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“Fuck. You,” I respond, earning myself a kick in the ribs. I can feel one snap, but it’s not the first time he’s done this. I recovered then, and I’ll recover now. I need to bide some time until Aris and the others can get here and end my dad once and for all.
“You're weak, Daughter. Always have been. It's disgusting, really. I wanted to give you away back then, sell you to the highest bidder but your mom wouldn't have it. For some reason, she thought you were gonna be worth something when you got older. Lucinda thought we'd get financial compensation for putting up with you for eighteen fucking years. But I knew better. I knew in my gut from the moment of your conception that you were worthless. Now, playtime is over. It’s time for you to come to the hole we’ve been living in and sign the papers giving me access to what’s mine.”
“It was never yours,” I argue. “That money was always intended for Berk and me. Our grandparents knew you were slimeballs who depend on everyone else to do your dirty work for you.”
“You little bitch!” he howls. Something dark and sinister inside of him snaps, coming to the forefront. I’ve seen him irate before, but nothing on this scale. His face contorts into a feature I’ve never seen from him before which has my flight instincts kicking into high gear. But first, I have to fight in order to flee.
Swinging my legs around, I roll onto my back and kick my legs out. The instep of my foot hits him directly behind the kneecap, causing it to buckle and him to fall backward. As soon as his ass makes contact with the cement ground, I pull back my leg and kick his nuts, rendering him useless, squalling on the ground with tears falling down his face. I didn't hold back—I used every ounce of strength I had inside of me when I struck.
The pounding of feet as they charge at me has me moving. I can't run as fast as I normally do with my ribs aching, but I give it all of my might. Ducking and weaving was easier to do in my head than it is in real life. I forgot how much broken or fractured ribs hurt. Especially when you’re trying to escape from scum like these men my dad has associated himself with.
When the draw gate is in my line of sight, I think I've succeeded in my mission, but quickly that thought goes away when I'm tackled to the ground. My head bounces off the pavement, and the pain that shoots through my brain has me hurling. I’m pretty sure I have a concussion from how hard the hit to the cement slab was. And my response to it solidifies that thought as I vomit until there’s nothing but bile left in my belly.
“Don't kill her!” my dad shouts from his crouched position. “That job is mine and we can't dispose of her until after she signs those documents.”
He's made that same exact threat to me many times in the past, but this time, I think he really means it. It’s not a threat, it’sa promise. He’s going to kill me once my signature is on that dotted line.
I’m not sure how I come up with the response I do with the way my mind is fuzzy, but I tell him, “Even then you can’t kill me. I have to go with you to the courthouse and show my identification and swear before a judge that I’m handing over the funds.”
The last order I hear my dad say before darkness consumes me is, “Put her in the trunk. It's time to play, gentlemen.”
My eyelids feel like they've been affixed to one another. I can't open them. They’re plastered by the remnants of my sleep. I’m still tired and decide to rest a little longer. Did I drink a bottle of wine by myself last night? The only time I’ve felt this way is when I’m suffering from a serious hangover. But I can hear movement around me. The sound of a chair creaking as someone sits in it has me fighting for alertness.
I don’t have any chairs in my bedroom that squeak like that. Where am I? That question needs to be answered so I peel my eyes open and jump back when my dad’s nose is practically touching mine.
Then the floodgates open and everything plays back in my mind like it’s on a reel.
Feeling brave, I tell him, “I’m not signing shit. Kill me because I’ll never give you what you want.”
“Then I’ll go grab your brother and we’ll have ourselves a family reunion,” he says, trying to goad me.
But he won’t this time because I know Berk is untouchable. He’ll be locked down until Aris has me back in his arms. I laugh, a full belly giggle escapes me as I look him dead in the eyes and inform him, “You’ll never get your hands on him. He’s so well protected that the President himself wouldn’t be able to get near him.”
I watch, and as if it’s in slow motion, my dad’s arm arcs as he slaps me in the same area he did in the library’s garage. Pain soars through me, but I don’t let it consume me, instead, I let it remind me that I’m alive.
“Enough of this!” my mother yells, the sound of her heels clacking as she walks to us echoes through the walls of this warehouse. As I wait for her arrival, I scan the area to get a better idea of where I am. It’s blatantly obvious that it’s been abandoned by its previous owner. The only lights in here are that of candles and gas lamps. It’s sparsely furnished. A few broken down, mismatched couches and La-z-boys are in the center of the room.
I’m tied to a chair that’s situated around a kitchen table that’s seen better days. When I see with my own eyes how far they've fallen, a smile graces my face. “Love what you've done with the place.”
“Don't be snarky,” my mom chides, smacking me on the back of my head causing stars to dance behind my lids. “It’s unbecoming of a lady.”
Her declaration has me snorting. She may have had the population fooled once upon a time, but I’ve always seen her for who she is—a monster.
“I’m not being snarky, Mother. I’m being honest and realistic,” I counter. “Neither one of you will be touching Berkley. That’sa guarandamntee. You and father are smart, educated people, which is why I don’t understand why you’ve fallen to the point that you have. Help me understand why you’d rather steal from your children than be upstanding citizens and use the education my grandparents provided for you. You could’ve easily rebuilt another empire. It may not have been in this state, but you could’ve picked somewhere well populated and started fresh.”
“And who was going to pay for that transition? You? You hate us and would never have helped us if we asked,” she states.
Shaking my head, I scoff. “But you’ll never know because you didn’t even try. If you’d been sincere and wanted to rebuild your lives away from Berk and me, I would’ve happily helped once we got our inheritance. Anything to get you away from us.”
“Is that right?” she laughs. “Pity you’re not sincere or I would take you up on that.”
“How do you know I’m not being honest with you right now?” I ask, schooling my face so she can’t see the contempt I feel for her and my sperm donor.
“If I had something to hold over your head, I’d be inclined to believe you. However, we let your little friend go and Berk is out of reach, as you’ve so kindly reminded us. So our only alternative here is to take everything from you both,” she concedes. “Willing or not.”
“Not,” I lash out, narrowing my eyes at her. “And a quick reminder, if I’m dead, it all goes into an estate for Berk. If anything happens to him, I’ve already donated it to family and friends. The paperwork’s already been signed, sealed, and delivered. You’d have to kill over two hundred people to get even a scrap of what we’re getting.”
A gleeful feeling washes over me as I see the horror wash over both of my parents’ faces. Deciding that’s not enough to deter them from punishing me or killing me, I decide to go in for the kill.
