5. Chapter 5 - Rosalyn
The clasp holding the ruby onto my ring is so worn from me rubbing it, the silver is nearly paper thin. I should stop, but I can’t.
It’s the constant reminder of why my life is the way it is. Tying me to the past that I can barely remember.
My brothers each have one too. Theirs are broader, with the gem inlaid so they won’t catch.
John didn’t seem to mind if mine does. At least he had it made large enough that it would still fit me as an adult.
Not that I want to wear it any more. The simple symbol feels like an anchor.
A chain around my neck.
Ava’s birthstone. The sister I rarely think about missing, yet begrudge her very existence.
It’s her fault I’m here, trapped by my older brothers under the guise of protection.
I hate it here.
Staring out the window, my thumb idly drifts across the faceted red edge as I watch them loading my horse into the trailer.
This is the only thing that they allow, only because she did it too.
Somedays I wonder if they would have rather had me die than her.
“Sal?” Eli calls my name through the door before he knocks, the staccato of his knuckles against the wood drums his impatience. “You’re supposed to be in the fucking truck.”
Maybe I won’t go?
I’ll just rot in this room.
My silence will anger him, but my apathy is begging for anything different.
“Rosalyn,” he growls, twisting the handle.
I’m really going to piss him off now that he knows I had it locked.
Do I want him to kick it in?
Not today.
With a sigh, I pull myself up from my dressing table and yank the knob open. “What?” I stare at him with an intentionally blank expression. “It’s messed up if you’re trying to catch me naked, you sick bastard.”
Flipping him off doesn’t make me feel any better as I brush past him.
“Entitled brat,” he huffs in a loud whisper.
I’m tempted to ask if I can leave. Again. It’d solve all of our problems.
Except I already know the answer.
“You made me this way,” I retort, then point at my bag just inside my room. “Be useful and get those.”
I’m not above being a complete jerk to him.
John has the air of authority with a hint of caring. But Eli? He’s just a bitch doing whatever our oldest brother says.
“Did you make sure that Petunia has that new grain blend loaded?” I don’t bother turning to ask, striding down the hall towards the main entrance.
“Yea, your damn horse has all of her special food.” He picks up my luggage, then sets it immediately back down. “What the hell is in here? Why are they always so damn heavy?”
Without pausing, he flops the largest suitcase on its side and begins to unzip it.
“Screw you, Eli.” My foot lands on the flap before he can lift it. “I’m not a child. You have no right to go through my shit.”
We freeze in a glowering contest. A test of wills that has been going on for over a decade.
With a disgruntled snort, he throws up his arms and stomps away. “Then you haul your own crap. It’s only a two day event, for fuck’s sake.”
He doesn’t know I pack everything, each time, desperately hoping that this will be the trip where I get away.
This bubble wrap they keep me cloistered in is suffocating me.
And my stupid bag has wheels.
Chilly mid-November air hits me as I wrestle my suitcase outside, but I don’t let Eli see me struggle.
With a straight back and a tilt to my chin, I stride across the large paved driveway with my bag in tow.
John pauses with his own duffel in his hands, cocking his head. “Where’s Eli?”
Shrugging, I deposit the handle into its recesses and walk to the opposite side of the truck.
Without waiting, I climb into the passenger seat and insert my earbuds.
It’s my only escape from having to actually converse with either of my brothers. Fortunately, Eli decided to stay behind this time.
I shouldn’t complain. They aren’t as bad as my parents were.
There was a reason I think Ava latched on to that McCullough guy. He was her chance to escape.
Neither John or Eli have ever hit me. Or forced me to spend days locked in a pitch black basement.
Their cruelty is framed in care. A reluctance to relinquish control. I might not have fresh red welts on the backs of my thighs, but they’re slowly crushing my soul.
How much longer until I do something drastic, or dumb, to try and get away?
All I can do today is enjoy the change in scenery.
Wait, was there someone in that black SUV parked along the road?
I’m curious enough to shift in my seat, but when I glance back it looks empty.
My mind must be slipping.
When we pull up to the massive enclosed arena where the competition is being held, John drops the ramp on the trailer to unload Petunia.
“There’s something wrong.” I stop him before he can lead her out.
Dashing inside, I ignore the thick haze of hay dust settling over me to inspect the jagged line of blood at her shoulder.
“Shh, girl. It’s okay,” I murmur, tracing the scabbed edge. “John? It’s deep.” I could push my finger into the wound past the second joint if I wanted.
She’s not putting any weight on the leg.
Fuck. I was looking forward to having a few hours amongst other people.
With a sigh, my older brother ushers me out. “I’ll bring you home, then we’ll get the vet to take a look.” He lifts the heavy door and slides the bolt back into place.
Tears prick my eyes, but I’m a pro at keeping them at bay. “Okay.”
Sitting in the truck, I flip through nearly every song on my playlist while he takes care of canceling my appearance today. It doesn’t help to soften the sharp edge of pain in my stomach from having to leave.
As the parking lot, and the big red building slip into the rearview, John pushes up the wide brim of his hat and pokes my arm, signalling me to take out my earbud.
“Petunia is getting pretty old. Maybe it’s time we start looking at a replacement? One you can start working on this winter?” His dark eyes squint at me after he navigates us onto the highway.
Another horse.
Another anchor.
He’s pushing me to stay in my role. To be beholden to him.
I’m the smiling face of the Triple Bar Ranch. The golden-haired princess who shows the world how perfect our place is.
Of course he wants me to continue putting on a good front.
It’s all about reputation.
I’ll give in. All I know how to do is survive.
With a broad, feigned, grin, I look up at him with the same expression I give a judge when they’re handing me a gold trophy.
“Thank you, that would be wonderful,” I lie.