HELP
“ E leven o’clock,” my father says. “Wasn’t I clear?”
Dante’s hand tightens on my hip. “I brought her home safe and sound.”
My father narrows his eyes at him, then shifts his gaze to me.
“You. Inside.”
I clench my fists but glance at Dante, offering him a shy smile before retreating to the living room. I can’t hear their conversation anymore, but I can sense Dante’s frustration as he speaks to my father.
Mum approaches me with a sad smile. She has new bruises on her face, and my stomach twists because I know it’s my fault.
“How was it?” she asks in a whisper.
“Dante knows how to cook. I didn’t know men could do that!”
Her smile softens.
“Some of them can.” She brushes her hand gently against my cheek. “If you need any advice, pet, I can—”
A slap cuts her off. I freeze.
“Go to our room,” my father commands.
Mum glances at me with wide, panicked eyes. I nod slowly, and she runs upstairs without another word.
The sound of the door closing echoes in the silence. I shove my father away and bolt toward the kitchen. Grabbing a knife, I turn around and point it at him.
“Don’t touch me!” I hiss. “I’ll tell Dante.”
He crosses his arms and lets out a cold laugh.
“You don’t want to do that, püppchen .”
“I don’t, but you’re leaving me no choice!”
He sighs and reaches for something at his belt.
A gun.
He points it at me, and panic floods my veins.
“Don’t be stupid, child,” he says. “Put that down.”
“No!”
He shoots at my arm. Blood drains from my face. The knife slips from my hand as he strides closer to me. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he presses the point of the gun under my chin.
I’m going to die.
This is it.
“Don’t you see what I’ve done for you, you fucking bitch?”
But I won’t give up. I don’t care anymore.
“You can’t kill me. Dante will know it was you.”
Anger flashes in his eyes. “Dante can’t help you, püppchen . He won’t. You’re as stupid as your mother if you think someone will ever love you.”
He hits my head with the gun and pulls my hair, dragging me toward my room.
Inside, he shoves me onto the bed and slams the door shut.
I scramble toward the bathroom, but before I can close the door, he yanks my hair again and slams me against the bathtub.
He seizes the moment to straddle my body, pinning my hands above my head.
His weight crushes me, and his other hand wraps tightly around my neck.
“You’re a fucking whore, just like your mother,” he hisses. “You can’t keep your fucking legs closed, can you?”
My nails claw weakly at his hand in a desperate attempt to push him away.
“Da…ddy—”
“Shut the fuck up. Tara was the only one who could do whatever she wanted.” He grinds himself against me. “Perhaps I should change my little plaything.”
My vision blurs and darkens.
Dante must know. He has to help me.
My father lets go, and I gasp for air, but the relief doesn’t last. He pulls my shirt up and ties my wrists with it.
Terror floods my veins.
He can’t do this. He told me he wouldn’t.
He touches, licks, and bites wherever he wants. I scream, but not for help. It’s useless to scream for help. My mum can’t know, and Dante’s gone.
This is it for me. It’s over.
He pulls my trousers down. I try to fight back, but he points the gun at me and says he’ll kill me if I don’t stay still. Tears pour from my eyes as he strips me naked. The floor is cold. He does the same thing over and over again, and I cry and scream, begging for him to stop.
I can’t understand what he’s saying. I only know that he starts hitting me, and it hurts. Everything hurts so much.
He unbuckles his belt, and then I feel him near me. One of his hands still points the gun at me.
A scream cuts through the air. My mum bursts through the door, but I can’t look at her. I can’t let her see me like this. I don’t understand what she’s saying, just something about how he’s going to kill me.
She shoves him away, throwing herself over my body, shielding me, but he drags her off, tossing her like a doll. He slams the door shut and shoves the dressing table in front of it to block her from coming back.
Mum pounds on the door, her screams tearing through the house. That must stir something inside my father because, instead of going through with his plan, he hits me over and over again. His kicks keep coming, his words a low, venomous mumble I can barely make out.
Something about this being my fault.
It’s always my fault.
He steps on my chest, and the air leaves my lungs. He stops. A heavy sigh escapes him, as if he’s tired, while I’m left naked, bleeding, and unable to breathe.
He paces through my room, looking for something. Then, grabbing my hair, he dresses me as if I were a doll. A nightgown covers my body, and he tosses the clothes I was wearing next to me. As he throws me to the floor, I hit my head again.
He shoves the dressing table aside and opens the door. I can’t move.
“You’ll stay here until the wedding. This is the last time you’ll disobey me, brat.”
No.
I want to see Dante.
I need him.
“ Daddy … please.” I can barely make a sound.
“He’s not going to help you. Not now, not ever. He doesn’t want you and never will.”
“You… you can’t… please,” I manage, but my words are weak and useless.
He stands in the doorway, looking outside. “You must learn where your loyalties lie, ungrateful whore. I’m done listening to your mother. You will be mine now.”
Mum tries to force her way in, but he blocks her with his arm.
“She could die, she could be bleeding—”
“Then she’ll die,” my father says coldly. “She should never have been born anyway, right?”
What?
“Erik—”
“Get out! I’m sick of you too,” he roars.
He slams the door shut, and my mum’s pleas and screams send a shiver down my spine.
I don’t move. I can’t even crawl back to bed.
My phone vibrates in my trousers, but I don’t pick it up. If I do, Dante will find out about this, and nothing can stop my father now.
No one can help me.