Chapter 4 - The Sound of Ruin
My father's face twitched. A terrifying silence settled over the small space between the four of us, even as the music continued to play merrily around us.
Nearby, cousins holding glasses of wine began to look away, pretending they couldn't see or hear the tension escalating. My brother, Tyler, sauntered over from the bar, a smirk plastered on his face, eagerly taking a sip of his drink as he waited for the show to start. In their eyes, I would always be the puppet, the girl born to be controlled by Frank Hale.
But the moment the word "No" escaped my lips, a dark, furious storm erupted in my father's eyes. He had never been refused by me, let alone in front of others. The hand squeezing my elbow released its grip, but in the very next second, his thick, iron-like fingers plunged directly into my styled hair.
"Frank!" Daniel roared, lunging forward.
But everything happened in a flash of slow-motion horror. I felt my scalp violently tear. The heels of my embellished shoes slipped on the polished floor. The sheer force of my father's pull was massive; he channeled all the rage of a desperate alcoholic into that single yank. His other hand slammed violently against the back of my head, driving my face straight down.
Crack!
The sound was more horrifying than any scream. My nose smashed against the cold marble. Pain exploded, blindingly white, behind my eyes. A numb sensation shot through my face, followed immediately by a warm, metallic rush of blood pouring over my lips and onto my pristine white gown.
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Someone screamed hysterically in the ballroom. Maybe it was a bridesmaid, maybe a guest, or maybe it was me. The elegant music abruptly cut off, replaced by the panicked gasps of the crowd.
I lay there, dazed, my vision blurred by blood and involuntary tears. The world spun wildly around me, leaving only the metallic scent of blood and a throbbing, white-hot pain.
