You're dead to me

Chapter forty-two: Pick's Eye

I fucking hate this son of a bitch, with anger I rip my wedding ring from my finger and throw it over the marble. The gold slides over the floor under the wardrobe. I don't want to see this fucking ring ever agin, if I could I would've signed the divorce papers already.

The high, that I was on yesterday, has faded into a heating blade, I am fucking inches away from shattering all the glass. My feet shift me to my room where I aggressively throw everything that I need into a suitcase and wander around, trying to cool myself down. His words still rumor around my head and I storm into his office two hours later. The lady on the front had taken me by the word, when I screamed at her for giving me the needed information.

His door crashes into the wall and all the air I've had, got sucked out of my lungs. His office was decent decorated, a few plants there and a few pictures here, but the thing what caught my eye laid on his desk.

The chair was still located as if he just went out to grab a coffee, which I hardly assume because he either way doesn't drink coffee or he has a runner for that. The brown old cover pierced into my flesh, it was like I have been torn away from my second half and now registered again. First I felt numb, the anger has made me tired and now my emotions took over me once again.

My lips are white, so is my whole face and with shaky fingers I reach out for my diary.

The book was marked at an entry and I open it. It was Christmas and I reread my scribbled handwriting.

Christmas,

Shouldn't it be a holiday for forgiveness love and family. It wasn't!
Father made me kill a deer with bare hands, shoved the flesh in the oven and ran away from him. Theresia hadn't talked to me since committed the murder. Tired of feeling low and tired of seeing happy children playing outside snowball, lights are openly attached to neighbors house. Father insisted to stop doing that, sake of his will, not sake of Christ. Read the Bible today, asked for the hundred of time for forgiveness, guilt seemed to swallow me. Sometimes dream about killing father, but mother and Theresia would die with him from the pain.
Got Christmas presents, Theresia received jewelry, mother expensive dresses, father a new watch. They opened all their presents until one remained. Father shot me a look of annoyance, when didn't reach out. Slowly opened it and gulped vomit down. It was a black necklace, one of a kind, a picks eye looked at me.
"Turn it around". Father said and obeyed. It was signed, his handwriting. Promessa di uguaglianza.

The entry stopped there and I haven't noticed how tears have been wetting the moldy paper. The translation was promise of equality, father promised me to be equal to a pick who eats their own piglet, when it comes to starvation. What that meant was clear, he wanted me to be an animal, animals bite when provoked. He turned me down to a pick and he was even stundend by himself.

I let the diary drop openly to the desk again and backed out. I felt sick to my stomach, because I had the picks eye in my mind.

I had to wear the necklace every time when we went to an event, that kept the wolves in their cages, no boy had interest in me. They first humiliated me and then feared me, I was never enough for my Father, never enough to be loved and surely never enough to be called an assassin, because all what I've did the last years was killing to gain respect, forcing my father to see in me an heir that's worth it.

The meeting when father told me he had a husband for me, came vividly into my vision. I did it out of protest, but also to be ruthless and reckless. I wanted that father sees the danger living in his house. I wanted to show him that he should've feared his life when he sleeps at nigh. I emanated him to constantly remember that he wasn't safe from me.

Well I kinda succeeded, but now I've made myself more enemies than before. No one stood behind my back except Briar, I can't trust my men anymore they're all father's property. Theresia will not bow her head, nor anyone else when it comes to be eye-to-eye to my father.

I called some of the cleaners and ordered them to pack his stuff and deliver it to the private airport.

After that someone unknown called me and confirmed that Eden broke out, I seriously didn't give a shit anymore. I needed to be at the De'Bardi's at midnight and tomorrow they would have a birthday ball for Alessandro. Apparently whole Italy was invited. The dress was already chosen and I felt trapped again in a doll I was not.