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“My burning desire for revenge.” Her eyes darkened at her statement as she took an inhale and let it out slowly. “To finally achieve what the majority of fuckers hoped I’d never accomplish. These people wished for my death, for my early crucifixion, all because I’m destined to rise. I was treated like trash. Pushed into despair. The agony my own Papa Dearest had to put me and Onyx through, all to prepare us for this time where we’d have to be forced to face our true enemies who want us to remain nobodies.”
She bit her lip and shook her head.
“I resented Roberto for so damn long. Held so much anger…hatred…just so fucking much against him because why would a father do such horrendous things to his only child? There were times where I’d see the true emotions hidden in the hues of his eyes, the immense sadness that would flicker when I couldn’t even move a muscle after hours of torture. Whenever I took hours to recover, I took a moment to reminisce and ask myself why he’d look so sad in the end when in the beginning of every session, all I saw was anger and disappointment. I questioned it so many times but couldn’t find an answer.”
Closing her eyes, she squeezed my hand gently.
“Then I’d wonder about my mother. If she was simply a chained whore in Father’s basement or if she never wanted me. Now that I know my mother is alive, well, and a queen of an empire as powerful as the Phoenixes, I wonder what childhood she endured to be okay with knowing what I’d gone through in Roberto’s care. When I was pushed off that cliff, did she hear about it? Or whenever I accomplished something in the business field, did she ever keep track or feel proud of me?” Her eyes opened as she looked deep in thought. “Then there’s the fact that I have a half sister. One who seems so selfless in nature but carries a dark side she tries to hide from the world because she’s never had a choice. I didn’t like the way she preyed on Arthur, but what if that’s been her way of defending herself in the environment she’s in? Having to be judgemental and cruel with offerings of punishment with cooperation because that’s how it is as the princess of an empire that doesn’t just delve into the realms of the mafia, but harvests some of the most powerful wolf royals and hybrids. She lost out on being raised next to her sister. Instead, she became a placeholder. One that sat upon my chair to keep it nice and toasty for my arrival…and now she’s going to be tossed like trash because she did a good job at her duty?”
She looked so troubled as her eyes further darkened with anger.
“It’s all so fucked up. My family is a fucking mess, Milo. I’m about to be acknowledged as royalty in a few hours and I’ve never gotten a chance to talk with my mom, my half sister looked as if she’s going to disappear the moment I take the mantel she’s kept safe on my behalf, and Papa Dearest is still in a fucking coma. I shouldn’t even be so upset that he’s not going to see me walk down that runway, and yet I’m so…” she trailed off as her eyes blurred with tears. “I’m so fucking mad…because I want to see the look of pride on his face. I want the man I’ve aspired to prove wrong and show how strong I’ve become to see the final verdict of all the bullshit committed against me. For him to acknowledge…that despite fucking everything…I surpassed his expectations. It’s so fucking stupid, and yet it boils my very blood that someone put him in a coma so he wouldn’t see this grand finale. So I’d simply have to carry another block of trauma because of someone else.”
“Someone put him in a coma,” I quietly whispered and reached out to wipe away her initial tears.
She slowly nodded. “None of the doctors will confirm it, but you don’t need to be a powerful witch or magic user to sense the lingering energy around his frame. I’ve been avoiding visiting him…not just because we’ve been trying to survive…but cause I’m scared.”
“You’re scared he’ll disappear when you need him the most,” I summed up and wrapped my arms around her. “Frightened that now that you’ve made it, he’ll slip from your grasp.”
“Stupid, right?” She tried to play it off as if it weren’t affecting her so negatively. “Like this has to be some reverse psychology shit. I shouldn’t be upset and crying because my abusive asshole of a father won’t be present at something that feels like I just graduated from the school of survival. That I won’t hear him admit he’s proud of me and that despite everything…the punishments…the endless torture…the spikes of expectations and hardship of responsibilities, he loves and cares for me. His only fucking child…”
She fought so hard not to cry, but I wouldn’t let her hold those emotions in. I patted her back gently as I whispered, “It’s not stupid at all, Princess. I’d want exactly that…and more. I’d want to be verbally acknowledged and praised for making it. For going through every challenge and reaching the top of the mountain. You have every right to be sad…angry…and heartbroken, Princess. Every fucking right.”
She cried then, long and hard as if mourning what she knew wouldn’t come to pass. I hid my emotions because I didn’t want her to feel just how angered I was at her misery. To get a feel of what it was like to be in her shoes and imagine the heaviness of physical, emotional, and mental trauma she’d had to carry her whole fucking life.
All she wanted was validation from the parent who had to become a villain to make her into the strong woman she was today. It wasn’t much to ask, and yet she thought it was impossible to achieve.
What if it wasn’t so impossible?
She cried for minutes, until the tears stopped falling and only whimpers remained. I hugged her for as long as she wanted me to, and when she pulled back, she wiped away her tears and took a few sniffy breaths.
“Dimitris ordered you to comfort me, didn’t he?” She sounded annoyed at the thought and a cute little pout formed on her lips. It was far too adorable, which was why I was smiling like a dumb fool.
“He told me I should take you on a walk through the garden,” I reasoned. “He put a lot of effort there. You know he loves giving you roses and shit. Though, I feel it would have been a nice walk to go on with Neo or Onyx.”
“You wouldn’t want to go?” she asked.
“It’s not that I don’t want to go, just that with my emotions, I’d probably kill all the poor flowers and they don’t deserve such cruelty,” I elaborated. “Which is why it’s better if I let that energy out and be productive.”
“By killing our assassins,” she concluded with a silly grin. “You’re like a multipurpose flower enhancer and pesticide for humans.”
“I’m not going to imagine that,” I concluded as I brushed her flushed cheeks and gave her a firm kiss. “Do you feel a bit better?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I felt like I was on the verge of exploding, or something destructive, I guess. I don’t know. This…Everything is a lot, Milo.” She meant those words. “I’m scared I won’t be able to take it. That…I’ll snap into something dangerous that will destroy everything I love.”
“We won’t be having that,” I assured her and ran my hands through my hair. “We just need to find a balance between the chaos and tranquility.”
“And pleasure,” she added, which made me laugh.
“If I didn’t have the itch to kill, I’d take that as an invitation to fuck you against that lovely white wall and hope Neo comes waltzing by so he can paint a nice picture of it to keep forever.”
“You’d just throw it in Dimitris's office to bother him,” she noted with an eye roll. How could I not laugh at the possibilities?
“I’d put a spell on it so that he wouldn’t be able to touch or take it down,” I quietly emphasized, and she was hollering as she shook her head.
“He’d kill you.”
“Not if he wants that painting down,” I teased.
