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I can’t.
At night, my father’s on duty, and that means he sits and drank himself stupid, and my father is not one of those peaceful drunks who just goes to sleep when he is pigged out. No, the first time I finally drew enough courage and tried to escape, he saw and tried to rape me.
His own daughter. He was so far gone he couldn’t tell who I was. Of course, mother heard it, and I was punished. Not for running away.
No, she beat me for coming onto her husband.
As if I ever would…
Fucking lunatic…bitch…monster…
But that night, I lost my fight. I gave up too easily, scared that I wouldn’t make it out alive out there in the real world. After all, I was an underage girl with no education and no money. I know I am pathetic and weak for it, but I was so terrified of the unknown that rotting in this hell seemed like a safer option.
Until two months ago. Until some sense came back to me, and I took my life into my own hands for once. Until the cute boy I always saw at the small grocery store told me to meet him in the back aisle where they sold dairy.
Until he started talking to me every time I came in, and we met up at the aisle.
Until one day, I went to that store with my father instead of my mother, and I followed Jonny beyond that aisle into his breakroom and gave myself to him.
It felt like such a small victory, and that in itself should be pathetic, but I’m the one who decided who got my virginity. I made that choice.
That choice that granted me a new purpose…
I was determined, and nothing was going to break me this time.
I will get away from here. Even if it is in a coffin. I will do what it takes to be free. Even if that means burning down into a pile ofashes. So, when my mother breaks down through my door a few minutes later, I follow her; I met the man she sold me to for the night.
But I’m not able to break free until I’m at a cliff. Barely hanging on to life.
It wasn’t until I’m forced to jump off it…
Chapter twenty-four
Kira
When I was fifteen years old, just before my final night, I read about a phoenix in one of those library books I had borrowed and never returned. I still have them, in fact. And I repaid that library tenfold as soon as I could, but that is not the point.
The phoenix. The bird is the point.
I loved the idea of a rebirth. I loved it so much that I grew drunk off of it. Desperate. And I did it.
Because I always get what I want.
Except for my memories to stay where they belong. Those bastards don’t obey my wishes. They sneak in during the middle of the night—or more precisely, three-forty-seven AM—and wreak havoc in my head.
Wiping the cold sweat off my forehead, I toss the damp sheets to the side and jump out of my bed, rushing to the closet. To one small box tucked on top of my black suits.
The one box I haven’t reached for since I put it there, but suddenly, I need to make sure it is still inside it.
The sight of an old piece of fabric should not make my breath catch, and the nonexistent heart skip a beat. But it does.
What am I doing? Why am I willingly digging into the past? Furious with myself, I shut the box closed, stuff it back up where it belongs and stride over to the shower. The hot water soothing over my tense muscles. There is no point in going back to sleep only to be accosted by those demons once again. So, I dress up in one of my black Prada suits and go to the only place that has the ability to chase all the hurt away.
My restaurant.
It is so quiet and peaceful at four-twenty AM. The three of the magical floors I created are blanketed in silent darkness. The clitter-clack from forks and spoons is gone. The kitchen is humming with anticipation of the incoming day, but for now, it greets good old me while I disturb its peace.
I slip out of my black armor, replacing it with the chef’s jacket, my old, worn jeans and twisting my hair in a bun on top of my head. I only do this when I am all alone. When there is no one to see my secrets.
