Tsarevna

PROLOGUE

Sitting on my bed, in my room, alone has its pros. I can focus on everything that's going on around me and outside of my room. I have my legs crossed and eyes shut, focusing on the voice outside in the hallway as they are getting louder and closer.

My breathing got heavier, and I played with the hem of my gym shirt on my lap while I still had my eyes closed. It helps me keep calm before the storm. My mama taught me that one stormy night when our papa lashed at us and nearly beat her to death.

Breath hitched in my throat as the heavy boots stopped right in from of the door to my room, but I waited as I was ordered to do every day. Wait like a well-educated lady for an order from my papa.

Three sharp knocks and the door opened, revealing Ivan, papa's second in command. His face was stony and eyes cold as ice when he looked at me and opened his mouth to speak.

"Let's go. Your father is expecting you." His voice the same shade of cold and before I could even get up, he was already by my side, yanking me up by my elbow.

I stumbled over my feet, nearly falling, but I recovered and quickly went for the door, keeping my head down. As we walked down the hall to the basement, we met with my older brother, Nikolas and his guard.

The difference between us was that he held his head high as if everything around us was his. His smug look and smirk greet me while his eyes take me in from top to the bottom.

"Well hello, дорогая сестра. (dear sister)"  I flinched under his cold tone but answer either way.

"Hello, брат (brother)."

My answer seemed to satisfy him as he quite happily and still with the same creepy smirk walked down the stairs to the basement and left me behind him. I was frozen in one place, the so-known shivers creeping down my back and I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I wanted to turn around and run as fast and far as I could, be anywhere else than here.

A sharp nudge to the centre of my spine made me nearly fall down the stairs and my feet decided to function again. I slowly descended into the pits of hell for me and the grunts and pants from people practising and fighting got louder with each step I take.

The heavy set of steel-like doors opened and we step through to the lion's den of my father's underground gym/practice ring. He sat at the back of the room on a high chair, looking over everything and as we step through, silence took place and eyes turn to us. My brother grind and greeted a few people before striding up to my father with me on his heels, silently walking by, trying not to get noticed.

"мой сын (my son)!" Father stood up with a big smile and hugged my brother firmly before setting his eyes on me. His face went from happy to disgust and he just scoffed under my presence.

Nikolas was always the golden child, I was and am a liability. Unwanted. Unnecessary. Stain on my papa's shirt. I looked down at my feet and started to play with the hem of my t-shirt once more.

"Prepare yourself," Papa commanded and Nikolas happily walked over to the fighting ring, tossing his shirt in the process, revealing a set of hard abs he works so hard on. I scribble after him, getting in the position at the opposite side of the ring and studying my brother. He was jumping around, moving his hands, warming up. Papa sat back down and leans forward, watching us with fire in his eyes.

"Start!" His strong voice broke something in me and before I could even react, Nikolas delivered a hard blow to my side, knocking me down to the floor. I gasped at the sudden impact and tried to stand up quickly, only to get kicked again to my stomach. The survival instinct kicked in, making me roll away from my brother's impacts and jump to my feet in a defence position.

We start to circle each other like hungry lions, no one of us dared to make the first move. The smug smirk on Nikolas' face makes me shiver once more, but I don't want to back down. I moved quickly, trying to knock him off his feet with my own only for him to jump up and land on my ankle. I heard a decent crack and a sharp pain shoot through my whole leg.

I screamed like a dying animal and clunch my ankle, scribbling away but my brother wasn't finished just yet. Before I could run away completely and lose another battle, he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and delivered a hard blow to my face. Pain shot through my left cheek up to my head and black spots took place in my vision. And another, this time to my collar bone and another to my rib cage. Another two cracks and the same well-known pain.

He was doing it over and over again until my papa raised his hand and the punches stopped. I was laying on the floor, blood everywhere and barely conscious. He slowly walked over and crouched in front of me lifting m head by my hair. My grey eyes met with his dark ones as he studied me and then let go, making my head fall with a thud to the hard cement floor.

Before I could register what is going on, two pairs of strong hands grabbed me and took me somewhere, where I've been more in my life than my room sometimes. Papa followed, closing the door and breathing out the smoke from his cigaret.

"You know, Julija," he said my name with so much hatred like it was poison, "you are taking up space. I blame your whore of a mother for bearing you and you for breathing the precious air. You will never be me rightful daughter, just a punch bag for my men to entertain." He laughed and my blood ran cold.

Gesturing to the two men, they bound my wrists with a chain and hauled me up, hooking the chain on a hook in the centre of the room. One of them took a knife out of the side pocket of his trousers and stripped me of my t-shirt, leaving me only in my bra. Papa circle them around and took his cigaret out when he was right behind me.

"Remember my words, Дочка. You are nothing." And with that, the hot end of the cigaret met with my back and the scream made its way out of my throat like every other day.