She screams out, and that’s the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. I push her to fall on the floor, then get on top of her. I’m not even looking where I’m hitting her, or if I’m using any right technique. Hell, I can’t fight to save a life. But there’s so much anger inside of me, and no matter how much she’s trying to fight me off, I managed to catch her by surprise, and she’s struggling to push me away.
“You dumb cunt,” I scream in her face, grabbing her by the hair on each side of her head, and smashing it against the tiled floor. “You never should’ve made me an enemy. I promise you, I’ll ruin your fucking life, and I’ll make sure you get what you deserve.”
“Sophia, wait—”
Her begging only eggs me on more. I can’t stop myself from hitting her everywhere my fists can reach, even if I wanted to. Her face is bloody, and there’s a bruise already forming on her eye, cheek, and I managed to split her lip.
But before I can land the finishing blow, I find myself roughly pulled back. I try to fight it off, but the familiar cologne of my older brother makes me pause. Aria steps forward, ready to intervene if needed, and Grace follows suit.
“Let me go! The cunt deserves it!”
“No one deserves this,” Sawyer hisses in my ear. He only lets me down when we’re a couple of feet away from Astrid’s lying body. He looks at me with so much fury, and something I can’t quite place.
“But—”
“Shut the fuck up, Sophia.”
The anger in his voice catches me off guard, but it’s nothing to the shock I experience when he turns on his heel, and walks right where Astrid is. He bends down, picking her up in his arms.
My heart threatens to burst, half from pain, half from pure fucking confusion.
Because it might be only for a split second, but that split second is enough for me to see that he isn’t looking at Astrid with the gaze of a person who’s simply worried about her wellbeing after I just beat her to the pulp.
No, he’s looking at her the same way Dad looks at Mom.
And the realization crushes me to the bone.
TWENTY-SIX
The silkrobe is draped over my shoulders, the coldness from the open window seeping into my body. I take a big drag of the cigarette, sitting on the comfortable armchair, with a tank top andshorts under the robe, and a soft blanket thrown over my bottom body.
The moon’s high up in the sky, and there’s not a single dark cloud in sight. The nicotine fills my lungs, and it helps me relax. I swirl the wine in the glass before taking a big sip.
It’s just past four in the morning, and the girls are asleep either in my bedroom or Avalon’s. I’m all alone in the living room, sipping on my wine, smoking, and waiting.
Mom called for our family’s doctor to look at my knuckles the moment we returned to the manor. I don’t even want to remember my parents’ reprimanding. Of course, they found out about what went down and why, and we’ll be having a family meeting tomorrow to discuss it. The look of disappointment on their faces told me everything I needed to know, though.
My knuckles will be fine. The doctor cleaned them and wrapped them up. They ache, but the pain is on the dull side, so I’m not too worried. I am, however, worried about scarring. It better not fucking scar.
The door of the living room opens softly, and with nothing but a lamp in the corner of the room to give the space some lighting. Slowly, I turn around, taking another drag of the cigarette.
Sawyer stands on the threshold, his hair and shirt disheveled. He looks like he aged ten years in a span of a single night, and he looks right at me, with tired eyes, and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
The smile, however, falls from his face when he sees the look on mine, and the bandaged knuckles.
“Sophia…”
Sawyer steps forward, and as I raise the glass to my lips, he halts. He doesn’t move an inch, and I don’t know whether to break the glass on his head or scream at him.
“Leave.”
“No,” he steps forward. “We need to talk.”
I tilt my head to the side. “About what, exactly?”
“She’s in the hospital, Sophia. Her nose is broken, and you knocked a tooth out.”
“Did I ask?”
