I think back on the last twelve hours, marveling at how instantaneously circumstances can change. Had I really woken up in my own bed this morning? Had I really been forced into a fight I didn’t want with my brother only a few hours ago?
Almost as if to remind me, my scalp hurts where Drago had grabbed a fistful of my hair. The side of my face tingles, too. I know without even looking that the bruise will be there tomorrow. This was a slow-blossoming one, the kind that takes a while to show itself.
I know all the different kinds. I can tell yellow from black, instant from delayed, painful from not as much—all without having to so much as glance in the mirror.
A lifetime of slaps across the face teaches you a lot, apparently.
I can’t even remember the first time a man hit me. It must’ve been Drago. I learned early that he’d hit me if I messed up. I’d grown up expecting to be punished if I disobeyed or inconvenienced him. And when you’re a five-year-old girl with no one in the world but your brother, he ends up suffering a lot of your more irritating qualities.
Which meant I often ended up suffering from him.
I look down at my cuffed hand. As I do, I feel the full weight of all my shackles, both physical and mental.
I’ve got to get free.
I stand up and try to squeeze my hand out of the cuff. Pain ignites on my wrist and travels rapidly through my entire arm. But I still keep pulling.
And then, to my utter amazement, the chain breaks.
I fall backwards against the carpeted floor. And when I raise my aching arm, there’s no restraint holding me back anymore.
I did it.
Simple as that. A bubble of disbelieving laughter escapes me, but I quickly stifle it as I get to my feet. Kian may have heard the thump of me hitting the floor. The clock is ticking.
I know the door is open. He hasn’t bothered locking it either time he’s left me in here. I loathe being underestimated. But in this case, I’ll take it.
I tiptoe to the door and press my ear against the cool surface. I can’t hear a damn thing, but I’m fairly certain that my only barrier to freedom is Kian himself. If I can avoid him completely, maybe I have a chance at escaping.
I take a deep breath, allowing my determination to solidify until it turns to courage.
Then, quietly, I open the door and step outside.
On my way to freedom.