Settling down on his chest, I curled into his warmth, knowing I was safe as long as he was knocked out. Closing my eyes, I promised myself I would only sleep like this until Cezar returned.
16
NICU
The air hung thick, pressing against every surface. The strength of her fear pierced the sanctity of my domicile. Tainted the air with her presence, her state of being. Instinctually, I run my hand over every surface, smoothing down the sheets, trying to replace the vibrant emotions she left behind. The place I had crafted perfectly, which made me feel at ease, was ruined.Why did I let her off so easily?
That question haunted me all night. I wasn’t the type to let even a sliver of disrespect slide.
In our world, the second you let someone do that to you, it is a sign of weakness, and weakness is not to be tolerated, especially in our household. It was to be torn out, stomped on, shredded before your eyes. At that point, you are given a choice: be made anew or exterminated and thrown away like trash. Men, women, children—we were all the same in my father’s eyes. Just tools to be sharpened or discarded. If those tools were not sharp and useful, they were meaningless, worse than death. You were left alive for his amusement… until they were broken.
I closed my eyes, exhaled sharply, and reached for my phone. Morning already. Running my hands over my face, I swallowed down my groan of exhaustion. Another weakness was that I didn't need to see the light of day. Her face, pinched and snarled like an animal, flashed in my head.
Glancing at the spot underneath my desk, I thought about that woman crouched under the table. It wasn't the danger or a deranged woman that called me to act, to step in, no. It was those eyes filled with terror, acceptance, and desperation. Eyes that pulled me back to the past, reminding me of those same eyes staring back at me before I crushed those paltry expectations they held onto. It was the only thing to survive.
Survive. That was what I saw in her hunched-over form, gripping down my pen like it was a knife, her only way to defend herself. While fear and terror were overwhelmingly present, I caught onto a subtle yet fierce will to survive. The fight in her surprised me, calling me to her like a moth to a flame.
Before I knew what was happening, I told my brother to leave and slowly approached her. Bending down at the knees, I watched her body shake, her wild waves covering most of her face, but those golden brown eyes shined with strength. While her body curled away to hide, to be invisible, those eyes held onto a sliver of hope that someone might help her, save her.
Staring at her transported me back to when I hid under my bed, desperate to get away from him, to escape the beatings I knew he was planning to give me. The same trembling body, the same sliver of hope, ran through me as my mother stood up to him in my bedroom, telling him I wasn't there.
Closing my eyes, I can still smell her rose perfume as she runs to lock the door. The pounding of his fists on the door before it cracked open. The sound of them yelling at each other even though my hands clasped over my ears, squeezing my eyes tight until I felt a thud.
My father was straddling my mother, ruby red liquid already running down her face as she looked at me under the bed, mouthing my name. My fingers curled into the carpet so hard I thought it would rip underneath my hands. Her eyes watered, boring into mine, telling me a thousand words in seconds.Stay safe. I’m sorry. Be strong. I’m sorry. I love you.
I started to crawl towards her, but she shook her head, looking at me as she yelled to stop, blood dripping out the side, and I paused. His laugh, low and cruel, echoed in the room before his fists crashed into her face—a whirlwind of violence. Twitching at each crack of bones, bile rising at each splatter of her blood on the floor. He wasn't done until her body stopped twitching, the front of him looking like he bathed in blood.
He paused, looked down at her, and sighed heavily, mumbling, “I told you, never defy me.” The heaviness of his steps walking away bounced around in my skull as my soul cracked in two. Time went by; two of my father's men came by and took away my mother's body, and maids came and cleaned the room of all the blood, all while silent tears fell from my cheeks as I cowered underneath the bed.
It wasn't until a set of light steps entered the room that I realized I hadn't left the underbelly of the bed in a while, and no one had come to look for me either. Their hushed tones talked about how their mothers told them not to come to this side of the house; it wasn't safe.
I wanted to tell them they were right, to leave and not get caught byhim, but my throat was so raspy that no noise came out. I watched their steps going around the room, talking about how they were told they had an older brother and thought they could finally meet him. This had to be Ion and Cezar, the two boys I had only seen once when they were born. Father liked to keep us in separate wings, so we didn't see much of each other except in passing.
Unlike the adults, who only did their jobs and left, these boys had got on their knees, the first to look under the bed. “There you are,” Ion said, “Come on.” Both boys outstretched their hands toward me, grunting to reach me with their small hands.
Initially, I was hesitant, but I grabbed their hands, and they helped me out. Cezar smiled brightly at me, digging in his pocket before offering me a piece of candy. “You look hungry. Eat this first, and we can sneak into the kitchen next.”
From then on, we would sneak into each other's wings, play, and laugh. Father never bothered to visit us, and we kept out of his way… that was until my ninth birthday. That day, he told us we would start training for the family business. From that day forward, a sea of horrors and trials made us stronger and vanquished our weaknesses. To see if we could survive.
I shook off the past and climbed out of bed. No wrinkles. I smoothed the sheets, plumped the pillows, and centered them to the fold of the blanket. Perfect.
Checking my phone for any communication from my father, my hand clenched around the device when I found nothing. No call, text, email, or even a word from any of his subordinates. His message was clear: focus on what you are doing, not on anything else.
Prickles formed in the back of my head, the urge to chuck the phone at the wall riding me so hard my arm shook, but I took a breath and forced myself to calm down. He knew I could call my connections here in the States to get us a private jet back home without him, but he knew that I also knew the consequences of moving without his permission.
Once we got home, we would be carted to the house like criminals, all of us facing a punishment ten times worse than the crime, and it wouldn’t be just me suffering. He would make sure I had to watch Ion’s and Cezar’s punishment. He would call it dissension in the ranks and make a public show of punishing his children to remind his men to stay in line. If he could do this to his children, he would do worse for them.
No, I had to play this like he wanted.
Putting the phone down, I turned on the shower, and that gnawing itch crawled up my spine. Something was off. I scanned my pristine bathroom.What could possibly… I saw it. Moving my phone to perfectly vertical, the scratchy feeling disappeared, and I stepped into the shower.
Turning up the heat to scolding, I sighed as the wet, fiery trails went down my back. My body soaked up the piping hot rhythmic pounding, forcing me to focus on those hot trails instead of the problems that tried to plague me. The water helped me reset to clear my mind of the mission, my father, and the past. Letting it all go and fall down the drain.
Something caught on my foot, and I saw a long, wild, dark strand of hair trying to follow the water down the drain. Bending over, I picked that hair up with two fingers. The reminder was that she was in my space just the day before showering, needing the same reset I did.
Visions of water rolling down her soft, sun-kissed skin filled my head. Her hair is dark, and her wavy tresses fall down the curve of her back. She looked over her shoulder at me with those seductive honey-brown eyes, calling me to touch and taste.
My cock rose to the attention, wanting that vision that assaulted my mind without consent. There was nothing special about the woman. Yes, she was attractive, but so were a million other women, yet something about her called to my blood. Pulsing through my veins with the same word over and over again. Mine.
