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In my defense, they had sheltered me from a lot of stuff, although it was obvious that shielding me from the brunt of this kind of life had been a horrendous idea. What would happen if the man holding me hostage got in trouble and he couldn’t protect me? Or if someone decided to harm me so as to provoke him? I would be collateral damage.
The thought had been haunting me for days and it sucked that there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. My only ray of hope was that Sebastian might get bored with me one day and throw me out of the penthouse. But that was highly unlikely. I had to be real as lying to myself would do me no good. He was devoid of compassion, so when I no longer served any purpose for him, he would kill me as payback. I was sure of it. My father had started the war, after all, and this man here would finish it.
Fact was, I was just a tiny cog in the machine. I was sure it irked Sebastian that my parents, my mother particularly, didn’t care much about me. I didn’t have close friends—as I said, I’d been sheltered. The old Marinka was lonely, the new one dreading the unknown. Maybe the latter was better. I couldfeelsomething. Something strong. I could be bold and reckless. And after it was all said and done, he’d throw me away like garbage and I’d be soon forgotten, carried away to the landfill of their memories.
Maybe that was my destiny.
At the end of the block, we took a left turn and drove down the busy street. I spotted two girls about my age hailing a taxi. They were laughing hard at something. Their arms were thrown over each other’s shoulders, one clutching her stomach as her belly ached with mirth.
Too soon, they disappeared from my view and my stomach clenched as I blinked back tears. Pangs of envy tore through me, lashing at every other pedestrian walking freely on the streets of Chicago on this breezy evening.
It had been only two weeks and already, I had forgotten what freedom tasted like. I was starting to worry I would eventually lose myself to this life I loathed. I could fall in the dark hole of drugs and blackmail, with no hope of redemption. I was so exhausted of wondering and speculating. To avoid going down this mental road, I conjured up memories from my past to remind myself of who I was, to ensure my moral compass was still intact.
I might have been lonely at times, but I lived my own life—at least on the surface—as one-note as it might have felt many times.
Usually, such thoughts led to guilt. I couldn’t help thinking this was my fault for taking my boring existence for granted. The universe must have thrown me in this nightmare to teach me gratitude. I wanted to go back to all the moments I felt unloved by my parents because they were caught up in their own lives, and just be content with the fact I was safe and secure. I wanted to take back all my worries, which now seemed infantile compared to what was at stake.
On this particular ride, my mind harked back to the summer after my high school graduation.
Dad was rarely home, usually gone for more than three weeks at a time. When he returned, it was for only a few nights, after which he travelled again. Whenever I complained to my mother, trying to get her on my side so she would plead my case for the both of us, she would give me the same explanation every time.
“Your father is a busy man.” She would mute the TV to accompany her statement with a stern stare. “He is striking deals with other businessmen in Europe. How do you think we are able to afford this house? Our holidays?” At this point, she would shake her head disapprovingly. “It’s certainly not by spending time with an ungrateful daughter.”
I would turn away in shame at first, seeing her point. But now that I know better, I realize the only reason why Dad wasn’t home most of the time was because he didn’t want to retire. He had to stay relevant in the field he’d chosen to play in. Besides, the fast money could be addictive.
That day, instead of letting myself be consumed by guilt and self-pity, I squared my shoulders and announced I was moving out. After seventeen years of being neglected by the people who’d conceived and birthed me—yeah, I was finding it increasingly hard to see them as ‘parents,’ although old habits die hard and I hadn’t bothered to figure out what else to call them—I was finally taking a stand.
Mother blinked. When she saw that I was serious, she let out a sarcastic laugh. “With what money?”
“I have been saving.” To compensate for his absence, my father would give me a fat allowance. Unlike Mother who bought designer clothes and booked spa appointments weekly with her girlfriends, I saved up pretty much all of it. In school, I preferred to sail under the radar so I didn’t have to change my wardrobe every few weeks. I kept pretty much to myself so I wouldn’t get caught up in drama and crazy situations. Nobody wanted to hang out with a shy introvert like me, anyway, and this suited me fine.
“Right.” She nodded, then shrugged. “But how long is it gonna last you? Groceries are expensive. If you ask me, you are better off living rent free with us. Anyway, you’d be back in a few weeks, I’d bet.” She spoke like I wasn’t worth the merest thought. This shouldn’t have surprised me, really.
With that, she pointed the remote back at the TV and resumed watching. Her flippant demeanor stung, though. Maybe one day she wouldn’t affect me this way—I hoped. Mine had been a futile attempt to see if my disclosure would spark her maternal instincts, but she proved me right and I’d already made up my mind.
Soon after, I found a studio in a less prestigious neighborhood and moved in the same day. That was where I lived for the next six years.
I worked hard at my art, even to the point of showcasing my paintings at galleries where I connected with other talented artists. To support my career, my father promised to sponsor my education in a private art school in Switzerland. Whether he did it out of guilt or he genuinely wanted to help, I had to admit it felt good that he was finally taking an interest in my life.
But the thrill was short-lived. A few days after I received the email from the institution saying that my application was successful, our family clashed with Sebastian and I was offered as the sacrificial lamb.
Just like that, my whole world turned on its axis.
Instead of taking a tour of the campus, here I was … trapped, imprisoned, enslaved … stuck in a limo going to God knew where. Irritation pricking at me, I glanced at Sebastian, my vow to give him the silent treatment forgotten. “Where are you taking me?”
He didn’t look up from his phone. His thumbs were gliding against the screen at an inhuman speed, his lush eyebrows pulled together in concentration.
“I report to school in a few weeks,” I went on. “Will you be done with me then? What are your plans for my future?”
That did it. He stopped typing and turned to stare at me, amusement rising to his eyes. Then, as quickly as it surfaced, the expression was replaced by a stringent glare.
“You will do as you are told,” he said curtly. “I’m sealing the deal of a lifetime so don’t even think of fucking it up.” He placed the phone on his lap and then bent to retrieve something from the briefcase. When his hand reappeared, he was holding a gun.
Stupid me and my big mouth!I’d just decided about how I needed to be more amenable and fly under his radar, but then I went and blew it.
“Listen, if you attempt to escape or spill my secrets to anyone, you are as good as dead. Don’t think for a second you’d get any special treatment my sworn enemies wouldn’t get.” His mouth curved in a devilish smile. “Not just you. Dearest Daddy, as well. So think about that, the next time you want to have an attitude.”
He pointed the gun at my chin. When it made contact with my skin, my heart stopped. He trailed it gently around my jaw, all the way to the pulse near my ear, then back to my chin. He bit his lip as I hitched a breath. For all intents and purposes, he was enjoying this. Being a ruthless monster. What else could I expect from a man who’d taken lives for every possession he had?
