Trigger Warnings:
Sexual violence.
Self-harm.

Keaton Rhodes was a middle-aged man with a beard and round glasses he kept pushing up his nose. "Hello Alina, I'm Keaton, your social worker." He pushed past Angelo and held out his hand to me. I shook his hand, noticing the murderous look on Angelo's face.

"Hello," I said, offering a tight-lipped smile. Keaton nodded to Killian, glancing around the room. "You have a third brother, right? Where is he?"

"He's attending a college class; he couldn't be here," Angelo spoke, sounding very irritated. If Keaton noticed, he didn't let on. Instead, he nodded towards the upstairs. "Mind giving me a tour of the house?"

Angelo gave a short nod. "Follow me."

Keaton seemed impressed with the tour, Killian and I following them around like lost puppies. My brother had a cold glimmer in his eyes, analyzing every movement of the social worker. I didn't know why my brothers were so cold towards him, disliking him instantly.

As we moved from room to room, Keaton asked polite questions, commenting on the house's décor and how spacious it was. But I could see him taking mental notes, his eyes sharp and observant behind those glasses. We reached my bedroom, and I saw Angelo's jaw tighten.

"And this is Alina's room?" Keaton asked, stepping inside. He looked around, taking in the neatly made bed, the bookshelf filled with old and new books. "It's lovely. You must feel comfortable here, Alina."

"Yes, it's very nice," I replied, trying to sound sincere. I didn't want to give him any reason to doubt my words, knowing how my brothers would react if they thought I was unhappy.

We continued the tour, finally ending up in the living room. Keaton turned to me with a friendly smile. "How have you been settling in?" he asked, my brothers out of the room and in the kitchen. I wondered if they were eavesdropping. Knowing Angelo, I wouldn't doubt it.

"Good," I said, nodding a bit. I had nothing bad to say about my brothers. "They've been really supportive."

"That's great to hear," Keaton said, his tone genuine. He glanced at the kitchen, where Angelo and Killian were quietly talking. "You know, it's important to feel safe and supported in a new environment. If you ever need anything or feel uncomfortable, you can always reach out to me."

I nodded again, appreciating his concern but also feeling a slight unease. I didn't know why my brothers were so tense around him, but their hostility made me wary. "Thank you, Keaton."

He smiled and looked around once more before heading towards the kitchen. "Angelo, Killian, I appreciate the tour. You have a beautiful home."

Angelo nodded curtly. "Thank you. Is there anything else you need?"

Keaton shook his head. "No, that will be all for today. I'll be in touch for our next visit."

As he made his way to the door, Keaton paused and turned back to me. "Remember, Alina, if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

I nodded, giving him another tight-lipped smile. "Thank you, Keaton."

"What did he say to you?" Angelo asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Just asked how I was settling in," I replied quickly. "He was being polite."

"Good," Angelo said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We don't need any trouble from him. I don't like him."

"Why?" I asked, tilting my head.

Angelo shrugged. "His face is ugly."

"I'll leave you two to talk and go make lunch," Killian said, patting my head and left in the direction of the kitchen.

Angelo studied me, sighing. "Keaton said I have to enroll you in school," he stated, taking off his suit jacket. He flung it onto the railing, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. My heart thundered in my chest, the simple thought of going back to school making my stomach flip flop. "Come on, let's go to my office and we can pick out a school together."

He held out his hand and I took it, walking down the hall past the living room to his office. He swung my arm, making me cover my mouth as laughter bubbled out.

"What are you laughing at? It better not be me," he muttered, giving me a side glare. It made me laugh harder and he grinned. We stopped outside his office and he held the door open for me, making me duck under his arm to enter first.

"Sit anywhere. I'll show you the schools I've been researching," he said, grabbing his laptop from the desk. I choose the leather couch, picking up the decorative pillow and held it close to my stomach, a tense feeling overcoming me.

I swallowed whatever protest that stuck on my tongue and focused on the screen of Angelo's laptop as he lounged beside me, clicking on the first tab open, a schools website popping up.

+++

I had been in the kitchen when Soren sauntered in, tossing his backpack on the kitchen counter and opened the fridge. "How was the social worker?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder at me.

I shrugged, stirring the soup Killian had made for lunch. "Good I guess. He seemed impressed with everything so far ... except he mentioned school." He turned to face me.

"You don't like school?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.

"No ... I like school, but I don't like the idea of starting at a new school in the middle of the school year," I muttered, sighing.

He nodded. "I understand. It's overwhelming a bit, isn't it?" He gave a soft smile. "When our father died, I was sixteen. We moved from Italy to New York in the middle of the school year. It sucked, but I understand."

"You lived in Italy?"

"Yeah, we have a beautiful estate there. We go back every year for Christmas." He smiled, resting his elbows on the counter. "You will come with us this year, it'll be fun."

"Yeah."

"What school are you going to?"

I told Soren about the private academy, Bloomfield Academy, which I'd be attending in a week, the one Angelo had suggested. I'd been surprised my oldest brother let me choose the school I wanted to attend, and loved him more for it.

I had a love-hate relationship with school.

I loved it because I loved learning. I loved taking tests and getting high grades. I was intelligent and I knew it.

Knowledge was power.

I hated school because of the fucking politics. The drama. The rivalries and the haves and the have nots. The constant war between populars and the misfits. Most teachers stayed out of teenage politics and didn't do shit about bullying.

I walked down the hallway, reaching my locker at the end of beside the library. The hallways were quiet, everyone on their lunch or in class.

I had biology next so I had to trade my books, struggling to open my locker. Eventually I got it open. "Ooh, look who it is, girls," a familiar, taunting voice sneered from behind me.

I tensed, shoulders heaving with a dreaded sigh. "What do no you want, Caitlin?" I asked, turning around. Caitlin West, my bully, my tormentor. She liked to me how pathetic and weak I was. For some reason, since freshman year, she hated me and took it upon herself to punch, kick, insult, and spit at me in the halls, in the locker room. She spread rumours and lies about me. She was cruel and mean.

She smiled, her eyes cold, tilting her head. "Hmm. I think we should give you a new haircut ..." she said, glancing at her friends, "don't you think, girls?"

Caitlin produced a pair of scissors from her purse, waving them in the air. "Hold her," she ordered her two friends. Before I could react, both jumped at me. One pinned my arms, shoving me back until my head bounced against the wall. The other girl grabbed my hair, holding it straight for Caitlin.

She snipped away my hair as I pleaded for them to stop. Caitlin laughed as she chopped off my hair, spitting in my face when she finished, tucking the scissors back in her bag. The other girls let me go, Caitlin shoved me hard.

"You're pathetic. Go home and cry to mommy and daddy," she snarled, shoving my head into the wall again. "Come on girls, what a waste of fucking space."

Caitlin and her friends left, strutting down the hall, leaving me to pick up the clumps of hair and my books off of the floor. I felt disgusted, alone, and deeply sad.

"Alina?" Soren called, pulling me from the memory. He looked at me with worry, his eyes piercing mine. "Are you okay? You kinda zoned out on me there for a minute."

I tried to smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for uh, you know, talking."

His face softened. "Anytime bambina." He stood up and stretched out his arms. "I've got to go start a paper but you find me if you need anything, okay?"

I nodded. "I will, thanks Soren."

+++

I spent the next day in my room, hiding under the blankets. I felt really low, my hands trembling, my thoughts in a dark cycle. His voice kept puncturing my thoughts, leaving me at his mercy even in death.

"We're gonna have some fun, sweetheart," he said kneeling on the bed and producing a pair of handcuffs. "Your mother won't be home until morning, she had a business meeting out of the city."

I gulped. "No, please, dad -"

"Be quiet, Alina," he snapped, cuffing my hands to my bed post. "Spread your legs." I shook my head, struggling in the handcuffs. He smirked and reached in his jeans back pocket and without warning, he held it to my leg, electric shocks tearing up my leg and spine.

"Spread your fucking legs, Alina. Don't make me do it again," he sneered and I did as he said, afraid. He ripped off my pyjama shorts, throwing them to the floor and he shook his head with disgust in his eyes when he noticed my recent cuts. "I told you to stop this, you're ruining your perfect body."

"Please," I cried, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Don't do this." But my pleads didn't stop him, in fact, I think it turned him on more.

"Alina? Are you okay?" Angelo knocked on my bedroom door, pulling me from my thoughts like Luca had earlier. I fled my bed to the bathroom, dropping to my knees in front of the toilet and vomiting until there was nothing left in my stomach. "Alina?"

"Y-yeah, I'm okay," I yelled back, hoping he didn't come in.

Shaking, needing a relief, I opened the cupboard door and took out the razor blade. Twisting it around my fingers; pulling my shirt and pressed it against my stomach. Blood oozed from the wounds, dripping onto the cold tile. I sucked back a cry, squeezing my eyes shut at the pain.

A sob wracked my body and I slammed my hand over my mouth.

"Lina, can I come in?" Angelo asked, knocking again. Why wouldn't he just go the fuck away? He tried to open the door, I heard the knob jiggling, but I locked it last night. "Alina, unlock the door."

I couldn't, I couldn't let them find out what happened to me - it was disgusting what my so-called father did to me. "Alina, open the door or I'll break it down."

I swallowed, cutting deeper, not answering my brother.

I heard him slam the door, once, twice, three times - before it burst open. Angelo called for me, before entering the bathroom. I held the blade tight in my hand, breaking into a sob as Angelo dropped to his knees beside me.

+++

Thank you for reading.
I know this might have been difficult to read.
Angelo and the others will finally know about Alina and her secrets, but it is still a long journey of recovery for her.

- Charlie 🧡