The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 317

A rough hand, reeking of stale tobacco, clamped over her mouth and nose from behind. She was lifted off her feet and thrown onto a small single bed.

Her head spun from the impact. She heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone.

Click.

“Where’s the smokes? The booze? I told you to get them. Why did you come back empty-handed?”

That voice… No, it couldn’t be.

He was dead.

“I raised you for nothing! You’re useless!”

But the voice was right behind her, growing more furious by the second.

“Answer me! Cat got your tongue?”

It was him. It was really him.

A violent shiver racked Penelope’s body. She frantically looked around, searching for a place to hide.

Then she saw her—a little girl in a white dress, huddled in the corner by the head of the bed, trembling with fear.

“You… you didn’t give me any money. The store owner wouldn’t let me have any more on credit…” the girl whispered, her voice barely a buzz.

But her quiet words ignited the man’s rage. “Money, money, money! That’s all you and your mother ever talk about!”

A large man in a dirty undershirt lunged forward, raising his belt high and bringing it down on the little girl. She was too terrified to move.

Don’t hit her! You can’t hit her!

Penelope’s eyes burned red. She wanted to rush over, to shield the little girl, but she was frozen in place, forced to watch as the leather strap struck her small body.

Ugh! The girl let out a muffled grunt but didn’t dare to cry out.

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