30. Chapter Thirty
“ Let me out!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, as I tried to kick my way out of this room.
Isadora came to speak to me and once she’d left, someone came from behind me, and slapped a hand around my mouth. I couldn’t see my attacker. They’d forced me out of the wing of the house and out the servants’ back door.
As soon as fresh air hit my skin, my attacker sank a needle into the side of my throat, and when I woke up again, I was here. In this room with no windows. There was a connected bathroom, with nothing in it other than toilet paper, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a brush, and a towel, along with soap in the shower.
I looked beneath the cabinets and in every dresser, for a weapon, but couldn’t find one. I knew my otōsama would be unhappy with me, to say the least. I was supposed to wait at The Academy, and study hard, until my family came for me, to set up an advantageous match.
However, years passed and no one came.
I adapted and learned how to survive that hell hole. I may be a virgin, but I’d received so much abuse based on my looks. I’d been fetishized, and lived in a fishbowl for all to see. My room had cameras in it, even the bathroom, so The Headmaster could share my body with the world.
He crowed on and on to the other girls about my exotic features. My dark skin, my eyes. He spoke about my pin-straight hair, which was so different from many other girls at The Academy who were my color.
Hell.
I hated everything about myself, choosing not to look in the mirror or make myself pretty. I never wore makeup and my clothes were shapeless. Not that it stopped men from pawing at me, or women from snidely treating me like shit on the bottom of their shoes.
I felt all alone.
Now, I found myself kidnapped. After being rescued from hell, it sure was a mindfuck. I looked everywhere for a way out, but there were none. After some time passed, I heard footsteps.
I pushed myself in a corner, waiting for whoever it was. I could hear a conversation happening outside of the door.
“I can feed her myself,” a growly voice said.
“But, sir-” came a woman’s shocked response.
“Leave me,” the dark voice demanded. Clearly they were in charge.
Heels took off down the hall and faded away. The doorknob turned and I held my breath. A man walked into the room. He was mildly attractive, from his side profile, and for sure, somehow related to the men who rescued me from The Academy.
He had similar features, but it was the contrasts I noticed first. Dark hair with flecks of gray, somewhere too old for me, and the worst of all of his differences were the tattoos that adorned his body. I wanted to trace the ones on his hand with my finger, while I asked what it meant to him.
That didn’t mean he was a friend. I didn’t know him. For all I knew, he was here to kill me. I glared at the tray in his hand. Maybe poison me. I could rush him, but how far would I get? I didn’t know if there were guards here, or if it was just a few servants.
I needed to plan my escape.
There was only one chance. He might kill me after. But I had to make it back to my father. If I didn’t marry well, his debt would bury him. He was the head of the Yakuza, and broke.
My okāsan died giving birth to me, and my otōsama never let me forget it. He said my life was owed to him. A debt repaid with blood. It hadn’t mattered that I was his only child. I’d already hurt him by taking away his soul mate.
Though many called my okāsan a whore, I believed she was an amazing woman. Before I was sent away to The Academy, the house was cold, and my only memory of her was a brief kiss on my forehead.
If it was real, I did not know.
But the blood loss had killed her pretty swiftly after that. So, I owed my otōsama and I would get him out of debt. Then I would be free. That was my plan. But first, I needed to get out of this room.
While I was lost in my head, the man set up my food. Maybe he was a servant who could help me, but I shivered when I remembered his commanding voice. No one in the working class spoke like he did.
He hadn’t looked up as I crept closer to the food. He motioned to the seat before him, and I slid in hesitantly.
“My name is Makari.”
I strained to hear his voice, as he barely spoke above a whisper. “Oh, well, my name is Kaida.” I winced at my accent.
Americans were harsh, and otōsan preferred living there over Japan most of the year. I was made fun of all the time for the way I spoke, and even now, I couldn’t help but flinch when meeting strangers .
Strangely, Makari sat next to me and helped me eat. He gazed into my eyes, and at my lips constantly, which was distracting. When I was down to the last bite I could tolerate, his eyes homed in on the corner of my mouth.
He leaned forward, and used his thumb, trying to get the syrup out of the corner of my mouth. He popped the same finger in his mouth, a smoldering look on his face. Our eyes locked, and he leaned forward.
Shocked by his actions, I sat frozen as he kissed me. My eyes fluttered closed, and butterflies took flight in my stomach. This was my first kiss. I couldn’t believe it, but I heard otōsama’s voice in the back of my mind, calling me a whore like my mother.
It shook me to my core, so when Makari slipped me some tongue, I didn’t hesitate to bite down as hard as I could, until my mouth filled with blood. I savagely tore my mouth from his, and spat his tongue on the ground.
He screamed and fell, as guards came pouring in, pulling their guns out on me. I held my hands up, with an innocent smile on my face.
“Oops.” I blinked slowly, hoping they didn’t kill me. “I didn’t mean to.”