There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

“I can’t …” he groans. “I can’t do it anymore … you’re gonna break my
fuckin’ kneecaps.”
“You spoke,” Cole’s chilly voice cuts through the video, clear and
unemotional. “That means another hour.”
Randall lets out a strangled sound that is part sob, part snarl of rage.
I’m mesmerized, staring at the screen. Watching this man endure the same
punishment he inflicted on me at seven years old. I know how his kneecaps
feel. There were no marbles in my case, but the wooden floor became
agonizing all on its own as the hours crawled by.
Once, after three hours of punishment, I passed out and hit my head on the
floor. Randall made me finish my time the next day.
I stare at his nasty old back as his hands begin to shake, bound at the wrists
with zip-ties.
A maelstrom of emotions whips through me: guilt, fear, disgust, anxiety …
and also a dreadful spitefulness that whispers, Serves you right, you
motherfucker.
I thought I had moved past this.
Now I’m finding that the rage was always there, deep down inside me.
What I told Cole was true: I hate Randall. I fucking hate him.
He delighted in tormenting me.
When my mother would frustrate him, he’d take it out on me.
He loathed me, but couldn’t leave me alone.
And always, that skin-crawling edge to his attention—his eyes roaming over
my body. His orders to put on the plaid skirt so he could whip me in it.
Even at seven, I knew. He was my stepfather, but his interest was anything
but fatherly.
Randall can’t hold the position anymore. His legs collapse beneath him, and
he rolls over on his side.