Top Note

Chapter 33

Eriantha

"Are we hungry here?"

I yelped at the sudden intrusion, Darcel's voice was still gravelly from sleep, I felt a tinge of guilt for waking him up, he hardly manages to sleep. I pushed that thought right away, the moment I remembered that he was the reason why I was making a sandwich way past midnight.

To be honest, he wasn't solely responsible for this, in fact it was the whole situation that made me lose my shit. The unexpected encounter with mom, and then Darcel charged me, doubting my loyalty towards him, I still have no idea what made him think that way? Viktor Cedine is old enough to be my father!
But what lit the bomb was my old trauma, the damage that had already been done by Fredrik Reux, my father.

"You look exactly like her, don't think you could get away with acting like a whore. Not under my roof."

"Are you even my own daughter, at least Anders has my eyes, heaven knows whose seeds that whore took in!"

"Only sluts wear red lipsticks, just like your mother did. Be like a lady, a woman should act like a whore only while warming her husband's bed..."

I wore two perfect masks, one of obedience in front of him and at school, and one of defiance outside,where I would  run my lethal tongue and dressed up like a homeless person, defying every norm that had been etched by my father into my mind.
I wasn't either of those, although those masks had imprinted me over the years, and yet deep within, the person that I truly identified with was just wanted to drop those masks, break those armours and she wanted to be free, that person came alive only while making perfume.

Or when Darcel ate your pussy, or when his cock was buried deep inside you, or whenever his unique scent fills you up, or when he showers praises on you and makes you wet just through his presence.

I chided myself for having such deviant thoughts.

Shut up bitch, if you remember he called you a whore just like dad would call mom.

I snapped at my inner voice.

Come on Eri, even you know it, that those two things aren't the same. Darcel didn't mean to, or may be he did, but it was more of a fury kink than an actual humiliation. He doesn't know about the fucking trauma baggage. Does he?

That's right, dad's words kept ringing in my head, I had thought that I had successfully shunned those memories, buried them six feet under the ground where his casket laid, but I guess I was wrong.  Maybe it was because mom appeared suddenly, or maybe because I was just hurt that Darcel thought so less of me.

Before I could reason out myself, I had lashed on him, forgetting how unequal footing I had in this whole bargain. It was me who had approached him for favour, the amount of debt that he had cleared for us, he didn't ask much in return, mortgaging our sick company or even my perfumery skills couldn't have covered it. He could have just asked for my body, he could have made me one of those one night stands, whose names he never cared for, instead he had offered marriage, and he even antagonized Maximilian Karwitz by getting involved with the Davytans.

What else could I have asked for?

However,anger had ensnared me, perhaps the fury that should have been directed towards my father years back got channeled towards him. Since that day, I have been avoiding him, it started with anger, but as days passed I felt too ashamed and embarrassed to even cross paths with him.

My old problems were back, my sleep schedule was fucked, I was overworking myself just in the hope of getting wasted, well mentally I was burnt out, physically deadbeat, my appetite was another issue, I wasn't even managing bites, morsels may be? I was too brain  fogged to even realise that, I thought may be cooking my own meals would help, if I would put in some effort then probably my brain will get the message.
Even now I could tell that, this sandwich was delectable, but I am sure I would perhaps manage a bite.