Page 57 of Scars of Silk

Tomorrow night I will see my father and it will be set in stone.

Mother is in hospital. And I will be told—in no uncertain terms—that I shall do as is asked otherwise a price shall be extorted.

A tight band wraps around my chest and my ability to breathe is severely restricted. I know now—more than at any other time in my life—that I will probably never be able to be free again.

I will live my life like my mother.

“Nothing is set in stone,” I gasp taking another sip of my drink.

“Well,” he leers some more, “I’ve taken the liberty of calling your office and telling them I’m taking you away for the weekend and that you won’t be in on Monday. I have a hefty investment in a hotel in Venice and I thought it would be a nice way for us to rekindle our acquaintance.

Oh God. I’m going to puke.

“Sound wonderful. I’ve never been to Venice.”

“Oh, it’s awful, stinks like sewage, but the hotel is top notch and we’ll be treated like a king and queen.”

I don’t want to be treated like a king and queen. I want to be a receptionist in a tattoo shop down a back street in Brighton. I want to spend every day watching art created by someone who has it flowing in their veins. Whose smile is enough to make me do a wild cartwheel of happiness.

“Sounds lovely. I have drinks with my father tomorrow evening though.” I swallow hard. “I can’t miss them.”

Scott's eyes harden on my face. “Oh, I know you can’t. Your father and I have had a discussion about the best way to run a family.” He chortles and leans back in his chair, quaffing his champagne like a pig. “Believe me, I think his ways are outdated, but I can see they have benefits.”

I lean forward, my pulse thudding. “Are you threatening me?”

“Do I need to?”

This is real. This is actually happening. Tomorrow, Dad is going to tell me I’m marrying Scott, just like he tried to with Elijah. The difference being Elijah is one of my best friends and I knew he was on my side, regardless of what our families thought. This is different.

This is very, very real.

“I need to get back to my mother,” I say.

I’m sure Scott knows where she is. I’m sure Dad thinks the family secret is safe with him because he’s offered him enough money to marry into us.

I’m sure Dad has explained that the way to keep your wife pliant and docile, and pretending not to be bored out of her frigging head every day, is to send her on the odd trip to hospital. I’m sure he’s explained that money can cover everything up.

That next week Mother will get another pair of diamond earrings, or another cruise on a ship, and everything will be fine; until I fuck up again.

“Let me see you to a cab.” He goes to stand, but I hold out my hand and lift myself out of my own chair, my legs barely holding my weight.

“I’m fine, thank you.” I turn for the door, ignoring the waiting staff in their starched white shirts.

“Believe me, I’m fine.”

Later I’m running over some notes I picked up from my apartment. Melissa left them for me on my sterile and immaculate kitchen counter. I was in the flat for three minutes tops before I turned around and headed straight back to the hospital.

Mum is still sleeping. It’s probably better this way. Sighing, I thrust the papers away and grab my phone. My stomach dips when I see the blank screen. But then honestly what was I expecting? The only person my heart wants to hear from doesn’t have my number. I thrust it back in my bag and then throw myself back into the high-backed chair. This will be a long night. What’s worse than sitting here at my mother's side, seeing the effects my actions have had, is the simple fact I just don’t know if I would do anything different.

That makes me a bad daughter.

Possibly, it makes me a bad human being.

I shut my eyes and remember the brush of Dan’s lips across my sensitive skin.

I don’t regret a single thing.

My eyes fly open when Mum stirs. She doesn’t rouse from her sleep, but her hand unfurls, her fingers reaching for mine. I grasp them tight.