by R. J. Lewis
My father? I tried to focus on his question, but I was in too much pain to respond. It felt like he was practically standing on me. My heart ached in my chest. I could hardly breathe. He was crushing me to the point of dizziness.
“Who is your fucking father?” he repeated, louder than before. “You open your fucking mouth and tell me.”
“I…” I gasped through small breaths, trying to respond. “I…I don’t…know.”
“You don’t know? How could you not know?” He was getting angrier, pressing more of his weight into me. I almost blacked out right there and then.
My hands tried effortlessly to push his foot off me, but it was hopeless. Tears burned my eyes as I fought to answer his question. I didn’t know anything about my father. As far as I was concerned, I never had a father. It was always just Mommy. Only Mommy.
His face reddened with emotion, his words piercing through the air like knives. “You’re going to be the reason my tunnel gets shut down, bringing guys like Milo fucking Dillinger at my door. I should have fucking left you to die with your pathetic, drugged up mom. I should have fucking never dealt with her in the first place! Now I gotta make you disappear so they don’t come raining war on me.”
I whimpered through the pain. He was going to crush his foot into me until I could breathe no more. I struggled for oxygen, but I felt nothing but searing pain and pressure against my heart as he continued slowly to add more weight, staring down at me with dark, angry eyes. My vision went spotty. Pressure filled in my head. I felt the bones in my chest crushing, and my heart thumped wildly.
I wasn’t aware of my surroundings, not enough to notice the figure that approached him from behind. By the time I realized it, it was too late. Bogeyman had been shoved off me, landing somewhere on the ground nearby. I gasped for air, though it pained my chest to breathe. Blood rushed to my head, making me dizzy as I coughed and struggled to move to my side. I felt pain in my heart, and it hurt so bad, I could barely pay attention to the grunts and sound of pounded flesh, but they were there, and I was more aware than ever Bogeyman was getting into a world of hurt. His cries of pain were everywhere, so close and yet I didn’t have the strength to look his way.
“Easy there,” a voice sounded from another direction. “You’ll kill him otherwise. Lay off, man. Lay the fuck off before you…Oh, hell. Well, there we go. Too late now, ain’t it?”
Bogeyman’s cries abruptly stopped. Moments later, someone dropped to my side, and a hand touched my face, gently turning it up. I blinked rapidly, meeting steely eyes. The eyes of the old man from yesterday. His white beard was scruffier and streaked with blood.
“I’m picking you up right now, okay?” he said, wrapping his arms around me. “I fucking knew this shit was real, and you didn’t believe me.”
“That’s not what happened,” retorted the second man. “I said it fucking could have been a fake. Jesus, the way you twist my fuckin’ words.”
He took me down a short walk to a car, all the while comforting me, telling me all was going to be alright.
“You’re going somewhere safe,” he told me. “You’re being rescued. You wait and see. You’re going home. You ain’t a pigeon no more.”
Tucking me into the backseat of the car, he climbed in with me, cradling me to his chest. I shut my eyes as the car started.
“What’re we gonna do with her for a whole night?” growled the second man.
“I’ll take her to a motel.”
“Oh, that’s smart. Walking in there, an old fuckin’ man with a kid her age. That’s great. Just what we need.”
“Suggestions are welcome, asshole.”
They bickered like that a while. With a dizzy, pounding head, I stared down at the man’s arm and traced over a tattoo on his wrist. It looked like a number.
“Eight,” I whispered.
The old man paused. “What’s that, darling?” I pointed to the tattoo, and he chuckled softly, his voice kind now. “That’s not an eight. It’s an eternity symbol. You know what eternity means?”
I thought. “Forever?”
“Yeah, it means a forever that has no beginning or end.”
“Like what?”
“Like what?” he repeated, thinking out loud. “Like…love. Love is forever, isn’t it?”
I thought of Mom and felt my eyes well up. “Do you think if love is forever, you can bring people you love back?”
They went quiet for a few moments. I took that as a no. I wiped my tears. “I wish I went to the same place Mom went. We’d be together right now. Forever.”
The man held me tighter, running a hand over my hair. I buried my face in his chest and cried so hard, it hurt my stomach. “Everything is going to be okay, little monkey,” he said.
“Is Bogeyman gone?” I asked, closing my eyes tight.
“Bogeyman is gone.”
“For eternity?”
He squeezed me tight. “For eternity.”
I took in my first proper breath. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
Promises.
Too many promises had been broken.
I shook my head, searching for sleep as I said, “I don’t believe you.”
…16 years later…
I opened my eyes in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling as the memories slowly left my dream. The clock ticked. My face burned. Tears fell mercilessly down my cheeks, pooling around my neck.
I thought of Eternity Man and shook my head.
“You lied,” I whispered.
Three
Liv
“I’m going to stick the handle end of my blade so far up that cunt tonight,” said Tony, his mouth pressed to my ear.
I cringed at his touch, feeling his lips widen into that sickening smirk he’d been shooting me the last two months, since my father had told me I would finally be wed to this piece of shit. This was my family obligation, after all. When you were the sole child of an underground mobster, and you were born with a vagina, your only contribution in life was to wed some douchebag psychopath to strengthen the alliance.
It was all very fantastic.
“Charming,” I replied dryly, keeping my eyes pinned to a spot on the wall in front of me.
He took a step back, but not enough to ease the pressure inside me. I kept my face wiped clean of emotion, but my lips quivered with disdain. He looked me up and down, his eyes feasting on my bare flesh. I had nothing but a wet towel on, and I wished more than anything I had washed myself sooner.
My cousin Sonja was standing by my bed, clasping tight my wedding dress, looking mortified. His men had broken the door down just a minute ago, taken it clean off the hinges like it was easier than knocking on it. Then he strode in, searching for me. I wasn’t sure why he was surprised and relieved to find me. Did he think I would run? I’d been under a microscope my entire life to know there was no escape. Years of boarding school, bodyguards and barred windows were enough to solidify the reality of my situation: I was a prisoner more than I was a daughter to my father. And now he was letting me go, but not to better circumstances.
Tony circled me then, his finger roaming from my shoulder, to my back, to my other shoulder. His touch was vile. I held my wince in, doing everything in my power to show him I wasn’t afraid. Weakness could be sensed like a scent to these people, and if he knew how fragile I really was inside he would slowly torture me to destruction.
“There will be many people at the chapel,” he said, stopping in front of me, his blue eyes burning into mine. “It would be in your best interest to smile and play the part of a happy bride.”
My heart sped in irritation, and an overwhelming bite of anger flared through me as I replied evenly, “If you wanted someone to play pretend, you should have married an actress.”
In a flash of a second, his eyes went dark with anger. He grabbed me suddenly by the arm, squeezing it tight enough to bruise and pulled me to him. My chest crashed into his, the wind knocked out of me. My legs wobbled, my hea
rt sped faster, but I kept my eyes glued to his, never breaking contact for a single second. He stared down at me, his teeth clenched like a wolf about to snarl.
“You have quite the fucking nerve, don’t you?” he growled, tightening his hold. “Spoiled rich bitch, sold off like a piece of property to the highest bidder. Only I didn’t have to pay a cent for you. He practically gave you away.” His words were painfully true. There was no sugar coating what my father had done, but it had been predictable and inevitable. My life had never been in my own two hands to steer, but goddamn this piece of suit if he thought I’d go down without a fight. My body might have been a tool for their peace treaty, but my tongue was my own to do as I pleased.
“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” I responded, keeping my voice level calm, just to annoy him further.
His nails dug into my flesh. “What luck do I need? I already have you, don’t I?”
He was laughing at me. I could see it in his eyes. He found my imprisonment amusing. My shackles were invisible, but you didn’t have to see them to know they were there.
“We’ll be husband and wife in a matter of hours,” he added, that smirk I hated returning. “And you’ll learn to appreciate your man.”
“When I see a man,” I returned, slowly, “I’ll be sure to let you know. Now unless you want people to see the bruises on my arm, I’d let go, right now.”
Appearances were everything to him. He wouldn’t want the controversy of everyone knowing he hurt his pretty petite wife and had the bruises as proof. As if to prove my point, his other hand twitched by his side. He really would have struck me if he could get away with it. Jesus, my father was wedding me to a monster. There was a raw betrayal in that, worse than the pain in my arm this pig was inflicting on me. This is the price of business, Liv.
He let me go abruptly, and it was victory seeing the lust fade from his eyes, replaced by disdain. Yes, hate me. Hate me until you can’t stand the sight of me.
“Your father may have let you pass with that tongue for this long, but it ends the second your vows are said in that chapel, bride.”
My response came in the shape of a cruel smile. Fuck. Him. His fingers twitched again at the sight of it, but the battle was over. I’d won this round, and my pitiful pride shone in my eyes.
Taking a step closer, he dropped his head to my level. “You know what we do to lesser people?” he asked gently, his voice dropping so only I could hear. “We round them up like little pigs, and then we release them into the wild. We hunt them down like prey, and we take our time. We take our time peeling back their weaknesses. We watch them suffer as we close in on them. With nowhere to go, they suddenly plead for another chance. You know what I love the most about this, bride?” His eyes lit up, and his lips curved upwards. “I love watching the pride flee from their eyes.”
My heart hammered in my chest, disturbed by his words. I fought the flinch in my expression, desperate to look unaffected. Tony gave me one last look, and then he turned his back to me. He left the room taking slow strides. A confident, cocky man with the world at his feet, and I, a soon-to-be trophy on his wall.
There was no door to close behind them; it was hanging on its side against the wall. A big hole in the room he would probably not even have to answer to with management. Suits in Winthrop were a gamble. You didn’t know if they were average joes working an office job, or part of the mob.
I didn’t take a breath in until he was finally gone, and when I did, I felt nauseous and dizzy, his words still running laps around my brain.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” Sonja hissed once they were all gone, her voice coming out breathless.
Instantly, my shoulders sagged, and my smile disappeared. I edged back and collapsed on the bed, overwhelmed with emotions. Raising my hand to my face, I watched myself tremble.
“Liv?”
I couldn’t respond. I was in a panic. I had spent sixteen years of my life sheltered, pampered and kept on a short leash. Now it felt like I was wading into the unknown.
“He’s going to hurt you,” Sonja continued.
Yeah, he was. Stupidly, I just provoked the bear.
“Why do you never think, Olivia? You and that pride!”
“I wasn’t going to cower to him,” I countered, tossing my glare her way. “I’ll never go down that easy, Sonja.”
She just shook her blonde head, looking disappointed. “Then you don’t have a chance at this life.”
I blinked back tears and nodded. She was right, but I knew that already. My stepmother number three wasn’t as headstrong as me, but like me she’d been wed out of force. My father slowly destroyed her, and she didn’t last very long in this world before death wrapped its arms around her. Alcohol and pills will do that to you.
I wondered if that was my destiny.
I couldn’t deny the allure of a few magic pills. To feel numb in this world would be a blessing.
As if sensing my perilous thoughts, Sonja sat down beside me and wrapped an arm around me, consoling me. “You can do this,” she told me, sympathetically. “You’re the strongest girl I know.”
I scoffed and looked at her dubiously. “If I’m the strongest girl you know, I feel sad for you.”
I was no stronger than a monkey at the zoo. I could see the outside world, but I would never come to know it. Not like I used to. But even that felt like a lifetime ago. I was pruned of all the stingers I’d developed at an early childhood to go back out there and take the thorns. I wouldn’t know a thing about survival.
I stood up on shaky legs and went to the window. I watched people going about their lives, a wave of deja vu flooding me. I was back there again, isolated, and forced to stare down at freedom, feeling more and more envious. Lavish me all you want with dresses and jewellery, but I would trade it all up for the street life in a heartbeat.
I thought of the old man, of that day he took me away, and I felt resentment bubble within me.
“You’ll have to back down, Liv,” Sonja explained soothingly. “This isn’t like the streets. To survive this life, you have to play by the rules.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and lifted my chin defiantly. “He’ll have to break me first.”
My wedding dress was an absolute atrocity. Sonja had hired some famous wedding designer whose lips had been so swollen from a recent Botox injection I couldn’t understand a single word she’d spoken at our first meeting. I’d never understood fashion, really. If it looked good I wore it. But if it looked like a piece of monstrosity, the point of it was lost to me.
Just like now.
This thing weighed heavy on me, especially the corset top, thick, beaded and lacy. My breasts were pushed up, my nipples harshly pressed against the material. While the top of my body was pressed up tight like a sausage, the dress exploded past the hips in a tornado of puffiness, much like a ball gown dress but not with the same flow or elegance. I’d worn some crazy dresses in the past, but nothing as drastically puffy and layered as this. Even though my arms were bare, my whole body was hot. And, to my horror, there was a white satin bow as big as my face attached to my hip.
This was medieval, and I looked fucking comical.
“Try to smile,” Sonja noted. “You may hate the dress, but you’re pulling it off.”
“I feel happy to hear that,” I replied, dryly. “Ten grand for a piece of white fabric, after all.”
“You made no complaints when she drew it up for you.”
“Tony was the one who approved it in the end. Not me. And from memory, this bow wasn’t here.”
She gave the dress another quick look over. “I wonder if he was trying to be cruel.”
“No wondering required in that.”
Tony was known for being a brute. I was sure this was all on him. I had a reputation for being snarky. Maybe this was his way of humiliating me into silence.
Somewhere in the middle of her dressing me, the photographer showed up, her white smile
blinding. Hired last second because the original had fallen suddenly ill, she didn’t know the situation. As far as she was concerned, I was just another stressed out bride about to go down the aisle to the man of my dreams.. She gave the door a strange look, but never mentioned it.
“I was told to bring this up from the front desk,” she said, handing over a bottle of expensive champagne to Sonja with a warm smile.
Sonja took it, looking almost relieved at the sight of it. “Thank God.”
“Who’s it from?” I wondered.
“Shane. I asked him to get one. You know, in case…”
In case I lost my shit.
Shane was my bodyguard, of course absent when I needed him more this morning after Tony’s abrupt visit. It wasn’t a surprise, because Shane knew his place, and it was going to be under Tony’s command soon enough.
Sonja waved the bottle in the air and gave me a questionable look. I nodded, knowing exactly the question behind those eyes. She immediately ran to the kitchenette and fetched two wine glasses. The pop of the champagne lid followed a minute later.
“Shall I get this started?” the photographer asked when Sonja returned, handing me a glass of bubbly goodness.
“Go for it,” she answered for me. “And try to make our bride look happy.”
The photographer stood close to me, her massive camera covering half her face, the scent of her citrusy-scented hairspray assaulting my nostrils. She started taking pictures. Hot burning anger travelled to my face. I had the urge to shove the camera out of sight. It was capturing moments I didn’t want to reflect on. Moments I didn’t want to ever remember again. Everywhere I turned, the lens was in my face, a prison of click-clicks and flashing light. Now I didn’t just feel constricted in my dress, but in this room too.
Things escalated rapidly after that, and I refused to part with my champagne. I saw flashes all around me. So, I sipped. Heard the arrival of the make-up artist. So, I sipped some more. Felt Sonja tugging me down on a chair. Sip, guzzle, guzzle. Hands directed my head up. Creams were rubbed into my skin. Fake eyelashes were placed. Layers of foundation, mascara and beauty products came next. Guzzle, guzzle, guzzle. Refill. They made me look like a life-sized Barbie doll, and nothing like the tunnel girl from my past.