Page 38 of Blissful Devotion

No, I think it’s best I don’t say anything at all.

My skin crawls where his hand touches the bare skin of my arm, but there’s no way to stop it.

I’ll just need a nice hot shower later and to scrub off a few layers of skin…

We make it to the room that’s been dubbed ‌mine, and I nearly cheer when he sets me down before I scurry away.

“Would you like me to run you a bath?”

“NO!” I smack a hand over my mouth in horror at how loud I’d screamed that. I heard the tightness in his question, knew it was in my best interest to agree, but the second I opened my mouth, it’s as if I was no longer in control.

I hear him coming, but I can't react fast enough—not that there's much I could do, but I probably should have tried. His hand wraps around my arm, and he tugs me toward him hard enough that I stumble, but he’s so close it would be impossible for me to fall.

His eyes are hard, and it’s impossible to miss the fury that burns in them as he grips my face hard enough that my teeth cut into the sides of my cheeks painfully as he crowds me.

“You will be mine, or you will be nobodies. Remember that as you wait for them. You think I don't see what you're doing. They won’t come for you. Nobody will, and if they do, I’ll kill them. You belong to me now, and you will do well to remember that.”

He shoves me away from him, his lips pulling down in disgust as I fall back onto the bed with a choked sob, and I do the only thing I can think to do.

Curl up in a ball and cry until the familiar darkness comes and saves me from my pathetic sobs.

13 Days without Kat

Father still hasn't come down despite days of us digging and planning and doing everything we can to find Kat.

At first, I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. He drank a lot, probably needed to sleep it off, and there's apparently some trauma there, but I went to knock earlier, and I’m pretty sure I could smell the whisky through the door.

At that moment, I didn’t have time to dwell on it because we had things to discuss, but now…

I rap my knuckles hard on the door, knowing he will hear me.

Ruby whines and presses her nose to my leg. She’s been up here the last few nights and I probably should have realized something was wrong sooner.

“Open the door!” I shout, unconcerned about waking anyone up. We all only just retired to our rooms, so I know nobody’s asleep yet.

It takes longer than it should, but I hear him moving around, so I wait only to be disgusted by the man who opens the door.

“No need to shout,” he says, or attempts to say. His words come out slurred as he leans heavily on the door in a way that tells me he’s most definitely spent the day looking for the bottom of the bottle.

He looks messy, his face scruffy in more than just a dusting of 5 o'clock shadow, his clothes wrinkled as if he slept in them. I’m not positive, but I think that’s the same button-up he wore when I last saw him. Add in his bloodshot eyes and his inability to stand on his own, and it’s pretty clear he’s plastered.

I’ve seen my father drink often, but never drunk, not like this.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he tries to wave me off and almost falls over when he lets go of the door.

My father is far from perfect, but I’ve always been proud of him as a man. He and Uncle Nathan built their company, gave us this life, and did so on their own.

When Nonna and Nonno came to this country, they started from nothing; while they built a stable life for themselves, our fathers dreamt of more, and they made it happen.

Together.

Father always had his demons, but he never shared them. I respected that, figuring he didn’t want them to have any part in his life now.

But despite his past, he never gave up…

At least not until now, that is, because as much as I hate to admit it, this feels a lot like that.