Velka Manor (Twisted Bloodline)
1. Octavia
1
Octavia
R ain thunders against the car, fog rolling down the hills of the moorland as we speed past. The stars in the night sky that usually shine so brightly hide behind the dark clouds looming above. Lightning cracks in the air, and a shiver rolls down my spine, as if I can feel the icy wind outside cutting my skin. A squeal escapes my lips, and my driver gives the barest of glances in the rearview mirror, shaking his head before focusing on the road again.
My palms sweat the further we go, my stomach swirling with nerves. Every bump in the road makes my stomach drop, and bile creeps up my throat. I can’t ask the driver to stop; he wouldn’t even if the colour of my skin turned green. Once my father gives someone an order, he expects it to be followed exactly. It doesn’t matter if I feel sick or even if I am sick. He will deposit me at my home covered in my own sick, another disgrace upon my father’s door. I would have angered him before I even arrived. I’d risk being returned to the boarding academy where families send their disgraced bloodline.
I can’t go back. I’ve finally left after three years, dragged out by my arm and thrown into the back of a black Rolls Royce. We've been travelling nonstop for two days, only pausing briefly for restroom breaks and to refuel the car. I might have been upset about the entire thing if it didn’t mean I would get to them quicker. I wanted to bask in the fire of their gazes and feel the warmth of their skin.
It’s been three years since I’ve seen them , three years since my father found the diary where I wrote my deepest, darkest desires, page upon page filled with them and everything I have ever dreamed of them doing and saying. He read it all; he saw my darkest shame, my sickness—every single word.
I never intended for anyone to find it. I don’t even know how he did, but I can never forget the disgust in his eyes when he barged into my room and dragged me from my bed, the shame in his tone as he called me a vile disgrace to his bloodline. He slammed my head into the wall, screaming that I was a sick and twisted little girl who needed to be punished. I needed the sickness in my mind carved out.
He beat me black and blue, and in the morning, before even the staff were awake, he dumped me in this very car and sent me away.
“Get her out of my sight. You will never step foot in this house again, Octavia. Not until the brothen’s sisters banish the sickness from your mind.”
I left the day before my twentieth birthday; I didn’t even get to say goodbye to them. They were absent due to work, meeting with the heads of other families. They promised they would be back for my birthday; they never missed it. My father would throw a big party every year with extended members of our family, our bloodline, but then he would leave, and they would do something special for me the next day, just the three of us.
It was always something I loved. It went from teddy bear tea parties to ice skating on the river, and then, on my eighteenth birthday, they snuck me out to a club in a nearby town. That was the year I gave my dark, twisted thoughts a voice. I let the tiny whispers turn into a roar, and I could no longer drown them out. Dancing with them in that club, feeling their bodies moving next to mine, grinding against my back, changed everything.
To them, it was an innocent night dancing with their little sister, trying to show her some fun. But to me, it was the night of my sexual awakening, the first time I acknowledged that I don’t look at them like a little sister should. It was the beginning of the end.
I don’t know why Father has sent for me now, why he decided that my time with the sisters should end. I haven’t cured the sickness; I still want my brothers more than I want air in my lungs. No matter how many beatings the sisters gave me, or how many times they withheld food, my desire never changed. I went along, saying and doing whatever was asked of me, just so I could be with them again. But the sisters were not na?ve. I saw in their eyes that they didn’t believe me, so why has he brought me back?
Whatever the reason, this time, I cannot slip up. This time, I have to push my sinful feelings down as deep as they will go. The one thing clear to me while I was away was that I cannot live without them. Bastian and Dorian are my black heart and poisonous soul. Without them, life becomes obsolete. Nothing is worth living for if I don’t have them. I cannot be separated from them again. If I am, I won’t be walking this Earth anymore; there will be no point. Father must believe what I felt has disappeared.
“You’re home, Miss Stone,” the driver says, breaking me out of my thoughts.
My head whips around, my gaze meeting the dark brick castle now in front of us. The fluttering in my stomach turns wild, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. The driver jumps out, quickly opening an umbrella, shuffling around to open my door. The cold winter air smacks me in the face, goosebumps running across my exposed skin. As soon as my shoes connect with the wet ground, lightning flashes in the sky, thunder rumbling in the air only a few seconds later, and the entrance to the castle slowly cracks open. I shake as I move forward, a foreboding feeling swamping my body. The moorland has welcomed me home with its lightning and thunder; now, it’s time for my family.
I feel I am safer with the lightning.