I’m fourteen, I, no!
Breathing hard, I lash out at his revelation, and I throw my head back, connecting with his, and I grunt at the impact as he lets go of me, groaning in pain, and I make a run for it, throwing my door open.
I was asleep, my door was locked, yet my brother's best friend somehow managed to get inside, a friend I have stayed well clear of, always getting a negative vibe from him, that and the fact that he is indeed friends with my brother, who is a mean bully that hates my existence.
I rush out of my room only to bump into a hard chest, and I gasp as I stumble back before locking eyes with my father, who frowns.
“Jasmine?” he asks, confused and, dare I say, concerned?
No, that can’t be right, my dad doesn’t care about me, he never has, his work is his priority.
Bruce groans as he stumbles out of my room, and I quickly move behind my dad as I watch Bruce holding his nose and he lies, “I heard her screaming, and when I went to check on her, she head butted me…”
My dad looks at me sharply, and I instantly shake my head and I open my mouth to deny what he’s saying, to confess what he did, but he grabs my bicep and squeezes tightly, making me wince as he demands, “Get your ass down to my office right now, young lady!”
A small, shocked gasp leaves me as my tears fall, and whatever trust I might have had with my father vanishes.
“Please, may I be excused?” I whisper as I look at my father who lost any little bit of trust I had in him that day, sitting at the head of the table, his suit pristine, his light ginger hair, though slightly greying, perfectly shaped as he likes it.
Before that day, Dad acknowledged me, but after, he only saw me as a nuisance after he confirmed I was indeed to wed Bruce after I turned twenty-one.
It’s not happening, I refuse it.
Bruce laughs, which goes through me, and I begin to tremble, knowing my family won’t keep me safe.
I need to leave this table. I can’t be around Bruce, and I need to be safely tucked away in my room.
Since he tried to rape me last year, if my brother is here, so is he, trying to get me alone, and I always ensure I’m not, just like I ensured to add three deadbolts to my bedroom door plus one that bolts at the top that my mother is not aware of. Bruce, though he is.
“You may leave,” my father agrees, his brows furrowed as he eyes my plate and I stand gently, already feelinghiseyes on me, and I turn and walk away without looking back, trying to regulate my breathing, knowing I have four minutes tops before he tries to follow me and with shaking legs, I know it’ll be difficult to get to the safety of my room.
As soon as I’m in the hallway and hear the door shut behind me, I sprint towards the curved staircase that leads to the east wing, where my room is, but panic hits me when I hear the dining room door open and quick steps follow me causing panic to rush through me along with confusion.
It hasn’t been four minutes, it’s only been one…
My heart pounds as fear fills me and I run faster, my white door at the end coming into view, but the loud footsteps that prove the person is running scare me so much that I nearly trip and only just right myself and I run faster.
Grabbing my door handle when close, I open my door and throw myself inside my room, trying not to fall over before slamming the door behind me, and just as the handle jolts, I get the first deadbolt across my door, and it rattles as I swallow a small cry.
Cursing echoes before the handle is shoved, and a bang rattles, and I know he’s trying to break the deadbolt.
I shove the other two across, then the bolt at the top of the door, and Bruce growls, “Open the fucking door,” just as he lets go of the door handle, and I take my chance and twist the key, locking it completely, then keeping the key turned halfway so he can’t try and dislodge it before a sense of safety fills me.
With my heart racing, I take small steps away from the door, happy that Mama wouldn’t allow me to change rooms when I was ten, and I begged because I wanted the veranda, I wanted the doors open, and to feel the wind.
I spent four days in the basement for that pleading with only one piece of bread and a bottle of water a day, and now I’m grateful I didn’t get it, because those doors are glass, and Bruce, despite my family being here, would break them.
“I swear to fuck, Jassy, when I get my hands on you…” He threatens as another bang echoes before I hear his footsteps fade, and I slowly fall to the floor as my tears fall, and hatred towards my mother, my father, my brother, and every member of staff in this household builds and builds until I feel like I’m suffocating.
Trying to stay away from him, knowing he’ll be here every week if he can, it’s going to kill me, I'm not going to survive from the panic alone.
A sob tears through me, and I curl up into a ball on my bedroom floor, my body shakes, the urge to call Granny and confess everything consuming me. Still, I know I can’t, she’s old, frail, knowing what her son has done, what he has allowed will kill her alone. She’s the only person in my life that I have and I can’t tell Uncle Charms, he’d kill my dad. While I drown in the midst of the devils, while I struggle to see the light at the end of the tunnel, because my mother, my father, they have plans for me, ones I have to obey, I stay quiet like I always have.
As I said, I hate my life.
Chapter 1
Tank – Age Twenty-One
