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I fucking refuse.
This man has gotten the best of me for far too long.
“It appears the lashings have lost their effect, Giana.” My father spits the words like venom. “Should I switch tactics?”
I don’t reply.
He’s going to do whatever he wants regardless of my reaction.
Thwack!
This time, I jolt when the belt smacks me in the exact same spot he hit moments ago. No doubt, doing it on purpose. Trying to wound me as deeply as he can.
My father has always loved his payback.
I try to shrink as small as I possibly can, pushing my chest against my thighs and pressing my face into my kneecaps.
Let me disappear…just for a moment. Until this is all over.
My father knows the wedding dress he chose for me will cover my back, so he’ll do as much as he can for as long as he can. Nothing will stop him. And I don’t know how much more I can take.
He lands another blow, and my breath hitches, catches in my chest, and I can no longer bite into my lip. There’s a pool of blood in my mouth, and I can’t keep swallowing it. I’m so nauseated I can’t see straight.
Be his good little girl again. End this. Tell him you’ll do better.
A small, timid, and quiet voice battles against me.
Another ghost.
The scared little girl I was for so long…before Dante. Before that taste of freedom showed me that there was more to life than obeying and playing by the rules. She’s pleading with me to put an end to this. To promise my father I’ll be good.
But as much as I should take her advice in this moment…she’s gone.
My father continues to whip me with his belt, and I go somewhere else. Somewhere far away. I sink into those memories, and I stop feeling. My mind floats above it all, and I no longer feel the belt. Or the pain. Or the blood trickling down my throat.
Or how my heartbeat has slowed to a dull, low thrum in my chest.
“Did you know our minds can’t truly distinguish pain from pleasure?”
My mind drifts to those stolen moments in the restroom. Dante explaining the pain-versus-pleasure principle to me while he had me in a choke hold. I use his words to my advantage and pretend this is pleasure. My mind has it all wrong. The pain doesn’t exist.
Come on, endorphins, do your goddamn job. This is a fucking high.
“Father.”
My brother’s words cut into the memories, and suddenly, I feel it all. My skin burns, and I can no longer hold it in. I throw up, the contents of my stomach spewing from my mouth like a waterfall and landing all over my legs, my feet, and the floor beneath me.
“I knew you’d give in sooner or later. You’re not strong enough to withstand my fury, little girl.”
“Father.”
Niccolò’s voice cuts through the chill in the air again, and I swipe at my mouth with the back of my hand. I do my best to stay as still as I can, but suddenly, all of the pain I’ve been avoiding and blocking out hits me like a goddamn tidal wave. I crash to the floor. My face hits the cold concrete, and I wince.
Just fucking stop this!
The inner voice, my ghost, is getting angrier and angrier as my father’s wrath spirals out of control. He strikes me again, and I wince, rolling away from him.
“I don’t mean to disrespect you,” Niccolò says, “but the wedding is only a few days away, and we can’t give her to Martínez looking like this.”
