Page 5 of Rocco's Atonement


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CHAPTERTWO

GUINEVERE

The limo pulls upin front of the building. “Take us to the back service entrance,” my father orders the driver, and we circle the block to get to the alley that leads to the service entrance. It’s the only entrance I’m allowed to enter and exit.

The limo pulls to a stop and my father looks at Milton. “Get her upstairs. Don’t stop. Don’t talk to anyone. Meet me in my office.”

“Yes, sir.” Milton grips my arm and I cringe in pain. I bite my tongue so I don’t cry out as he drags me from the car.

Just before the door closes, my father leans out. “And, Milton, no new bruises before I have a chance to talk to her.” He looks Milton in the eye.

My father and brother are the same height, but the physical similarities end there. Where Milton has dark hair like my mother’s family, my father has light brown hair and a receding hairline. He’s also thinner. Milton works out in the gym all the time.

My brother pushes me through the door in front of him. I step up to the elevator and push the button. This is the second elevator of the two main ones. It comes to this floor and will only open on the button of the floor you push. It’s private so that service people can’t mingle with the owners or stop on all the floors. They have to have a key or be directed to the floor. I have a key because of my job. I slip it out of my now ruined purse and push the penthouse floor.

“Who was the man, Guinny?”

I keep my eyes downcast as Milton advances on me and pushes me into the corner. He grips the hair at the side of my head and tips my head back to look at him. I bite my lip hard from the pain and the need to remind him he isn’t supposed to hurt me.

“Answer me, ugly, or I’ll make it worse for you.”

“I just met him.” My voice cracks. “He helped me.” I don’t say more.

“Why did he call you Ever? Do you like him?” He leans down and licks the side of my face. I cough and try not to gag. “You will be mine.” Vomit hits the back of my throat and burns, but I hold it in my mouth. Since I was sixteen, he’s been touching me and saying these things. It’s wrong; I’m his little sister. But I can’t tell anyone. I tried once and my mother beat me bad, then Milton hurt me for being a tattletale.

“Please don’t, Milton,” I beg. It shows my hand, but I can’t take too much more today. Between the pain from the attack, the fear, and even the feelings Rocco evoked in me, my emotions are running wild.

“I like it when you beg, little slut.” His saliva slides down the side of my face. I can’t stop myself, I reach up and wipe at it fiercely.

The bell dings when we reach our floor. I push past him as he chuckles, and I make my way to my father’s office. It’s a bedroom they turned into an office years ago. I enter and stand to the side. I can’t take a seat like Milton does. Within these walls I’m not family; I’m the help.

“What the hell happened to her? Is it true?” My mother walks into the room; her dyed blond hair is hanging around her shoulders. Her face doesn’t scrunch up. In fact, it doesn’t move at all from all the Botox and fillers she has had done. Her plump, overfilled lips stick out from her face. She’s dressed in a red spaghetti strapped jumper. Her excessively large, fake boobs are barely contained. I lower my eyes because she’ll smack me for looking at her.

“What do you mean? She was mugged.”

“It’s all over the social media pages. They said a secret Chambers family member was attacked. It’s out in the open about her. How are we going to contain this?” Mother’s voice gets shriller the more she talks. My head throbs from the concussion and how loud she’s yelling.

“I’ll take care of it, Carmen. Don’t worry about any of it.” Father’s voice comes from the entrance.

“Everyone out,” he orders, and I turn to leave. “Except you, Guinevere.” I stop in fear. Turning around to face him, I keep my head lowered.

When the door snicks closed, he advances on me.

“You will not leave here again until further notice. Why did you tell them who I was? Why, Guinevere? You’ve exposed this family to scandal, and I’ve told you what would happen if you did that again.”

“Please, George,” I beg as I raise my head. He smacks me with an open palm. Pain bursts along my already battered face. My head whips to the side, but I turn back and take the backhand that comes next. His ring catches on a cut on my face, opening it up more, leaving more scars.

“Now, leave. You can rest for the evening, but come morning you will be working.”

“Yes, sir.” I turn and walk out. I use my sleeve to sop up the blood dripping from my face. I make my way to the housekeeper’s office, then down the stairs to the small room with an attached bathroom.

I step through the door and push my chair up against it to keep anyone out while I shower and clean myself up. I’m not allowed to lock them out, but I need this little bit of protection. I know that Milton will be making an appearance later. I saw the jealousy in his eyes when Rocco touched me. I make it to my small bathroom before I drop down and immediately lose everything in my stomach, which isn’t much. I vomit until I dry heave. My body aches more now. I stand on shaky legs and strip down. My body is covered in the scars my family has given me.

I was the mistake.

The oops.

The third child they didn’t want. That’s the only thing I can think of to explain their hate. My mother wanted a perfect son and daughter. She got them, then had me.

I push my aching face into the water. Even the stream of water hurts, but I close my eyes and think about anything else.

“Oh, my little Guinevere, the brave little princess,” a soft voice says to me. I can’t make out her face, but she’s holding her arms out to me. I reach for her, and she pulls me into her chest. The smell of lilacs and sunshine come from her skin, and I smile.

The scene floats away as I hear banging on the outer door. I rush through the rest of my shower and slip on a pair of loose sweatpants and a T-shirt. When I step out of the bathroom, the door is still rattling.

“Open up, cockroach,” Milton growls through the door. I walk to it, but I don’t move the chair. I won’t let him touch me again.

“Go away, Milton.” I hate the nickname he gave me when I was a small child. He said it was because I wouldn’t die. I didn’t understand it back then. But from the numerous times he’s thrown me down the stairs or beat me, I can imagine he’s tried to kill me.

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