"I always thought that the first time I'd be on my knees I'd be praying..." I held my breath lowering myself to my knees in front of him,
"Then worship," he smirked, "what do you desire?"
Being loved by the king of Socrates Academy is haunting, espe...
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The first hour: 1:32 AM
It had been an hour since Niklaus had fallen asleep, Rune was watching him now, he'd carried him to the bedroom to keep an eye on him. I was in the shower as Martina read a book on the toilet seat behind the curtain, she was watching me as if I were the injured one.
That's the thing I loved about Marx house, it's that when it came down to it they stayed- I couldn't say the same about most of the other people in my life.
I felt this infinity of emotion drowning me in its cruel embrace, I felt the guilt like anchors to my already bruised and battered feet for shooting that arrow into him. I felt the pain he went through every time he cried out and every time he didn't- trying to be strong for me. I felt like an imposter in my own skin for lying to everyone, these amazing human beings who'd done nothing but love me and here I was the daughter of their worst enemy.
I do not hate my father, I do not hate my country. I only hate what my homeland has become, this power-hungry nation willing to do anything for more land and more influence. You'd probably want to hear about how I hate papa now and how he's an awful man, but I do not, he has been a good father to us- perhaps not the most emotionally attached but always dutifully. I only wish that things could have been different.
Perhaps if I'd met Niklaus and our friends under different circumstances; maybe at a café somewhere in Moscow where Sade worked, maybe at the beach on a summer day, but no- I met them clouded by my father's judgement, hungry for vengeance in the frigid winter.
I wanted to cry, I wanted to burst forth like a dam, I wanted to fall to the floor of the tub and let my tears spill. But I was still unable to do so, I was so psychologically damaged from the way my mother raised me that I couldn't even bring myself to partake in a normal human emotion. I still felt her claws through my hair, gripping at the nerves of my mind like I was a puppet and she was the master.
It pains me to think that even after all these years of thinking I had finally been freed, that she was still controlling me.
"Nadya are you okay?" Martina asks flipping a page, "it's nearly been an hour, I'm sure the waters run cold by now."
