Chapter 33
Princess
I lie in bed, unsure what to make of what happened tonight. I trace my lips with my fingertips lightly.
My entire body feels like it’s on fire. I can’t believe Lucio and I came so close to crossing an invisible line.
I sit up, swing my legs over the edge of my bed and get up. I need to shower. I don’t know when I’ll see him again, but I hope he won’t avoid me. And I don’t know what I’ll do when they find out I’m the one responsible for the security breach.
This is all a fucking mess. And I need to figure out what the fuck I want to do, fast.
Turning the shower on, I strip out of my clothes and dump them in the laundry basket. I wait until the water is warm enough not to cause goosebumps. Stepping under the water, I try not to panic at how Lucio will react once he does find out that I was the one who hacked into their system.
And lied to him .
I absentmindedly wash my hair before scrubbing the rest of my body.
After the shower, I feel less tense, but I still feel a sense of doom. I don’t know what it is, but it’s there in the pit of my stomach, nagging me.
I barely sleep a wink all night, I just lie there, staring at my room’s ceiling.
The anxiety is killing me, and I know I’m starting to regret the fact that I didn’t tell Lucio the truth. It’s past six in the morning when my phone buzzes. I look over to the nightstand where it’s sitting and pick it up, seeing that it’s a text from Tiana.
Tiana:
Hiya babe.
Just wanted to let you know that I’m back in New York. Would love to hang out tomorrow if you’re available.
If not, no pressure. Just let me know when you’d be able to.
Me:
Hey…
I’ll have to check with my mom, but I’ll let you know.
How have you been BTW? How’s Beau?
Beau is Tiana’s fiancé. He was her high school boyfriend, and they have been together since they were thirteen. Considering that we’re in our twenties, I’d say they’d fared quite well.
Tiana:
That sounds great! I’ve been good, thanks for asking. Beau and I are moving in together soon. I really can’t wait. What about you? Anything new?
Me:
OMG! You guys are finally moving in together??? YAY. And nah, there’s nothing new going on.
Tiana:
Okay, I’m not saying you’re lying and I want you to spill, but my bullshit radar just went off.
Me:
LOL. Beau needs to stop validating your craziness.
Tiana:
Never.
I snort and shake my head. I should probably get up and actually dress for breakfast.
My mother is standing at the bottom of the stairs beaming at me. Fucking beaming .
What on God’s green earth is going on?
She’s holding a bouquet of flowers. And not just any flowers. My favorite flowers. A soft lilac wrapping paper holds the arrangement of saffron crocus, gypsophilas—more commonly known as baby’s breath—and asphodels.
I finally reach the bottom of the stairs and ask, “What’s this?”
“It’s a bouquet that was delivered five minutes ago, for you.” She’s still smiling as if she has just won in life.
I grab the obvious card from in between the flowers. “Who’s it from?”
Her smile drops, my question clearly irritating her enough that she feels the need to sneer in my face. “Obviously Daniel.”
Right. Obviously.
I flip the note open and read the lines written on the inside.
Thinking of you.
I highly doubt this was from Daniel, but I don’t say anything. Instead, I take the flowers off her hands and head into the kitchen to place them in a vase.
“You should call Daniel and thank him for the flowers,” Mother suggests from behind me as I rearrange the flowers in the vase to see which way I like them better.
I try to ignore her, but she doesn’t allow it.
“Princess! I’m talking to you. At least have the courtesy to answer your mother.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, still lost in thought.
He really shouldn’t have, because what the hell was he thinking, having it delivered to my family’s house?
“I’ll text Daniel after breakfast,” I tell her.
It’s a lie. I won’t be texting him at all. Because if I text him about some random flowers getting delivered here, he’ll be confused and deny it, which in turn will make my mother suspicious.
“I’m going to put these in my room. I’ll be down in a minute.” I grab the vase, not waiting for an answer from her, and head back up the stairs.
For some reason, I feel lighter, as if the weight on my shoulders has been lifted. And there’s this feeling of juvenile giddiness that I know I shouldn’t be feeling, but I can’t help it.
I leave the vase by the window, wanting the flowers to get as much sunlight as possible, before heading back down.
Everyone is seated at the table, even Dad.
His condition has significantly deteriorated in the past couple of weeks; he’s not only sleeping more than he used to, but he also struggles with worsening muscle cramps.
Not to mention the way he looked when he couldn’t hold onto his fork for more than two seconds.
I struggle to keep the tears at bay because it’s so hard to watch the man I grew up admiring and wanting to make proud lose his ability to do the things he wants to.
It breaks my heart. And the most upsetting part of it all is we can’t do anything about it. Life really is a joke.
My mother seems to be in a good mood; she’s not frowning. I settle into my seat across from Kaito. I wait till the food is served and conversation is flowing before I gather the courage to ask her what I’ve wanted to ask since this morning.
“Mother.” I wait ’til her attention is fully on me before proceeding. “I was wondering if I could go out tomorrow to see Tiana?”
I have to fight the urge to bite the insides of my mouth. She drops her fork onto the table; it lands with a thwack. I nearly flinch. Nearly .
“No,” she finally says.
I swallow back the urge to cry and instead grow a backbone. “Why not?”
“Because you’ll be going out with Daniel tomorrow on a date to thank him for the flowers.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. They’re not even from him.
Instead of just accepting the defeat, I argue, “I didn’t force him to get me the flowers, and I won’t go on a date with a man I barely know just because he got me flowers. I don’t owe him anything.”
My mother reaches for her glass of water, and I, thinking she’s dismissing the conversation continue arguing.
“This isn’t fai?—”
I don’t even get to finish what I want to say because she throws the cold water in my face, drenching me. Balling my hands into fists, I bite back the scream I feel rising in my throat. I won’t give her the fucking satisfaction of seeing me lose it.
“You’re a bitch, you know that?” It’s a rhetorical question; I don’t wait for her reaction.
Wiping the water from my face, I get up to leave. But she’s fast, getting up and stepping in my way. I don’t know what she’s going to do. Not until the sting settles into my cheek and the loud crack echoes in the room do I realize that she’s slapping me.
And it’s not only once.
She slaps me again as she shouts, “You want to act like an ungrateful, insolent child, then you’ll get treated like one. Go to your room. And don’t even dream of coming out before I decide.”
My mother lands another slap on my cheek, breaking the skin. She raises her arm to slap me again, but Kaito pulls her away from me.
“She’s bleeding. What were you thinking?” he whispers, his voice harsh.
I ignore them all, storming out and to my room. She’s never loved me. She was never a mother to me. Being the black sheep of my family has never helped me, not before and not now.
Fuck, it hurts. The fact that I’ll always be less in her eyes hurts like hell. I knew how she felt about me from a young age, but I didn’t know her hatred ran so deep. And I hate that I care about what she thinks.
My cheek is still bleeding when I finally slam my bedroom door shut, locking it behind me. I can feel the blood drip down to the edge of my jaw, but I don’t wipe it. I fucking hate her.
I move toward my vanity mirror; I’m crying so much that my eyelids are swollen, my eyes red. My cheek is very red, the skin clearly broken, peeling at the edges. I grimace at the pain that shoots through me when I brush my fingertips over the wound.
My phone rings on the nightstand, and I suck in a sharp breath when I see that it’s Lucio. I don’t know if I can hide the fact that I’m crying. But after trying a breathing technique for a couple of seconds, I answer the call.
“Hey.” I try to sound as natural as I can.
But it doesn’t work.
“What’s wrong?” Lucio asks.
“Nothing.”
He, of course, doesn’t buy it. “Tell me what’s wrong, or I’m coming over there.”
Letting out a deep breath, I tell him, “I just had a fight with my mom, and she did what she usually does.”
I keep it vague on purpose because I don’t know how he’ll react to the fact that my mother hits me.
“And what is it that she usually does?” he asks.
I don’t answer.
“What does she do, Princess?” he asks, his voice low, as if he has an inkling.
“It’s fine, Lucio. Really,” I say.
“She hits you.” He’s not asking. It’s as if he’s just voicing the conclusion he’s come to. “That’s what she does, isn’t it?”
Lucio waits for a denial that never comes, then curses under his breath,
“Fuck. I’m coming over. You’re not staying in that house for a second longer.”
“Wha—no!” I protest, but he’s already cut the call as if he has a right to make this decision for me.
I shouldn’t be happy that he doesn’t want me in this house, with someone who could hurt me. But I can’t help myself. He’s the first person to actively do something to protect me from my mother’s abuse. My dad and brothers may not approve, but they don’t stand up for me.