Zara

After

The hours had gone by and I had yet to get up. My skin pruned from the amount of time I sat, but there was no rush for me to leave. Silence wrapped around me, except for the dripping of the bathtub faucet. A singular water droplet would fall into the tub every few minutes. My eyes focused on it, as it struggled to fill up until finally- splash- into the great oasis that was my black clawfoot tub.

Once, I would have sat in the bathtub for hours, filled with the warm embrace of the water while the bathroom was filled with steam worthy of being considered a sauna. I would have curled up with a book on my tray table, swirling around the glass of champagne in my hand while my Au Pair fed me chocolate-covered strawberries. I would be warm, knowing that once I got out, I would be pampered until they left me feeling like a new doll ready to be displayed in a toy store.

Now, I look around the place I hardly recognize. I clutch my hands, the feeling of alienation strong. I never wanted to run away from a place more and that's when the sinking feeling of dread settles down in my lower stomach. How can I face him now? I hated that I finally understood my mother, but I would never understand why she had left me behind.

The hungry greed of the house for me to stay gnawed at me to refocus and remember who I was. After all, I was the heiress to the Russian Mafia, and an heiress had to be strong even when she was weak. In this field, there was no time for slip-ups.

But I needed a moment, he had to understand that right? I sigh, then again, when did he ever? My teeth pull at the corner of my lips. How much more will this little act cost me?

I sank deeper into the cold, blood-stained water, covering half of my face while the rest remained submerged under the weight of denial even though it was infused with my sins. My hair pooled around me, allowing me to look like a crocodile lurking and waiting for its prey before it snapped and took you in its claws.

My hands slice through the water, making it ripple under my touch. The sight before me gave the illusion of a beautiful sunset dipping into the vast ocean in the evening hours, right before twilight came and only hours before a new day.

However, this water tainted in red was not to be admired, but feared, just like I feared it on the inside. The water contained all my grief, from the death I carried in my hands, my blood, and the tears of grief while my naked body carried the blood of someone I once loved dearly.

I shook my head in denial even though the evidence was all over me. It wasn't supposed to end this way, and yet it had.

Before

"The first time I laid eyes on Zara, I knew I was doomed." He gives me a wide smile, his light brown eyes filled with warmth, the sun making them glow like pools of sweet honey. The kind of soft, kind, gentle eyes I could see myself getting lost in forever. "I knew you were a forbidden fruit, but seeing you in the nightgown one night, well, I knew I had to try my luck." He always told me about the first time he laid eyes on me.

I sat by the fountain in the center of our small garden, like I did countless times before. Running my hand under the cool water and watching the koi fish swim around it. My black hair swaying in the wind like my wedding dress did right now. He arrived moments before, being a part of my father's organization, our eyes locked as I lay under the silver lights of the moon. "The moonlight illuminated your beauty that I couldn't get you out of my mind. So I took the risk one night. Only to be surprised that you returned my affection. I want you and don't plan to let you go." He takes a deep breath, "Till death do us part Zara."

I give him a clenched smile as I nod in agreement. "Till death do us part," I echo. I give him a smile that would match the Arctic Ocean before I lean into him. Our lips are about to touch before the sinister and cruel clapping followed by the wicked laugh I was too familiar with breaks the love spell. With horror in my features, I turn to look at the man responsible for the fear wedged deep in my gut, my skin, and my heart.

He looked just like he did when I was younger. He had the same suave and charming aura, pressed suit, black hair, deep onyx-tainted eyes with flecks of malice, and the same easy grin as if he was ready to read me a bedtime story. My breath caught in my throat as I clutched tighter to Matteo's hands that gripped mine in a bone-crushing hold. He was as scared of my father as I was. He wasn't supposed to know about this. How did he find out?

My eyes shift nervously to Matteo who is transfixed on my father's three black dogs who snarled at us- barring their vicious and bloodthirsty teeth, barking almost as loud as my dad's steady clapping. The clap was as thunderous as lighting in the middle of a hail storm. His grin was easy and carefree, enjoying the fear he instilled into his daughter and her lover.

There were many moments I couldn't believe he was the same guy who held my hand as we skipped down the gravel pathway, the one who laughed at my silly mistakes like confusing sugar with salt, the one who would give me a water gun and wait by the door to drench my mother when she walked in, and the guy who would do anything to see me smile. Now, he was pure T&T, ready to explode at any moment. Fear and death followed anywhere he set foot in. He relished in the blood of his enemies and their innocent families.

Yet, underneath the rotting scent of bodies, his need to protect and control me was still overwhelming.

"Seams congratulations are in order," his voice is velvety smooth, like the red velvet wedding cake Matteo made for us. His eyes are trained on Matteo

"Daddy," my voice is constricted as my breathing goes rigid. His eyes become narrow slits as they watch Matteo with a reptilian focus. As if he could see through his body with X-ray vision and see each pump of blood his heart unleashed to his body, every inspiration and expiration his lungs did, and how his muscles tensed. It was as if he had a sixth sense for these things. His eyes move from Matteo and land on me with an icy glare.

"I'll give you one more chance, mi niña, come stand by your Papa."

"Daddy, please," I pleaded with him through the lump in my throat. He was giving me an out but when I looked at Matteo, I knew the same offer didn't extend to him. He raises an eyebrow in expectation, but my feet stay rooted to the floor.

"Jefe, please, let me explain," Matteo pleads and drops my hand as he approaches him. I watch with an agape mouth as he approaches my dad and gets down on his knees, his head hanging low, hands classed together, praying for his forgiveness.

My dad lets out a chuckle before he points the knife in his hands at Matteo's body as he addresses me. "Ves? Respecto. Something you never gave me."

My eyes well up with tears of grief as I question into the air, "Matteo?"

Those warm honey brown eyes turn to me with sadness as he gives me a defeated smile. "I'm sorry Zara. I love you, but I can't disobey your father."

"You told him?" My heart breaks at the betrayal.

"I had to. You understand, right?" I didn't. For a guy who was under the leadership of my father, feared as the rest of them, equally as savage and cunning, he crumbled too easily.

My dad's footsteps sound into the peaceful atmosphere. The birds sing with no care as he grabs Mateos sandy brown hair and lifts his head to look into his merciless eyes. He holds the knife in his hands and pure panic floods my system. I couldn't watch as he killed the man I loved. The one I could see a future with. The one I was married to. My feet move in their own accord and I leap in front of him.

"Daddy- No-" my voice is drowned out by a scream. My scream of agony as the pain ripples through me. My hands go to the knife lodged in my side as I meet his cold gaze, and he tilts his head at me in surprise before he flings me to the side. Matteo is running as I watch, perched in a nearby tree, my hand pressing down on the cut below my rib cage. I knew my father's aim was perfect, so I knew this wouldn't kill me but leave a nasty scar. A reminder to never cross my father.

Yet, like a defiant child, I run after him. Turning once to see as my dad loosened the ropes in his hands and the dogs sprinted like cheetahs after a gazelle. They ignore me and gain on Matteo swiftly and take him down with the same graze of one. Two go for his calves, ripping out a chunk and throwing it. Matteo's knees buck and he falls. I watch in horror as the center one, Tybolt, comes to stand by him as the others continue to claw at him, ripping his skin with their sharp nails. Matteo's silent pleas to my father travel in sound waves before they are officially smothered out by Tybolt who grabs a chunk of his neck and rips it open.

"Nooo-" I yell and find myself getting down on my knees and trying to close the gush of blood coming from his neck. It's of no use as Matteo lays in front of me, looking at me with dead eyes- dead.

The tears stream down my face as I move my hands to his rosy cheeks and hug him towards me. The once-white wedding dress is now a color palette of red. I'm about to close his eyes in honor of his memory before I'm yanked up by my father who holds me at arm's length.

"You. Don't. Get. To. Destroy. This. Family-" his slaps land hard on my cheek as he emphasizes each word with heavy breaths before he eases up and finishes his sentence, "This family destroys you."

With that, he dumped me like a sack of flour and began wiping away my blood in his hands with his handkerchief, as if it was never there to begin with.

"Daddy-" my voice is filled with agony as I watch his retreating figure walk away from me. He whistles and I watch as the dogs stand at attention and leave Matteo's disembodied body on the ground as they walk back to him. Tybolt, the most vicious one, carrying a piece of his arm and with it- a piece of me.

Now

I make out the small pitter patterns of my Au Pair's tiny steps as she makes her way to the door before her equally soft knocks ring through the broad bathroom. She quietly opens the door, the hinges creaking, and pokes her head in. She looks at me as I avoid her eye contact.

"Come now," Bealliux says.

"No-" I deadpan, not wanting to leave the safety the tub provided.

"Your daddy is waiting on you. He even dismissed company today."

I look over at the woman who helped raise me. She moved here when she was 22 and I was 7, at that time my mother had just fled. Bealliux didn't expect to stay with us but given who my father was, leaving was never an option either. It also helped that she was fond of me. She was fluent in Russian but wanted to practice English, so that's what we spoke. Her words came out broken, not always, just sometimes.

She stretched out a hand for me and I took it. Struggling, I stand up, my hands instantly going to the once white-as-snow bandage, on top of the sutures done under it, now filled with blood. My nose sniffles slightly as the cold breeze of the outside house enters my cozy cocoon of solitude. I watch as Bealliux lets out a small gas as she looks at me but instantly turns her face neutral.

She wasn't the one who found me. It was another one of my dad's men who carried me into the house and made the doctor expertly stitch me up. He ripped the wedding dress off in one quick fluid motion before throwing it to the guy, knowing he would go and burn it. I watched him retreat with it in his hands as the doctor began to work on me, my undergarments the only decent covering as the rest was bare. But I couldn't find it in me to care. Even when he offered me a drink of alcohol for the pain, I managed to shake my head, wanting to feel the pain. Wanting to drown in it. Wanting to remember I was human.

Bealliux helps me out of the tub and walks me to my soft beige carpet. My feet instantly feel the softness brush against it and tremble at the familiarity. I look over at my glimmering baby blue duvet and know that the cotton will be like heaven on my fingertips. My fingers twitch beside me to give in. I could get dressed in the finest material from silk to satin, brush my hair, and plaster on a fake smile. I would go downstairs, pretend everything was fine and back to normal like I always did, and eat the food and drink that would be so divine, Dionysus would approve.

Bealliux wraps me up in a soft cotton robe, allowing a bubble of bitter laughter to escape my chapped lips. From this angle, I can see my reflection. My tan skin seems dull as if deprived from the sun for years, my lips are cracked, and the only color on my face is the red mark that seemed to glow with his handprint.

"Why do you protect him?" I ask her, my words are filled with acid as I regard Bealliux who peels away the wet cloth and dries it, pulling out a new pad.

I wince at the pain but don't look away, waiting. "I protect you," she responded with a sigh. I want to wrap my arms around her and weep into her shoulder, but instead, I stand up straighter. The only reason Bealliux has survived for so long is because I have shown impassivity toward her, especially in front of him. However, when she goes to pull away, my hands instantly grab her wrist.

My eyes plead with her light brown ones, filled with the warmth of a mother I never got. "Then please-" I lick my lips and lower my voice for only her to hear, "help me." Not wanting to risk anything else, I leave it at that and watch her eyes widen slightly before continuing to dress me.

I knew I was asking a lot. Asking her to risk not only my life but her own. It was a gamble, but dammit, I wanted to take it. Taste freedom on my tongue for once.

Bealliux works swiftly with her nimble fingers and in minutes, I am dressed in a gold dress like the one from Belle in Beauty and the Beast, with roses and thorns stitching across the front, and sleeveless. The black heels gave me more height in my already 5'6 frame. Then, she worked quickly on making a waterfall braid, my curls falling perfectly, tying the strands together in the back with a gold hairpin. I give her a small smile before walking down to the dining hall.

My breath instantly hitches as I look at what my dad prepared. There was a huge turkey in the center, rolls of bread in baskets, different pieces of cake all around and so much wine I could get drunk from looking at it. But my gaze doesn't take notice of any of that as I take the man at the far end of the table giving me a polite smile and next to him, the disfigured body of Matteo. Nausea threatens to spill, but taking a deep breath, I push it away.

That; 's what he wanted. He wanted me to break, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of watching what we both knew he had already done- broken me beyond repair.

I give him a smile in return and take my seat at the other side of the table, sipping a glass of wine towards him in greeting as I say, "Beautiful weather we're having today."

He tips his wine glass at me in response, an approving glimmer in his eyes. "It really is. Fit for a wedding indeed." He elbows Matteo's body and I watch as his head lulls down, covering the huge gap in his neck. However, his dull eyes stare into me and I find it hard to swallow my food. "Problem?" my sick fuck of a dad asks with a small smile on his lips.

I take a sip of the sweet wine and shake my head with a polite smile. "None at all."

My father chews the turkey leg, his jaw slightly locked, as his eyes bore into mine. "You know, it's a pity you didn't last married very long."

I let out a giggle. "Well, I hope next time- the groom lasts at least a full 24 hours."

But my dad is in no mood to be humored and continues his tangent. "I mean- what made you possibly think you could hide this from me? Honestly, what was the plan? You would get married and live happily ever after- forgetting about your old dad here."

"It was never like that," I told him.

"But why?" his eyes are filled with hurt, "I only want what's best for you. I have protected you and given you everything."

I want to yell at him that he hasn't. That keeping me by his side and away from finding happiness was no way to live. That making me who I am was more damaging than helping. That he broke me in the name of protection. But I don't say any of that.

However, I knew my father and knew this could only end worse if I let it. So, instead, I nod, trying to placate him I say, "I know Daddy. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "No. You went too far this time Zara. I'm thinking of a fitting punishment."

"You punished me enough already," I raise my voice as I stand up, anger rising in me.

"By killing your lover? Not in the slightest."

"Don't, please, I'm sorry."

"We'll speak again tomorrow. Rest now, I can't stand looking at you," he sneers at me as his hands squeeze around the glass in his hands. I watch it break and the blood-red liquid drip down, flashes of that afternoon entering my mind. It was all so fresh and raw that my heart clenched as my eyes tried to avoid Matteo's body and those eyes that would haunt me forever.

I was about to walk out when my father cleared his throat. A universal sign that he wasn't completely done just yet.

"Yes, Daddy?" I ask in the softest voice I can muster.

"Take him and burn his body. He is your husband after all," his eyes level to meet mine from his clenched fist that not only bleeds wine but his own blood, "you should stand by him until his death anyway. It's only proper."

I gulp and nod my head as I scurry to grab Matteo's body. Pain and anger course through me like hot molten lava, burning my insides as I trudge along the pathway and into the patio. I make it a few feet away from the mansion when my feet finally give up.

I feel his presence like a parasite on me. That was the nature of our relationship, he would always take and take and I could only give in every single thing. He held the power, a true king in a bone-carved throne.

He hands me the gasoline and matches. Diligently, I start, wanting nothing more than to forget this night happened.

I watch his body go up in flame and smother a whimper with my hand. Matteo's eyes stare at me, reminding me of everything that will never happen anymore. No more hallway kisses, no more hypnotizing gazes, and no more hope of a happy ending. It all went up in flames, just like him.

"Siempre me tendrás a mi, mi niñita," (You'll always have me, my little girl) his arm drapes over mine, and my right-hand finds him as I nod.

"I know Daddy," I tell him with a small smile as he guides us back inside.

"I love you," he tells me.

I squeeze his hand, "I love you too."

With our goodbyes, I return to my room to continue watching from my balcony as Matteo's body burns under the moonlight with a new resolve. I was going to bring down my father.

As I lay in my big bed, under the satin sheets, a small smile played on my lips. See, my daddy was the type of monster kids aren't told about, the kind that hides in plain sight and lures you in before he ends you.

And I was Daddy's little girl after all. 

>>>>

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