Chapter 5 - The Devil’s Smile
Through the intense dizziness, I forced my trembling hands against the freezing floor to lift my head slightly. My vision was distorted, but I could see the faces around me clearly. Guests were backing away, covering their mouths in horror. The security guards were starting to move.
But the image that burned itself into my mind, deeper than any physical pain, was my mother’s face. Patricia stood there, looking down at her own daughter lying in a pool of blood on the floor. She didn't scream. She didn't rush to help me. There was no shock, no horror in the eyes of the woman who had given birth to me.
Instead, she was smiling.
A cold, satisfied, and venomous smirk. That smile said everything: That's right, you little brat. You belong on the floor. That is your true place. She smiled as if the rebellious doll had finally been broken, subdued, and put back where she belonged.
My father crouched down beside me, his face flushed red with anger but also filled with triumph. He grabbed a lock of my hair, pulling it lightly. "Ask him for it now, you little bitch," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice.
But he was wrong. Patricia was wrong. Tyler was wrong.
May you like
They thought physical violence would break me just as it did when I was fifteen. They didn't know that I had spent the last three years learning never to cry in front of wolves. Tears are a sign of weakness, the very blood wild beasts smell before they tear you apart. I did not cry.
Daniel fell to his knees beside me. His entire body shook with a towering rage, a fury I had never seen in this gentle man. His hands hovered in the air, trembling, terrified to touch me because he was afraid of causing me more pain. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his neck stood out.
