Chapter 4
Chapter Four
ROSALIA
Glaring at the phone laying on the low table beside me as I soak in the tub, I ignore the missed calls currently on it. The stupid thing arrived as my “gift” from my betrothed this morning, and my father had me dragged down to the basement to spar with his best men as his response to it.
He doesn’t care how hurt I am, he did it anyway.
These are alphas and betas who are twice and three times my size, wearing tactical clothing and combat boots and were paid to beat the fuck out of me.
I was stripped of my gun and knife, forced to spar in leggings and a sports bra.
I feel like the shit underneath their shoes now, and my body looks it too.
I have several sets of tread marks from the bottom of boots on my side and back, a black eye, and bruises on my bruises. Papa told me once I was half passed out on the ground that two weeks would be plenty of time for me to heal before my birthday and wedding.
Anything I can’t heal, I’ll be able to fix with makeup. Ugh. What’s the fucking point of living through this hell?
Closing my eyes as a bubble pops in the steaming bath, I think about how much I hate my life. It’s difficult to think how lucky I was that I wasn’t raped this time, or to remind myself I promised Vero I would stay alive.
I haven’t seen her in a day and a half and I miss her desperately, even though I’m glad she hasn’t returned.
“Rosa.”
Peeling my eyes open because I’m absolutely exhausted, I find Uncle Elio standing in the doorway of my bathroom. This morning, while I was getting the hell kicked out of me, I also lost the privacy doors in my bedroom, closet, and bathroom.
They’ve all been removed, and I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight knowing anyone can come in while I’m vulnerable.
“Yes, Elio?”
I drop the “uncle” part because I’m too tired to keep up appearances. There’s no one to witness it in my bathroom, and though his lips press together in annoyance, he doesn’t react otherwise.
“You’re not eating. Your father wants you to drink this smoothie. It has the vitamins he has you take every morning. It’s very important you drink this to keep your strength up.”
I can taste the lie, and it sits acrid and gross on my tongue as I nod. I don’t want to fight. I want to fall asleep in the bath and quietly drown. It would be for the best, so I hold out my hand for the glass he's carrying.
If he says it’s important, then my father sent him up to get me to drink this by any means necessary.
“I’ll drink it.”
“You look like shit,” he replies to my disrespect, holding it closer to my body so I can take the glass.
I almost dump it all over myself due to the strength failing in my hand, and I sit up higher to drink it. Elio stares at my tits like the predator he is, while I ignore him to choke down the noxious smoothie.
I don’t know what it is, but it wasn’t made by someone on our kitchen staff. The fruit is still chunky instead of blended until smooth, and I shudder as it takes me forever to finish it. God, this shit is also sour as fuck, and no additional sugar was added.
I’d bet they chose the most tart fruits for this. It’s another test and punishment for daring to exist. My father screamed obscenities at me while I was beaten which all revolved around how disgusting I was for loving my stepsister.
I hate that everyone in this house thinks they can touch and abuse me, because they’re following their don’s lead.
“Done.” I cough as I speak to him, and Elio rolls his eyes as he snatches up the glass.
“I’ve seen the bush you have growing,” he sneers, picking up a razor and tossing it into the water. The stupid man doesn’t realize he just handed me a weapon.
What’s one more cut on my ruined skin? Who would even care?
“Are you suggesting I shave?” I choke out. Fuck, that shit really was nasty.
“A full body shave for your betrothed wouldn’t be a bad idea,” he shrugs. “I’ll have the boys leave you alone.”
I stare blankly as he leaves, before fishing the razor from the bottom of the tub. My vision gets hazy as I hold it, and I glance back up to find I’m completely alone, not one in the bathroom, but there’s no one in my bedroom either.
One swift bang of the razor on the side of the porcelain edge is all it takes for me to be able to break the blade free of the razor. Rational thoughts race through my mind, telling me all the reasons why this is a bad idea.
For one, a knife would be so much faster, but I’m alone now. This rarely happens, between the men who watch me from my bedroom door, or the various cameras my father has in the house.
There’s also nothing to say there aren’t people remaining in the hallway. Privacy is a construct I don’t deserve anymore, as I’m an animal who does as she’s told. My value is only as high as my ability to perform for my father.
Just do it, Rosa. One swift cut on both wrists is all I’ll need. Placing the empty razor handle on the table beside me, I reach for the blade. My teeth split my not-yet healed bottom lip as I sink them into it, and the taste of copper fills my mouth.
You’ve had worse pain than this.
Verona’s beautiful heart shaped face fills my mind, and tears threaten to obstruct my vision. Maybe one day, we’ll get to be together again. This house isn’t safe for her, and it never will be again.
My father and his men are on a rampage to destroy my body and spirit, and they don’t seem to care if I deserve it or not. Their misdeeds are drawn on my body, inside and out, like a bruised canvas.
Honestly, it’s been years of quietly crushing me, but as I catch a glimpse of my reflection accidentally, I have to admit I don’t have what it takes to keep going. My father could give me to his men again at any point to hurt me in the most despicable ways, and there’s nothing to stop him.
Nico doesn’t understand how awful things are, and he also doesn’t know me well enough to even think about helping. Everything he does seems to piss my father off. I keep the phone with me as a reminder that no one will save me.
…Which means there’s no one to stop me from ending it all either. At least, not while I’m alone.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth, lifting the blade to the underside of my wrist.
One sharp, deep, cut…Do it, Rosa.
DO IT!
My inner scream makes me flinch, and I begin to drag the blade across the outside of my skin, lightly at first to test it. Hmm. The beading of blood is slow and mesmerizes me as I stare at it.
My phone begins to vibrate and ring incessantly and I breathe in deeply to settle my nerves. The pain somehow feels good, and my lashes flutter against my bruised cheeks.
Fuck, why does this feel so good?
“Answer it, Rosa!” One of the men in the hallway yells. “Elio said to leave you alone to bathe, but your father said Nico is blowing his phone up.”
Ha! He acts as if I’ve been ignoring him for my own health. That’s funny.
My fingers feel as if they’re going numb as my body shakes with the stress of saying fuck it and finishing the job or being a good girl and answering the call. I’ve done what I’ve been told to for a long damn time, why can’t I just ignore orders this one last time.
The stress makes my fingers drop the razor blade into the water, and I gaze in distress as my escape from life disappears as well. Something soft hits my face, and I dunk my wrist in the bath to hide it.
Lifting the towel, I gaze dispassionately at the guard who is glaring at me from my bedroom. So much for privacy.
“Dry your hands and get moving,” he snarls at me. “Call the fucker back or it’ll go badly for you.”
“Fine. I was working on picking it up, but I won’t do it with an audience,” I rasp.
“It’s not like everyone hasn’t seen your tits by this point.”
I’m not concerned about my nudity, but rather my failed half hearted attempt to kill myself. I can’t even fucking do that right because I hesitated. I also don’t want someone listening to my part of the conversation. Papa couldn’t get any spyware on this phone, even though he tried.
Nico did something to it to keep my father from altering anything on the device.
I wait for him to leave, carefully drying my hand while keeping my other wrist hidden from him. I do it nonchalantly and haughtily as if I’m better than him. I only act the part of a spoiled mafia princess when it’ll save my life.
“You’re so fucking ugly now. I have no idea how you’re going to pull off getting married now.” The grumble is thrown at me as he leaves my bedroom, and I force the words to roll over me.
I am ugly, but at least now my outside matches my insides.
Pressing the towel against my bleeding wrist, I pick up the phone with my right hand. Of course, I cut the wrist of my dominant arm first.
Nico’s name flashes across the screen yet again, and I accept it with a sigh. My voice is way more fucked up than it was before. This should be awesome.
He made sure to program his number in the device, as if I’d think anyone else was calling. I’d roll my eyes if they weren’t already throbbing in my head.
“Hello, Nicolai.” What can I say? I’m a brat sometimes.
“Rosa.” My name is said like a prayer, and I close my eyes at the emotion in it. He doesn’t know me well enough to do this.
“That’s my name.” I shudder as a cough hits me, sloshing the water as I struggle through it. God, I sound fucking terrible. It also ruins the bratty, spoiled view of me he seemed to have.
“I’m picking you up and taking you to the doctor. You don’t sound well.”
“I’m fine,” I gasp. “Don’t come here. Just…please.”
The call turns to a video request, which I ignore because he can’t see me like this. No one can.
“Do I need to remind your father that harming my property isn’t in his best interests?”
My lips twitch as I drop my head back, watching as the small towel I have pressed against my wrist turns red with blood. Did my small cut go too deep?
Meh, it’ll be fine. I feel a little floaty as my pain receptors clash with the endorphins being released from having control over one thing, and I fear this could be addicting.