Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 247

Marcia was finally, truly afraid.

She couldn’t go back to that little town—not ever. If she went back, her father would beat her and her mom to death. She wanted to go to school, to learn, to make real money, to give her mom a better life.

Silent tears slid down her cheeks as she knelt and began to massage Cecilia’s feet.

She’d never done this before, didn’t know how. Her chest ached terribly from the fresh burn, and fear gnawed at her. She tried to hold back her sobs, biting her lip so hard it nearly bled, but the tears kept coming, slipping down her face. Before she could wipe them away, a few splashed onto Cecilia’s feet.

Without warning, a sharp kick crashed into Marcia’s chest—right where she’d been burned.

“Ah—!” The pain forced a cry from her lips.

“You filthy brat! Your dirty tears are all over my feet!” Cecilia screeched. “You little wretch! You and your mother are both trash!”

Agony lanced through Marcia’s chest, but she didn’t dare cry out again. She curled up on the floor, clutching the burning spot.

“What are you playing at? Get up! Come here, now!” Cecilia shrilled, her voice slicing through the air.

Just as Marcia braced herself to swallow the pain and push herself upright, the door lock rattled. Someone was coming home.

Cecilia was the first to notice—Fallon had returned.

Fallon looked surprised to see Cecilia, expecting Theodore to be home instead. But then she caught sight of her daughter huddled on the floor.

Worried that she’d make her mother anxious, Marcia scrambled to her feet and tried to sound normal. “Hi, Mom.”

“What happened to you, Marcia?” Fallon’s eyes narrowed at Cecilia—she’d never liked the woman. But Cecilia was just the housekeeper, and with Emma gone, Fallon had no real authority here. She tried to ignore her.

Holding back her tears, Fallon carried Marcia to the bedroom and gently dabbed burn ointment onto the wound. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have left you alone. Let’s go to the hospital, okay?”

She swept Marcia into her arms and headed for the door.

Behind her, Cecilia kept shouting, “Hey, Fallon! Can’t even play maid right, can you? When your employers come home, you don’t even greet them? You’re worse than a useless mutt!”

Fallon shot her a long, cold look but said nothing, continuing toward the entryway.

She was just about to open the front door when it swung open from the outside.

Theodore was home.