Page 127 of His to Own

“Well? What is it?”

With a deep inhale, I turn around and face my father. The hard, cold look in his eyes almost makes me chicken out but I need to do this. It’s the only way I can remove my father’s hold on me.

“I would like it if you…”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“If you would like to come to a…” I swallow hard.

“Spit it out, Elena. I have work to attend to. Things need to get done.”

“Why didn’t you ask me if I was all right?” I say instead. “After Aleksander kidnapped me. You never asked if I was all right.”

His eyes rake over me. “I can see you’re all right. What’s the problem? You’re always whining on and on about something. Get on with it or leave.”

I jump to my feet. “I would like to invite you to a poetry reading I’m doing later this week.”

The air in the room is compressing onto me, making me feel flat. The silence is deafening.

Father looks at me for a long, tense moment. What does he see? Himself as my mother made him believe or the man she had an affair with?

“A poetry reading?” he asks. “What poetry?”

“My… my own. There’s this place Maxim took me to once. You can read anything you’ve written. Anyone can join.”

“So it’s not prestigious if anyone can just do it.”

I flinch. “I mean… I’ve never read my poetry out loud before. I’m ready to do it now. It would be good for me. So I’m going to do it and I would like you and Mother to come. And Adriana of course.”

“Why would we come to such a thing as that? Just so you can make me look like a fool.”

“A fool?” I ask with a frown. “Why would you look like a fool?”

“Because my daughter writes poetry. It’s embarrassing. You’re lucky you’re married to a rich man otherwise you’d be a starving artist. You don’t have your sister’s grace. Lana was a performer. She actually contributed something. But you? You’re just a pathetic disgrace to my name.”

“Why do you have to be so mean to me?” I whisper. “Why could you never show me kindness? I was innocent. Anything that happened wasn’t my fault.”

“Elena,” Mother snaps.

Father looks between us with a knowing expression. “I will not go to your poetry reading. I will not listen to you read out loud the things you wrote about me. I read them. I know you’ve written vile things about me and this family. How can you call yourself a part of this family when you clearly hate it?”

“You made me hate it!” I scream.

He doesn’t even flinch. Just… no expression on his face. Anywhere.

“You made me hate it,” I say in a calmer tone. “Because of how you treated me. You made me feel this way. I only wanted to invite you because I thought it would be good for me. I want to put this family in the past but I can’t do that when you still have a hold over me. But you will never change. You will always hate me for something I did not do. You are the monster, Father.”

He walks right over to me and smacks me across the face. It’s so hard that I fall to the ground.

“Elena,” Mother gasps. “Gregory, don’t. Don’t hit her again.”

“You are no daughter of mine,” he snarls, pointing his fat finger in my face.

All the pain my father has caused me. All the anger. All the sadness. All the frustrations. All the loneliness. It hits me all at once.

Without even thinking, I push myself to my feet and turn to the lone bookshelf in the living room. My hands pick up one of the bookends – in the shape of a black stone – and I hurl it towards my father’s head. It collides with his temple and he stumbles back, falling to the floor.

“Elena!” Mother screams.