Page 20 of Always Meant To Be
I huff in frustration, hating that my mind has gone to them again as I park in the garage.
Seeing that picture today cemented a lot for me. I’m done trying to win him over. After four years, it just gets too hard. It wears you down physically and mentally.
I gave him my body, I gave him my heart, but he’s not reciprocated it; instead, he’s given his all to my sister, a whore who can’t keep her legs closed, hoping to rile up our fatherbecause he won’t allow her to become the first female Pakhan in our family. Instead, he’ll be handing the role over to my cousin Maxim, who doesn’t want the role but refuses to allow my sister to get her hands on it.
I blink, my eyes tearing up. I have a year to leave, a year to figure out where I can run and hide, not only from my husband, but also from his family, mine, and the whole mafia organization.
Sounds easy—not!
My phone rings, snapping me out of my foggy head, and I groan when I grab it and see it’s my mother. I suddenly wish the thing had short-circuited after I smashed the screen.
Great….
“Yes, Mama?” I answer with frustration.
She calls once a month to “check-in,” trying to act like the concerned mother, only for her to scold me for not getting pregnant yet because, apparently, my sister deserves to be a Don’s wife and not me.
Well, maybe if my sister kept her legs shut, she would have been….
“Who did you tell? Did you lie to your husband, Elena?” Mama snaps, a hint of panic in her voice.
I raise a brow as I grab my keys and briefcase as I climb out of my car, commenting, “Mama, you’re going to have to be more specific. I’ve just got home from work; what is it that I’ve supposedly done now?”
She’s quiet for a moment, and then mutters bitterly, "You told someone about your punishments, haven’t you?”
I snort. “This is what you’re gracing me a second call in one month about. You whipped me with a belt when I did nothing wrong, you marked my skin, Mama, and when I say marked, I mean you scarred me.”
She huffs, “You were disciplined, and I didn’t mark?—”
I cut her off, “You disciplined me for something Liliya made up, and let’s not forget the twenty-minute whippings you gave me when I didn’t want to marry someone, all because my sister couldn’t keep her legs shut, and youmarked me, Mama. I have several belt scars proving it.”
She sneers, “Elena. That’s not?—”
I cut her off again, “It’s exactly like that, Mama, and you know it. You hate me because I’m not a boy, and used any excuse to punish me for it, but it’s not my fault for my gender; that’s Papa’s, because, newsflash, it’s the male’s sperm the determines the sex of baby.”
She’s quiet for a minute before asking, “I thought you taught 5th grade?”
I sigh. “Mama, I have to teach sex ed in 5th grade; it’s something I had to learn.”
“Oh…” she murmurs, and I roll my eyes and walk toward the utility door as she continues, “You’ve been married for four years, Elena, and over those years, your father has been different with me.”
Huffing, I stop near the washer and remove my shoes, grunting, “You think Papa has been punishing you?”
“Yes, but I was just trying to teach you how to be behave—” she tries again.
I snap, “Mama, you were not punishing me for the right reasons, and even then, you should have sent me to my room, grounded me, heck, banned me from the library, not whipped me with a belt, then allowed my sister to record it.”
“She did what!” Mama shouts, and I move the phone from my ear, wincing.
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Mama,” I try to soothe her, because it doesn’t. I want to move on with my life, preferably without my family.
“It does matter!” she snaps back. “She had no right recording it, the selfish little….” Her words trail off, and for a moment, just a single moment, I swear my mother loves me, but the moment leaves when she continues, “Your father has been slowly cutting me off over the years. He lowered my spending, sold all my designer clothes, and got the staff to move all my stuff to the guest house yesterday.”
I wince, knowing how much Mama loves her clothes, as I hang my coat up. " Then play him at his own game, Mama, just don’t do it as slowly as he has.”
She sighs. “Romeo, he told him.”
I hum and agree, “Most likely. He questioned the marks on our wedding night but never brought them up again, and now I know why. I have barely said two words to Papa since he used my education to get me to sign those papers.”