The Tamed and Broken

Three months after my return, Tammy Bates won the title at the National Boxing Tournament.

At the celebration party, Dylan Crewe stared at a picture of Tammy holding the trophy high when his eyes caught me in the corner of the frame.

He approached me, his tone of voice carrying a barely detectable quiver.

“Sarah, why didn’t you huddle closer to Tammy for a photo when she took the win?”

Without lifting my chin, I replied in a flat voice.

“I’m not worthy, sir.”

Dylan’s gaze with furrowed brows scanned my face keenly for a hint of resentment or pretense.

Not giving him a chance, I put my focus on scrubbing the already shiny floor.

Tammy strutted from the entrance, feeling as smug as ever.

“Look at my new watch, Dylan. Does it suit me?”

Dylan took a glance at me.

I kept my head down, and my voice was laced with the right amount of flattery.

“You have excellent taste, ma’am.”

Dylan’s scowl deepened.

I didn’t have time for Dylan’s skepticism as the stewing broth of premium meat for the Doberman was still on the stove.

Turning on my heel, I carefully carried out the scalding pot.

Tammy planted her bottom on the sofa, her right hand reaching into Dylan’s pants.

Dylan looked at her with so much love in his eyes, but his gaze turned icy the moment he turned to me.

With great caution, I poured the broth into Dobie’s food bowl and blew on the liquid to cool it down.

Tammy looked over as if she had just noticed me, her voice dripping with feigned charity.

“Sarah, take a break and sit once you’re done.”

Dylan chimed in for once and set a place for me at the table.

“You’ve done well looking after Tammy and Dobie.”

With downcast eyes, I smiled humbly.

“It’s an honor of mine to serve Ma’am and Dobie. It’s no trouble at all.”

Smiling gleefully, Tammy rubbed Dylan on the back.

“Sarah really knows her place, Dylan. It’s about time you give her a raise.”

I listened with respect, my mind wandering to the time Dylan tossed me his unwanted T-shirt right under Tammy’s nose.

That night, Dobie snapped and mauled me, leaving me covered in blood.

Even to this day, those wounds throbbed with pain.

I knew that this was Tammy’s way of keeping me in line. It was a brutal reminder of where I stood in the house.

After dinner, Tammy carried out her usual training. She preferred a human punching bag, landing each shot with everything she got.

I strapped on my plain protective gear and climbed into the ring.

“Wham! Bam!”

Each powerful punch cut through the air before landing on my stomach, ribs, and face.

Gritting my teeth, I took the blows in silence. I scrambled back to my feet, getting into position to brace for more every time I was knocked down.

Sweat mixed with blood ran down my face, blurring my vision.

Sitting outside the ring, Dylan sipped on a glass of red wine with grace and looked up indifferently on occasion.

Tammy stopped to catch her breath once I was beaten to a pulp in a corner, unable to get up on my feet. Tammy gave Dylan a look of triumph.

“How did I do today, Dylan?”

Not giving Tammy the time of day for once, Dylan drew close to the ring and watched as I propped myself up with much difficulty.

“Have you lost your mind, Sarah? Can’t you call for a stop if you’re hurting?”