by Pamela Ann
He threw me a smug look with a condescending smile, as if I was dumb enough not to figure it out. “The money I asked you to get from Hugo Xavier.”
“I don’t ever intend to, nor will I ever give you another cent, Father,” I readily lashed out, malevolent. “You have profited enough by selling your own daughter! What’s next, huh? Are you planning to sell Yannis, too?”
None of my words seemed to crack his cool, nonchalant demeanor. “If that’s what it takes to get my money, then, yeah, of course. Don’t be stupid, child.”
I was fuming and full of rioting emotions, yet the damning old man simply appeared bored, as if I wasn’t worthy of his attention or to be even conversed with.
“What makes you think you deserve a dime of someone’s money?” Furious, I spat at him, ready to engage in battle if need be. “Do I look like I’m an ATM machine that simply dispenses cash because I was unfortunately born into this world, fathered by the likes of you?”
He evoked a cruel, hair-raising laugh. “Look at you. Just because you had a man like Hugo Xavier panting in between your thighs, you feel as if you have power, as if you’re someone of importance. Well, guess what, dearest child? You’re just another pussy to him. Once he gets his fill—and trust my word on it, he will—there won’t be enough skill your vagina can produce to keep him. When the day comes that he wants you out of his life, he’ll discard you like the rest of them before you.”
I had no illusions about where I stood in Hugo’s life, but his words—though laced with scorn and loathing—came with some truth. I wasn’t a fool, believing my relationship with Hugo would have a future, but hearing it from my father’s lips made it somewhat sordid, cheap, and truly vile.
“Don’t be a stupid whore,” he raged on.
My tears weren’t far behind. As much as I hated to crack my stance before him, the need for him to know what he had done to me won out.
“I was stupid to think that, if I did your bidding, you’d leave me be. Call me all the names you want, but a whore, I certainly am not.”
I was my own woman. If I wanted Hugo, I didn’t need him to pay me to be his. I was already his before I had even realized it. However, my father didn’t need to profit from my emotional and physical attachment with Hugo. He had a piece of it in the very beginning, and that was the first and the last. No more.
“You’re nothing but half a man with no resources, so you have to use your children to achieve anything. No one respects you. No one loves you. No one cares if you die tomorrow. In fact, we’d all rejoice if you dropped dead on the floor. Don’t you get it? No one fucking cares about you and your absurd demands or threats.”
“If you choose not to be of use to me, you’re better off dead!” he viciously declared before I saw him purposely charge at me.
I swiftly felt the heavy-handed, mind numbingly harsh slap on the side of my head, making my vision spin. Then his cold eyes turned into something much more chilling, something harrowing, and my resolve ultimately thawed at the very sight.
Unexpectedly, I felt his claw-like hand dig into my skin, wrapping his boney talons around my dainty neck as if ready to snap it. His grip was solid as he partially started to squeeze, purposely blocking my air passage.
I was gagging, heaving for air, but the evil man simply laughed at my struggle. For the first time, I feared for my life.
“No! Get your hands off of her!” Yannis’s voice boomed from somewhere in the room as I tried to yank my father’s hand off me. My vision started to slowly diminish, my entire being fighting to live as I started to see shimmering stars blur before my eyes.
A strangled sound, a short-lived gasp, and then my world spun into silence.
Before it welcomed me into its embrace, I remembered thinking Yannis shouldn’t have placed himself in the line of fire, that saving me could have cost him the same fate as myself.
I woke up sometime that night, blessed with a head-splitting migraine and a throat drier than a desert summer. With my eyes squinting, trying to accommodate the soft lighting in the room, I hadn’t expected to find my little brother asleep at the foot of my bed. My throat ached, but the very sight of him with a bruise on the side of his cheek made my heart hurt even harder. My father could hurt me as much as he wanted just as long as he kept Yannis out of it. I simply didn’t want him living this nightmare the way I had endured it for so long.
At the sight of him so young and with so much life ahead of him, I vowed never to touch the money Hugo had given me. I would put it to good use. I would make sure Yannis never had to come back here to Athens to deal with my father and his vicious tendencies because he couldn’t get his way with his children.
I could sacrifice a lot of things for the sake of my pride, but that wasn’t one of them. Yannis was too important to me to let my pride get in the way. Not only that, but I would sleep better at night knowing he was far away and not under our father’s influence.
I knew he had disobeyed father tonight to save me. That alone would cost him—us—quite the punishment. The money sitting in the bank untouched would be more than enough to secure his private schooling and university tuition and fees. I wasn’t sure if I should tell Hugo about my intentions, but either way, I was certain he wouldn’t contest it. It wasn’t as if I was squandering it on shopping and other non-essential things in life. This was my brother’s livelihood, a far greater importance than mine or anyone else’s in my life.
Wiping the moisture from my eyes as I cleared my throat at the same time, I hadn’t realized the small movements I made actually woke him. He was gazing at me with sleepy and confused eyes.
“Can I get you anything? Water? Food? Anything at all?”
I made a small nod before replying to him. “Water sounds good,” I croaked out, wondering when he had turned into such a good man, all grown up and willingly ready to fight for me. I might not have much in my life, but I was grateful to have this bond with him. I was blessed in areas that counted most.
Watching him with curious eyes as he moved away to get me water, I placed my hand on my neck as gently as I could, slowly massaging the sore skin and pain that my larynx endured from my father’s sadistic way of punishing me for disobedience. At one point, I recalled the thought truly did enter my head that he wouldn’t bat an eyelash in wanting to end it, killing me with no conscience at all, as if I was a fly he needed to slap away.
That was expected coming from him, but it couldn’t be helped if I still felt hurt, as if his love and approval still meant something to me. It was hard to accept that a narcissist like him could ever love anyone but himself. Still, it was hard to shake off the feeling of wanting to be loved, to be accepted by one’s parents, even for a short amount of time. I supposed that emotion was normal, since I had longed for it to come true for as long as I could remember growing up.
Never once in my memory could I ever recall getting any sort of affection from him. There were no endearments. He always called me daughter or child in his same old, monotonous voice that sometimes could be congested from too much smoke or being too drunk. Heartless defined him in every sense of the word, since he never bestowed affection or any sort of emotion towards his wife or children.
It was disheartening to reflect on my childhood, but I supposed it was a good thing so I would never forget how cruel my father could be. After how he had brutally treated me tonight and with him hitting Yannis in the face, there was no going back, most especially since that had been the first time he had truly used forced on my brother.
Upon Yannis’s entrance with a glass in hand, he gave me a worried look before setting the glass on the table next to my bed then taking a seat next to me. From this angle, I could already see light bruising marking his once smooth face.
“Did he hit you anywhere else?” I croaked out as I tried to fight the well of tears that was already threatening.
He shrugged as if he didn’t want to discuss it, but after meeting my gaze, he knew I wouldn’t let the subject slip away, so
he took a deep breath before shaking his head.
“He tried to hit me with a vase after I pushed him off you. When he missed, he took a swing at me and hit me on the cheek. I fought back, hitting him in his face. Once he figured out I wasn’t going to let him hurt us anymore without a fight, he scrambled to his feet and took flight, leaving me with threats that he’ll eventually find a way to hurt you, Isobel.”
The unmistakable fear boring through his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Instinctively, I didn’t want him to worry about me. I could handle myself if need be. As long as I could keep my whereabouts hidden from his knowledge, I should be safe enough.
“Why does he want to hurt you, Iso? He was never this bad. I mean, he was horrible before, but never like this, as if he will really carry out his threat of killing you. I don’t understand any of it.”
He never would understand it, because I refused to disclose the terms as to how I had become my father’s puppet in supplying his sordid addiction.
Disconnecting from his gaze, I slowly lingered, biding time, staring at the sheets before I decided to finally take a few sips of the water he had placed on my bedside table. The cool water did little to refresh me since the soreness in my throat area ached, and the muscles throbbed whenever I tried to swallow or gulp the water down my passageway. I wanted to take some pills to numb the pain, but I didn’t want to bemoan my aches. The last thing I needed was for Yannis to worry more about me. Tonight, he had seen enough—far too much—and I didn’t even know how to fully explain to him without raising any suspicion, so I best address his question with caution.
“Father was furious because I confronted him about how he brutally painted our mother with marks and bruises” It skirted around the truth, but since what brought us both here in Athens was my mother’s hospitalization, it didn’t seem too far off the subject to make it laudable in his eyes.
“Has he ever done this to you before?” he pressed on, still keen on probing into the subject.
Warily gazing at him, I made a small, reluctant nod, admitting how this incident was only the most recent of many.
“He’s struck me here and there, though nothing severe like tonight.” Not to the point where I ran out of air and saw bright lights.
Maybe Yannis was right; maybe father truly meant to hurt me to the point where he killed me with his claw-like hands. I was sure he was capable of it, but the question that lingered in my mind was if he was willing to attempt it again.
“Why don’t you get some rest? There’s no need to nurse me. I can take care of myself.” My eyes darted towards his marked cheek. “You should probably put some ice on that,” I lightly suggested, but he didn’t seem too keen on my idea.
His young, dark, handsome face etched with worry before he made an understanding smile. “I’ll be fine.” He sighed then finally got up from my bed. “I’ll be in my room, but I’ll keep my door open just in case he decides to come back again tonight.”
I sadly nodded, watching him leave to retreat back to his bedroom.
Basing from past actions, my father usually never came back. He would eventually show up a few days after letting things settle, acting as if nothing happened. Then again, nothing of this sort had happened before tonight, so maybe his pattern was different since the target wasn’t my mother any longer but me.
Gaining a little strength, I slipped out of the bed to seek my purse to find the small pill bottle of Paracetamol to relieve some of my aches. I doubted I could get any sleep tonight, because truth be told, I was petrified that I might not wake up again. Fearing my father because he had struck me was one thing, but fearing for my life was another whole nightmare to live with.
Chapter 25
Isobel
Relief wasn’t sufficient enough of a word to describe what I was feeling when my father didn’t show up the following days after the episode involving Yannis and myself.
Our mother had since woken up and agreed she would be under care of a close aunt who despised our father. She was reluctant to agree to our terms at first, but seeing that Yannis and I were both adamant that we were not going to leave the country without her promising us this, she felt obliged to conform to our suggestions about her no longer living in the house, because that easily gave my father access to her. For our mother to be safe from his wrath, she would have to be under someone else’s roof, someone my father feared a little.
Yannis’s idea to ask our aunt Alayla was actually brilliant because she was married to a very powerful business man, one who wouldn’t crumble when our father threw one of his drastic threats. Not only that, but Alejo and my father had never gotten on well. We were truly grateful they had agreed to our request. After all, had it been up to our mother, she would voluntarily go back to the house and await my father’s return, and I couldn’t fathom what would come next if he was given another chance to violently hurt her.
She was a good woman who had made a mistake in falling for a monster. It wasn’t her fault, but at the same time, she was also to blame for letting this riot be prolonged for years on end. Her toxic love had enabled him to do as he pleased; thus, in turn, making him believe he was God, that he could do whatever he wanted without having to pay a price for abusing her and her children.
Yannis left the day before I intended to leave Athens to head back to London. Our mother and I temporarily moved into Aunt Alayla’s home, and I surprisingly received a text message from Hugo.
Are you back in London?
I gawked at his message, boldly staring at his name attached to the top, as I felt all sorts of emotions wash over me. Holy hell, how I had missed him…
I’m still in the motherland but bound to head back tomorrow morning.
His response was almost instantaneous.
Can I see you before you go back to London?
What did he mean by that? Was this his way of asking if he could come and see me here, in Athens? Uh … That wouldn’t be a great idea since my father was still at large somewhere in town.
I would love to see you, but coming here to Athens wouldn’t be the most feasible of ideas at the moment.
Declining his generous offer was hurting me raw, yet there was nothing I could do. Bringing more trouble here would not end well, most especially since my father had intentions of asking for more money from him.
Would Paris be feasible enough for you to agree to see me?
No words could describe the infallible happiness that raced through me.
Paris.
With Hugo.
Yes, fucking please!
Immediately typing my reply, I was grinning from ear to ear as excitement ignited my existence.
Paris sounds perfect.
Him, he was all I needed to be whole again. After the ugliness I had seen here, I definitely needed something beautiful to heal my internal wounds that were inflicted by my father.
My phone beeped with his reply.
I’ll be waiting for you with bated breath, ma belle.
I stared at his response with a loud, thudding heart, dying from hysteria. Gah, kill me now! How could he say the most perfect things to soothe my worries away? How could I be so miserable one day then receive a simple message from him, and everything seems to be magically brighter once again?
I was in love, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. If only things were different…
A melancholy sigh released from my lips before I immediately squashed the nagging ache that came with loving him too much.
What I had with him was enough. Surely, it was enough, I tried to convince myself as I sniffed my worries away, trying to sort out myself to get up and prepare to be physically presentable to my aunt and uncle for dinner, which was an hour and a half away.
“How is Damen? Are you two planning to get married once you’re done with university?” my aunt enthusiastically inquired, as if the very thought of young love made her feel young herself.
I wasn’t sure if this was the right moment to address that Damen and I were no longer
an item. He and I had dated for four years, and for me to announce we were no more, that would surely raise more questions than I was prepared to answer. More importantly, I didn’t want Mother to worry about me, because she had always praised me for choosing well in Damen.
Throwing my aunt a kind smile, I replied, “We haven’t gotten that far yet, Theía Alayla.”
“He’s a good man. I approve of him.” There was pride in her voice, as in my mother’s who chimed the very same sentiment.
I hadn’t much to say to that, so I couldn’t help feeling relieved when Uncle Alejo decided to discuss other news that addressed the current state of affairs of Greece and the massive debt it had accumulated through the years.
With all three of the older generation engaged in a conversation, I was left to my own devices, drifting in and out of my daydreams as I thought of all the different ways I could show Hugo just how much I longed for him. It had been almost a week since I had seen him last after all.
After dinner, the trio decided to have a nightcap while I took myself out in the garden, hoping to find some sort of clarity to feel centered after all that had happened here. I found, mostly at night, there would come some trepidation as I shut my lids for sleep. When I did, all I could see were those horrifying eyes and feel that odd sensation that I was being choked to death once again.
Another result from that episode was sleeping with the lights on. I didn’t feel safe or comfortable surrounded by complete or partial darkness. For the sake of my sanity, I needed to see my surroundings without a problem. I wasn’t sure if that was the cause of still being in Athens or if it would be an ongoing battle for me, but I hoped it wasn’t the latter. I was almost positive that, the moment I was out of this country, away from him and all the memories that reminded me of him, I would bounce back to my old self, one with no restrictions or fears.
The garden was lush with greens and colorful, wild blooms. I strode towards a boulder to sit on while calmly listening to the cicadas singing in the background, easing some of my tension away.