Chapter 7
Rosalie
God help me.
I lie on the floor next to the bed with my eyes shut tightly.
I don’t want to face the world without my family. I don’t want to think of the bleak future that awaits me.
I can’t deal with the trauma. It’s too much, threatening to strip me of my sanity.
I hear Viktor’s footsteps come down the hallway and press my back hard against the base of the bed as I curl into a tight ball.
“Get up,” he orders.
Leave me alone.
“Rosalie.” Warning laces the single word.
I ignore him, just wanting to lie here until I die.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he snaps, then he grabs hold of my arm and yanks me to my feet. I’m shoved in the direction of the bathroom. “Shower and change your clothes. We’re late for lunch.”
My jaw clenches, and my throat tightens. Spinning around to face him, I shout, “I’m not going!”
“Blyad', you’re testing my patience,” he grumbles, his expression rivaling a thundercloud.
I lift my chin, determined to at least stand my ground. He might have kidnapped me, but I sure as hell won’t obey his every command. “I. Don’t. Care.” Feeling reckless and like I have nothing to lose, I take a step closer. “Kill me.”
Viktor’s eyes narrow on my face. “Don’t tempt me, Little Rose.”
Losing my sanity, I dart forward and slam my fists against his chest. “Kill me!”
Viktor’s arms lock around me and secure me to his chest with a brutal hold. I squirm and fight but quickly grow tired. The emotions I’ve managed to squash down during the night erupt like a volcano and force broken cries from me.
He places a hand behind my head and curls his body into mine, his other arm remaining locked around me. I feel him press his mouth to my hair. “Shh…”
Engulfed by Viktor and in desperate need of comfort, I press as close to him as I can while weeping for everything I’ve lost.
“Jesus, Rosalie,” he murmurs, concern tightening the words. “I’m so fucking sorry for the pain you’re going through.”
The apology won’t bring back my family, but it eases some of the heartache – enough for me to breathe and for my sanity to return.
My arms are caught between us, and I manage to grip hold of his shirt, needing the comfort he’s offering just for a little while longer.
“If you don’t believe anything else, just believe that I won’t hurt you.”
It doesn’t matter. I’ve already been hurt in ways I’ll never be able to recover from.
Viktor pushes me back an inch, his hands frame my face, and I’m forced to look up at him as lost sobs flutter over my lips. His eyes bore into mine, and for the first time, there’s no sign of the brutality always lurking in the dark depths of his irises. There’s only compassion.
“You’re going to be okay.”
I shake my head, my skin brushing against his palms. “I won’t.”
I’ve lost too much.
The happy girl from yesterday died with her family, and in her place are broken shards of who she once was.