Deviant Vows by Anna Widzisz
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The past; Davina
The bonfire night by the end of August before I have to go back to school has always been my favourite family tradition. Something I’ve been looking forward to ever since summer started. And perhaps the only reason why I don’t mind the warm days turning less and less bearable as we move into volatile September weather.
I watch as the sparks are flying from the fire, dancing in the air before completely vanishing with the wind. My father stops adding more wood into the fire as most of us are already tired and our eyes are red from all the smoke. He is sitting next to my mother with his arm wrapped around her slim waist as they are covered with a blanket. Looking to my right, I see my older sister Diana lovingly staring at her husband who hasn’t looked up once from his phone all night. Honestly, he has always been too engaged or creepy whenever I had the displeasure of seeing him around the house or at some functions.
Although for the last few days they have been staying at our summer house in Northamptonshire since theirs is being renovated right now. I can already imagine how happy my sister was when they had to decide to come here. Ever since we were little, I loved spending my summers here. Meeting new people and taking trips to the villages nearby while she spent all her time whining about being away from her fancy-arse friends who talk about boys, clothes and money most of the time.
Not that it changed one bit when she married the boss of one of the poshest parts of the Liverpool – the Georgian Quarter, alongside having the best access to the docs for any deliveries that the Firm take part in. Needless to say, Diana now has more money than we do as a second-in-command family where my father is only a Fixer for another mob boss. He’s a smart man but doesn’t necessarily know what’s going on when it comes to all the ins and outs of the Firm. At least, that’s what my uncle William says.
As the wind blows in my face, I brush my hair away, feeling the chill going down my spine. Now that the bonfire is getting smaller, I no longer feel the warmth coming from it.
“We’ll be going to sleep,” announces my mother, getting up with dad. They say their goodbyes and head towards the house.
“Should we do the same, love?” Diana asks her husband Taylor, although he shakes his head almost immediately.
“You can go. I still have a few calls to make. I’ll be right there.” His mouth says one thing, but his eyes still refuse to acknowledge his wife. Honestly, what does she see in him? Other than the fact that he can be funny sometimes and he can say something smart and insightful when he puts his mind to being present and doing something else than working all the time, but that’s about it. Even his good looks – perfectly styled dark blonde hair, deep green eyes and sharp jawline with a slight, trimmed facial hair – doesn’t do it for me.
Diana nods, smiling. Almost as if she couldn’t care less that he’s being rude to her for no reason. Shouldn’t marriage make you want to be around each other? Caring about the things someone says? I wouldn’t think that, looking at the two of them.
When my sister walks towards the front doors, I get up to leave as well. Being alone with Taylor doesn’t sound appealing, although he’d probably be quiet anyway. However, since he wants to make calls, I probably can’t hear them. But as I reach to cover myself with the blanket that my parents left behind, I feel his hand wrapping around my wrist. I didn’t even see him moving towards me.
My heart stops. He doesn’t make it a habit to touch me. Other than giving me a forced side hug whenever he greets me. And he definitely never does any rushed gestures. It can be read the wrong way if someone sees it.
I brush those thoughts away from my mind. “Yes?”
“Why were there so very few of your family members today? I remember last year that there was barely any place to sit.”
I chuckle, remembering that. I had to climb to the attic and search the dark room filled with so much dust I could hardly breathe to find more chairs. But it was also one of my favourite times when all of my family could make it.
“My grandparents have been feeling worse and can’t really travel, let alone sit around the fire, breathing in this smoke. My cousins travelled to Europe this summer with my uncle and aunt, and my uncle William doesn’t like those kinds of events. Others, I wouldn’t know. My father talked to them. I don’t know what kind of reasons they had.” I frown. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason. I was just curious.”
I don’t believe there’s nothing behind his question but as I’m in no place to question him and my eyelids are becoming heavier by the second, I nod my head and point towards the house. At that moment Taylor’s phone starts ringing, breaking this awkward silence that fell between us.
“I’m going to bed. Goodnight,” I say and retreat in such a rush that it must look as if I can’t get away fast enough.
✽✽✽
As usual, I have a hard time falling asleep due to the dogs barking every single night from their shack which is right under my bedroom window. They are demanding food but my dad is set on making them our guard dogs and ignores most of their demands until it’s necessary to give them something.
I don’t believe when he says that they are just for our protection. The guns that are stacked behind the fireplace in his office, which turns to a secret room, are for protection. I’ve only been there once before, but there are at least sixty different weapons. Each one bigger than the other. He’s conditioning the dogs for fighting pits. I know that and it doesn’t sit well with me. Just because they are Pitbulls, Rottweilers and Dobermans who are oftentimes used for that exact purpose, doesn’t make them any less of house dogs. But whenever I bring up the subject, my father just brushes it off as if I’m looking for something that’s not there.
So I get why they bark, but I am also annoyed with the fact that another night is bound to turn sleepless.
Turning to my side, I let out a heavy sigh and pull myself to a sitting position. I can say goodbye to any decent amount of sleep. I grab the water bottle from my nightstand and chug half of it as if I haven't had anything to drink in over a day.
Looking out the window, I see the moon shining brightly surrounded by thousands of stars. Something I cannot see on a daily basis back in the city. Too many lights make it impossible. Another reason why I love coming here for summer.
A pair of quiet footsteps catches my attention, coming from behind the door of my bedroom. I live on the third floor and no one else does so hardly anyone comes here. And no one does it in the middle of the night. But as I hear someone’s steps on this one creaky floorboard just by my room, I see in the dim moonlight the handle turning and someone coming in.
At first, I can only tell that it is a tall man, making me think that perhaps my father decided for some reason to check up on me. However, as I rub the sleep off of my eyes, I notice the rings on his fingers and know at once that it isn’t my dad but Taylor. He comes closer to my bed and I automatically slide back to the furthest part of it. It is just a natural reaction to being with any man alone. Something that shouldn’t happen in the underworld. Me hanging out with my guy friends, who are my age and have no idea what mob really is, happens to be a completely different thing from a grown mob boss.
I yawn. “Did something happen?” I ask quietly.
He takes another step, bumping his knees into the bedframe. He shakes his head, leaning down a little and I can finally see his face a little better. He’s wearing an expression I'd never have associated with his features before. One that he probably leaves for his soldiers and anything business-related.
Cold sweat runs down my back.
I swallow, gripping the sheet tightly. “Taylor, is everything alright?” I try again and immediately regret the question because the unsettling blank stare he has turns into an enraged one mixed with disgusting lust. In a blink of an eye, he takes my wrist with one of his hands and the other clamps over my mouth, dulling my scream that has ripped from my throat. Not that anyone will be able to hear since their bedrooms are all on the first floor. Way too far away.
Fear shoots through me as I try to free myself of his weight but the moment he kneels on the bed and presses himself on me, I can no longer move. But I still do my best. Which is still not good enough.
He is wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants which cannot hide his hard-on that is now poking my stomach. He’s humping me, growling with pleasure and desire. It’s making me sick to my stomach and my heart beats so fast that it rings in my ears and I am not able to hear anything but this right now. Maybe it’s for the better.
At some point, I realise that Taylor put some kind of cloth in my mouth thanks to which he has two hands to suppress my movements. My terror gets the best of me when tears start strolling down my cheeks and I feel the man ripping off my clothes. He’s too strong for me. His body and his hands are enough to get him what he wants.
All I can do is look at him, begging him to stop.
He doesn’t.
He slides down his slacks and now I give it my all to scream but it only makes it worse because no one can hear me and Taylor shoves his dick in me without caring whether I can take it.
Pain runs through me, making me feel as if I am on the verge of passing out. With this single movement, he robs me of my willingness to fight. There’s nothing left in me but this unbearable pain and disgust.
I cry. That’s the only thing that’s left.
“That’s what you get for giving me those bedroom eyes all night,” he whispers, thrusting in and out. His hot breath, reeking of alcohol, reaches my nostrils. “You’re a little whore, aren’t you? Always wanting what your sister has.”
He couldn’t be further from the truth.
But right this second, I would even chime in if that meant he’d stop.
Then he grunts going harder and faster until he shudders and this wet disgusting feeling overwhelms me. He’s cum inside me.
HE HAS CUM INSIDE ME.
And I don’t know what’s worse. The pain or this realization that he doesn’t care about evidence.
I start shaking when he pulls out. His eyes are still wild with desire. The smirk on his face is something I’ll never be able to get out of my head. Just like everything else that happened.
That’s when the sudden urge to push him off and run like hell to my parents surges through my body. I whirl around and hold myself up. My back is pressed to Taylor’s chest, taking him by surprise. I push against him and as he goes to restrain me once more, I take this opportunity and slide down from underneath him to the side. Without waiting, I head for the door, praying not to trip. But I’m shorter than him and can’t run fast. So one small mistake will make it impossible to escape him. And with how big this house is, screaming might not be enough. Especially since those damn dogs are still barking outside.
I grip the handle, trying to rip the doors wide open. But they don’t budge, making me think that when I was thinking of who the person in my room is, Taylor managed to lock it.
Then there comes the terror which has been numbed until this point. It comes back from underneath all that happened. And my hope comes crashing down hard along with it. I still try my best before I feel Taylor’s hands on my waist. So I go in for my last resort and open my mouth to scream my lungs out if necessary.
That’s one more mistake I’ve made because the next second I feel pain spreading through my throat. I press my hands to it and see them covered in blood. There’s so much blood that it makes me sick.
I can no longer say a single word. I can no longer do anything. All I see is blood and the metallic handle of the knife in Taylor’s hand.
Darkness is the only thing that comes as strong arms hold me close until the promised dawn. Within them, I can forget who he is and what he’s doing. Because I’ve always been afraid of dark spaces anyway, not being able to see a thing. Now it becomes a comfort along with the duvet shielding me from any touching that I have to handle. Darkness becomes my protective inner dragon. It’s the softest of black velvets.
And that’s how I survive that night, and any other night ever since. Because as much as I craved it, there was no one who believed I didn't want it. So there’s no one coming in aid every night for the next few years when I wake up screaming because the nightmares of what happened come back crashing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Because they all think I’ve hurt myself because of how shameful my act was.
But it all turns peaceful the moment I gain my power back. My strength. When I’m looking into those fucked up green eyes that show nothing but a mocking enjoyment, I grip the knife in my hand to the point that my knuckles become white, hold the arm up high and just when I take a swing I see Taylor’s eyes glimmer with shock and terror, realizing that I wasn’t joking when I told him it’d be his end for what he made me go through. What he did to me when I was sixteen. And then I slash his throat so deep and so quick that he doesn’t have time to block my move and bleeds out in front of me while every other member of the Quarter is watching.
They underestimated me.
They all did.