it again.

“And I couldn’t do that,” she whispered painfully.

She closed her eyes, tears finally seeping down her cheeks, leaving stark trails on her pale face. Donovan wanted to touch her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her while she grieved. But he knew she wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot. There was still a hell of a lot that had happened to get them to the point where they were now. Desperate. Running. Scared out of their minds.

“I went to the police and told them that Walt was abusing my mother. I couldn’t just stand by and allow that monster to hurt my mother. I realized that if he abused her, what was to say he wasn’t also abusing Travis and Cammie?”

Dread took hold of Donovan. “What happened then?”

She lifted her tear-filled gaze to his. “Walt was furious. Of course the police merely came to the house and questioned both my mother and Walt. They both denied any such thing and Walt gave some ridiculous story about how the bruises got there. The police left. After all, they could hardly arrest Walt when my own mother denied he was abusing her.”

Donovan let out a pent-up breath, knowing full well how things worked. He’d seen too many cases in real life. Knew exactly how unfair the justice system was sometimes. If Eve’s mother had refused to press charges, the hands of the police were tied.

“Walt confronted me,” Eve said. “He rarely directly communicated with me, unless it was to issue a dictate. I was largely ignored. Not part of the family. Travis and Cammie weren’t even allowed to say my name in Walt’s home. I was regarded as a servant, like someone in Walt’s employ, and was treated accordingly.”

“Did he hurt you?” Donovan demanded, his voice cold as rage brewed and stirred in his veins.

“He th-threatened me,” she said falteringly. “He was furious. Told me that I better shut up and mind my own business or I would never see my mother again. He threatened to evict me from my apartment, take away all of his financial support. Not that I cared about any of that. One of the conditions of his support, which he basically forced upon me via my mother and her pleas for peace, was that I not work. He didn’t want me to have the means to support myself. He wanted me solidly under his thumb just like my mother and his children. So he told me that not only would he put me out on the streets and withdraw all his financial support, which meant no school as well, but that he’d make certain there was no place that would hire me.