Original Sins by Faith Summers

5

Evie

Cordelia calls out to let me know she’s going before she leaves.

When I hear her little sports car speeding away from the house with Alanis Morrissette's voice carrying on the edge of the wind, I know she’s gone and might not be back until tomorrow. Chances are, though, she might cut her night short because I know she’s worried about me.

I unpack and get set up for the rest of the summer.

This room I have is quite big, so there’s enough space for me to set up my sewing machine, and I already have a mannequin here that I never take down.

To stop myself from going crazy, I’ve decided to make the dress I designed to get into college.

That was what we were going to be doing for the fall semester. Since this dress is from one of Mom’s inspirations, I was actually planning to expand the collection and work on a portfolio for my application to Vogue.

That was the dream. I wanted to intern there when the time came. Now that will either never be, or if it happens, I’ll have a different name.

The first thing I thought of to carry out this plan of mine is to get money and change my name. With a name change, no one will be able to find me. Of course, I’d have to get to that part first, and that will be hard.

I’d need a good fake ID and a passport. I can’t go to Italy, so I was thinking of heading to France or Spain. I speak both Spanish and French so the language wouldn’t be a problem.

That’s as far as I’ve thought. Since I have no way of knowing how much any of this will cost, all I know is I’ll need a lot of money. The people I’m going to need help from aren’t going to be run-of-the-mill types with an office and registered company. They’re all underground, and I have no idea where to start.

There’s also the matter of worrying that once I start seeking help and Dad starts looking for me, those loyal to him won’t hesitate to turn me in. Better to be on the right hand of the devil than in his path.

I know I’m crazy for even thinking of escaping, but I’d rather be crazy than lie down and take whatever life throws at me for being Peter’s wife.

It’s nighttime when I finish unpacking and nearly bedtime, so I head into the shower and allow the cool water to calm me.

It can be stifling in Chicago at this time of year, so I always opt for a cold shower.

When I step out, I hear someone in the bedroom, so I assume it’s Cordelia.

I knew she’d come back early. It’s nearly ten, so this is early for her.

I run some mousse in my hair and opt to allow it to air dry so I can go talk to her while I moisturize my skin. I then drag on the robe hanging on the door and make my way out into my room.

When I see it’s not Cordelia waiting for me inside but Peter, I’m too late to turn back or do anything.

He’s leaning against the wall by the window. The smug smile filling his face as he looks me over churns my stomach, and even though I’m wearing a robe, I feel naked and exposed.

“What are you doing here?” I demand, trying to tamp down the quiver in my voice.

“Oh, Evie, I thought your father told you I was going to come and see you. His exact words to me were; I could see you whenever I wanted to, so here I am.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come here uninvited and unannounced.” I’m trying to stand my ground, but I’m not stupid enough to think he won’t hurt me.

I’m also not foolish enough to know I should be afraid of him. That silence he exudes is more deadly than someone who tells you they’re dangerous. With him, you don’t know what to expect.

That’s worse.

So as he steps away from the wall and his smile brightens, I’m not surprised when my blood runs cold and the air in my lungs freeze.

I’m not surprised that my nerves feel shot and rattled like someone’s shaking me, and he hasn’t even done anything to me yet.

I don’t move when he steps into my personal space, mainly because my feet are rooted to the ground. The other reason is that if I get the chance to move, I feel like I should use that chance to run.

I’m just scared that if I do, he’ll catch me, and I don’t know what he’ll do to me.

“You think I need an invitation from you?” His brows raise.

“I want to know when—”

I don’t get to finish. One hand swipes out and grabs my neck so quick, and hard I think he’s going to snap it.

His fingers dig into my skin as he squeezes. I open my mouth to scream, but I can’t. He’s squeezing too hard.

“Listen to me, Princess, Bellezza, or whatever the fuck they call you. You aren’t in Kansas anymore, or daddy’s fucking kingdom where everyone tiptoe’s around to please you. You don’t fucking talk to me like I’m shit. I own you now.”

“Let. Go…” I choke out, gasping for air.

He doesn’t listen. Instead, he smiles wider and pulls away the belt from my robe.

“Stop it.”

“Like fuck. I think I know just how to teach you a lesson you won’t forget. I’m going to fuck you into submission. Why wait until the wedding night?”

Oh my God, he’s going to rape me.

“Stop it, you fucking asshole.” I try to swat his hands away, but it’s to no avail. All he does is move with me over to the bed. In a rage, he throws me down and tears off my robe, leaving me naked. Before I can take my next breath, he’s on top of me.

I scream once, hoping that one of the guards will come to my rescue, but then I remember there might not be any here. This is Cordelia’s house, after all, and Dad himself said this animal could come and see me whenever he wanted.

I scream again, and tears pour out of my eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch; I will truly punish you tonight.”

I open my mouth to scream again, and he slaps me hard twice. The second blow is so hard I see stars and feel like vomiting.

I don’t get a chance to recover before he slaps me a third time and covers my mouth with his large hand when I start crying.

As I cry into his hand, he smiles and lowers to suck my breast.

I feel like dying when his fingers flutter over my pussy, and when the sound of a gunshot suddenly echoes in the room, I wonder if I imagined it.

It’s only when Peter jumps off me that I realize I haven’t.

We both stare at an enraged Cordelia, pointing the gun at Peter, who now backs away from me.

“You crazy bitch, what the fuck are you doing!” Peter bellows at her.

He makes a move to go after her, but she cocks the hammer on the Glock again and stares him down.

That stops him.

“I’ll do it,” she threatens.

“And you would lose everything.” Peter smiles.

“I know, that’s why I wouldn’t kill you. There are other ways to hurt you— like shooting your dick off. Then I wonder what you would do. So, Peter, the real question here is what the fuck are you doing?”

At that moment, her guards rush up to the door, and I manage to sit up and cover myself with the sheet before they can see my nakedness. The movement makes my face hurt more, and I can already feel my eye swelling.

“It’s called enjoying what’s mine,” he sneers.

“I don’t see a ring on her finger, so she isn’t yours yet. Donny left me in charge of his daughter. Me, not you, and he’s going to hear about this.”

Peter laughs. “And what exactly do you think he’s going to do? Change his business plans? I don’t think I need to remind you who I am, Cordelia. I’m his right-hand man, and a ring means nothing.”

“It means something to me, so you better not piss me off. Donny’s not going to like that you laid a hand on his daughter. Look at her face.” She motions to me, and he looks too. God knows what I must look like because something akin to worry flashes in his flinty gaze. “You better get the fuck out before I call him now and show him what his daughter looks like.”

Peter seethes. Even I know nobody tells men like him what to do, yet Cordelia did.

He walks out, barging past the guards. As soon as I hear his footsteps going down the stairs, Cordelia lowers the gun and rushes over to me with her guards in tow.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” she blurts, taking my shoulders.

“No,” is all I manage before I break down.

“Leave us,” she tells the guards and holds me.

They leave, and that’s when I really start crying.

I was doing my best to keep my head above water. I was doing my best to take the time I needed to try and plan.

But… that was before tonight. Tonight I saw the devil for myself. Everything I suspected previously was true, and now I know without a doubt that I can’t marry Peter.

“I can’t marry him, Cordelia. I can’t do it.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She pulls away so that she can look at me and check my face. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could do something to stop the wedding. What an asshole.”

“I can’t marry him. You already know what I think about him in regard to Dante, and you saw what he was going to do to me. He beat me, and he would have raped me if you didn’t stop it from happening. I have to leave Cordelia. I have to leave. If I stay and marry him, what will become of me?”

She doesn’t answer, she just pulls me in for another hug and holds me, but I think she knows I’m right.