Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
SIMONA
C onfusion clouds my thoughts, until I realise where I am. My bedroom. I don’t remember getting here but to be honest I have been walking in a veritable fog since the night with Brody weeks ago. I don’t think I’ve slept a handful of hours or walked a hundred steps without questioning where I am or how I got there. The lack of memory is temporary, and in the next heartbeat, the floodgates reopen like they have every day for the past however many days.
The horror rushes back in full, awful, vivid clarity.
Sounds of Brody fill my ears, while each and every touch of his burns as I relive the horror. Again. As always, after I remember the touches, his tainted scent is all I can smell—so strong, so suffocating—I spin around, expecting him to be in my room.
I’m alone. And I’m thankful for that because without his commanding bark and intimidating presence to keep me quiet, I break down in a flurry of loud tears. One sob though and all of a sudden my throat is closing, letting my panic fester.
I literally fall off my bed. Though it was intentional because a part of me, a huge part, needs to run away and hide in darkness as the shame surges to life. I crawl under my bed, not stopping until I’m swallowed by the deepest shadow. Only then do I feel safe enough to curl into a small ball. Without grace, this is how most mornings begin—hiding, letting everything go. I cry and cry until the tears stop falling and the ache in my chest finally loosens its grip.
His bark worked. It keeps working. Every time I try to tell my family, Brody’s command to stay silent and not share even one thing with anyone rings in my ears, vibrating a command that rattles through me from my head to my toes, stealing words from my lips. It’s horrid.
I know my parents are aware something has happened. At the same time, they’ve made little attempt to figure it out. I don’t want to say they’re hiding behind Lawson’s needs, but it is what I feel, which only adds to the crushing sadness I now have inside my heart. Not for the first time in my life, I wish they saw beyond the world they’ve spent their entire lives perfecting.
Brody continues his rise as an emerging key-player in the Henderson family. He can do no wrong. And worst of all, he knows it. He probably didn’t even need to bark me silent—nothing I say would ever change their mind about the kind of person he is.
More than that, I suspect no one would question what he did because in their eyes, it was his right as my intended Alpha. They might not approve of the timing, but in the end, they’d fall back on the fact that we were ‘packed’ together. And given how adored he is, I have no doubt they’d weave the story—turning me into the villain, crafting excuses for him so neatly that I’d be the one left carrying the blame .
I’m not going to waste my energy on trying to sway anyone. Why should I?
I know I said no. I know he barked in my face until my fight was gone. I know he thinks he won.
But the truth is—he raped me.
Being unable to talk about what happened, I have fallen into self-reliance. I’ve read countless self-help books on surviving sexual assaults. I’ve gone through other victims’ stories, searching between the lines for the answers, and it most certainly has helped. Perhaps it is wrong, but the biggest source of my healing comes knowing I get a reprieve from this life, four years at Unity Collegiate, the prestigious Omega finishing school—because of course the families want the very best education. So we’re sent away to learn how to cook, clean, and do nothing but pamper their Alphas.
And I would do everything expected of me. I would become a pillar of servitude if it meant I got one day of reprieve. Now more than ever.
When the shadows under my bed fade, I finish off my daily self-help session with a renewed energy. First things first, and starting with the hardest, I climb out from under my bed and walk straight to the mirror. Undressing from PJ's I don't remember putting on, I stare long and hard at the evidence Brody left behind. The bruises might have faded, but when I see my reflection I see the trauma of his touch in vivid recollection. My thighs are a tapestry of colour. The bruises are already black and purple, rust stains the inside of my inner thighs. Again, it’s because I know no one will listen, I needed to share proof of what happened even if it’s for myself later. I used the Instamatic camera—ironically a gift from Brody, and I remember taking hours the morning after cataloguing the marks he left behind. There wasn’t enough film left for all of them, but the collection I compiled within my journal was a morbid but accurate portrayal .
Pulling back the edge of the rug under my desk, I pry up a floorboard to triple check my journal is still hidden. And to pat my pet rock for comfort. Small things mean the world these days.
Reliving it is inevitable. Knowing the details are in my journal always makes me feel better, but it also keeps the memory alive, feeding it. There hasn’t been a morning since it happened that I haven’t walked into the shower trembling or out of it shaking. Only the coldest water helps, and I can’t budge an inch until the scent of him is gone because even now it’s all I can smell.
My bones literally hurt. I’d love nothing more than to crawl under my bed to hide but time is against me. People are arriving within the hour.
The short-sleeved floral dress I was going to wear gets replaced by a dour, long-sleeved dress my mother selected. It’s hideous. I hate it but not as much as I hate the marks Brody left—marks that are still on my body even though you can't see them.
The door opens and my mother starts crying. Her tears have a domino effect and within a few steps the other women are wiping their eyes. I stand stock still, not making a noise or even looking their way because I’m struggling to deal once again with their tried on emotions, on top of my own very real ones.
Wren, my mother, steps forward, and she is as small and delicate as her namesake. “You look exactly how I thought you would.” Her voice is soft and constricted with emotion.
Beside her, the other women mirror her words and actions.
If you think Stepford Wives on steroids, you’re only part way to understanding how contrived these women are. I don’t blame them, it’s all they know, but I most certainly resent the fact it’s the only life they want to know. Maybe they found their own way of accepting this life in forced pleasantries, but I’m sure I never will.
“Simona, you make my son so proud. You really are becoming such a lovely girl.” Brody’s mother, Fiona, steps forward, bringing her canned peach scent with her. I nearly choke on it but manage not to.
Her scent is as nauseating as her insinuation I’m anything but an object for Brody to play with. I’m pretty sure that is not something to make a mother proud, but I stick to the script for a few more hours.
“I think it’s time,” my mother says after a while and after she unnecessarily adjusts the belt and the sleeves of my dress.
Miraculously, I don’t recoil from her touch when she brushes her hand over my torso. Only because I’m more than experienced at hiding pretty much any and all reactions these days.
Fiona holds my blazer up for me, and I turn, letting her help me into it. Then the four of them step back and look at me for a final time before they each kiss my cheek and wish me luck, finally leaving me but also giving themselves time to get back downstairs to the guests.
I was hoping to avoid a scene but that was never going to happen. This going away party was probably scheduled and organised by the time I was fifteen years old. But that is the life they live—everything preordained and overly planned.
Once the women leave, I feel better. And I’m a little surprised by the nostalgia as I walk around my room. In a few more hours, I’ll be leaving this room for four beautiful years. Eventually, I run out of time trying to avoid the party and have no choice but to face the crowd downstairs.
One of the event organisers—tasked with outdoing the last ‘family’ party—waves me to a stop near the entry, leaving me with firm instructions to wait for Brody so we can make our grand entrance .
I pretend to pluck something off my jacket as opposed to looking at anyone, and as always, no one mentions or pays me attention anyway. I wish I could stand out here until the end of the party. At the end of a corridor a door opens, and it’s Daniel, the guy I caught Brody being intimate with at school all those months ago. Instead of a school uniform, he’s dressed in the standard black uniform of the hired staff. I turn quickly to face the opposite direction before he sees me, just in time to see Brody appear. He comes towards me, from the opposite direction, wearing his trademark false smile, his hand out for me to take. It’s not really an option. He pulls me close, holding me against him, his hand trailing up and down my waist.
I keep as supple as possible, even as his fingers brush harder than necessary, touching all the places he knows he hurt.
“Your scent makes me sick. Go put more blocker on,” he insists with a smile, barely hiding the condescending tone to his voice.
Without being told twice, I excuse myself and go off to check the downstairs powder room for more scent blocker, spraying another cloud of it. I didn’t forget to put it on earlier, he was just being an ass. The spray stings my nose, but I’d much rather harsh smell the chemicals than Brody.
By the time I’m back, Brody is in deep discussion with a couple of his friends—who I am starting to suspect he is thinking of adding to our pack. They’re not as bad as Brody but they’re all cut from the same cloth. Collectively, everyone ignores my return until Brody’s father pokes his head out, with Lawson behind him.
Brody’s father looks at me. “What is the problem, Simona? We’re waiting.”
“Sorry, sir.” Brody turns and goes straight to my father, patting him on the back. “Simona was nervous and running late, but we’re good to go now.”
“Fine,” my father says before he looks at me. It’s almost a double take, but I’m used to it now. The first time, I nearly fainted with relief—thinking he remembered. But he didn’t. He still doesn’t.
The speeches and cake cutting passes quickly. Brody works the crowd and keeps up appearances. The flowers and gifts make everyone in the room beam at Brody’s thoughtfulness. Thankfully as soon as the photographer snaps the final shot of everyone in attendance, the crowd returns to their own smaller groups, and I get a chance to take a full breath of air.
My excitement continues to rise with each passing second, threatening to crack through my carefully constructed veneer. It’s almost impossible to keep from dancing and singing, considering there’s only fifteen minutes left to go.
I know there’s only minutes remaining because pretty much everyone is leaving for a flight to St. Barths where they’re going to spend the holiday season. Since I leave for Unity soon, my soon-to-be Alpha thought I should stay here. Supposedly, it would be less taxing on me.
This time away from my parents as well as Brody’s, along with all the other people I usually am forced to socialise with promises to be like a vacation.
“Simona, sweetie, everyone is in the office already. We all need a quick chat before you head off.” Fiona kills my hopes of spending the last few minutes alone.
“Of course,” I offer blandly excusing myself from my own party and making my way to Lawson’s office.
There’s no sign of sunshine here anymore. New curtains block the light because of the headaches Lawson gets.
I knock and wait to be called in. I’m the last to arrive. Taking the seat beside the desk—positioned perfectly so I can’t avoid looking at everyone when I sit—Brody’s father wastes no time launching into an explanation of why I am here.
“I trust you will remember you represent our family, and your Alpha, Simona. And that should be your motivator in everything you do: how you act and what you say. I’m sure none of us need to express how disappointed we would be if you didn’t strive for perfection. In regards to your grades, your average must not slip, and you are to be within the top percentile of each class. Any formal functions at Unity will require you to be chaperoned. If it is an external function or event, you will need to have prior permission to attend. Should you gain weight, we will need a valid explanation, along with an exercise regime to facilitate your weight returning to what has been set by our dietician. With regard to your clothing, your wardrobe has been provided and that is what you will wear, but we would prefer you to wear your uniform while you are at Unity. My son,” he points unnecessarily to Brody, “will be responsible for the management of your allowance, including your expenses.”
I keep my eyes downcast, fixed on a spot on the carpet, hiding the indignation—and the flicker of excitement—in my gaze. I wait for him to continue. And he will, without question, because Brody’s father is one of those people who believes only he should be speaking. No one around him argues, so I guess they believe it.
“In regards to your heat cycles,” he starts, and as much as I try not to flinch because I already know this is going to hurt, I still brace and turn slightly. "We have spoken with the Mothers at Unity Collegiate and have decided it would be best for you not to have access to any heat relief aides. As you are still a virgin, there is a concern that if you were to use any aides you may inadvertently break your hymen which would be very concerning. That task falls to your Alpha and no other person. Brody is worried for your welfare and would like an annual medical report to be provided which Unity has offered to assist us with. Any questions?”
I wait before answering him, because that is also expected. Like they want to see me squirming while I absorb his wise words. And yeah, the sarcasm in my voice is contained because I have gotten very good at being as one dimensional as possible around these people. “No, sir. Thank you for setting everything out clearly for me to understand.”
On top of Brody being an asshole, he just proved himself to be a manipulative asshole. He’s now made it impossible for me to pass another medical examination, which I suspect will continue to give him endless amusement during the next few years. But that’s a small price to pay to keep him hundreds and hundreds of miles away from me.
Speaking as faintly as possible, I keep my eyes low. “Thank you all for coming today, but more importantly thank you for having enough faith to let me attend Unity. I won’t let anyone down, and I promise I will do my best every day.”
I lift my eyes at the end, a quick glance around the room confirming what I already knew—everyone’s focus is on Brody, not me. He nods towards his father.
“Simona will walk me out now. It will give me the chance to reiterate everything I’ve arranged for her. But I will see you all in St. Barths. And thank you for being here today—now excuse us.”
My parents get up quickly, and we say our goodbyes with handshakes rather than hugs—an adjustment directed by the setting. Near the door, Brody shuffles impatiently, effectively ending my goodbyes.
I follow him out. My insides are swimming with giddy energy, and I have to coach myself to hold my enthusiasm silently until they leave but I am fully expecting another parting shot from Brody. He’s too vicious not to do something as a reminder of the power he holds .
Walking through the front door, he ignores the world around him, barely acknowledging anything before waving to the driver to stay in the car. Inside, Brody’s friends are already there, along with a few girls who seem to be travelling with them.
I know better than to ask questions. Instead,I rush to reinforce my inner walls, preparing for his worst. It’s coming—I can feel it like a drop in the atmosphere.
Brody grabs my arm and squeezes. In a way, I’m thankful the driver and his friends are here, or it could be a hundred times worse. His grip tightens and I know I’m going to be left with a black ring around the top of my arm. One tug and I fall into him.
“Remember what I said, Simmy. I. Own. You. And your ripped up cunt.” He’s fast and rough, not just with his words. He grabs my face and smears my lipstick from one side of my face to the other. “Your parents know I own you. Mine do too. The whole world is fully aware that you are mine. Sadly, for me, I can’t fucking stomach you. I hate you as a person and for the way you have ruined my life.” A press of his designation sends his voice dropping—from casual conversation to an Alpha command—right into the shell of my ear, making me squeeze my eyes shut. “I forbid you.”
He flicks his hands, shoving me away from him. I bounce off the car and fall on my butt. A malicious scoff is the last thing I hear as he climbs into the car, and it drives off as soon as the door slams. Which is all I have prayed for since I woke up in this nightmare.