HATRED

CHAPTER 1

REGINA

"I love you, Dad," I said softly as he held my hand to escort me down the aisle.

"You know nothing about love," he muttered, but I chose to ignore his words, flashing a bright smile as the congregation rose to their feet. The church seemed overwhelmingly crowded.

"Dad, can't you at least be happy for me? You'll never have to give me away to another man," I whispered.

"You can't make me pretend," he replied coldly.

I sighed heavily, stealing a glance at Raphael, his back turned to me but his presence still filling me with warmth. He looked impeccable in his black Armani suit. How could any father not want to give his daughter to such a perfect gentleman?

"If I had to do it all over again, I'd still choose Raph," I declared, but it only seemed to anger my father more. He halted his steps abruptly, causing me to stop in my tracks. My heart raced with apprehension.

"Dad?" I nudged him gently, reminding him of the crowded church and the potential for embarrassment. After a few seconds, we continued our slow procession toward the altar, where Raphael stood waiting.

"If you ever hurt her, you'll regret it," my father threatened Raphael, but I knew it was an empty threat. He cared more about his company than anyone else.

I withdrew my hand from my father's grasp and entwined it with Raphael's.

"Shall we?" I asked, smiling at my soon-to-be husband. He nodded, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. Normally, I would have inquired about his well-being, but on our wedding day, nerves were expected.

As the priest began the ceremony, I squeezed Raphael's hand, but he remained distant. A sense of foreboding washed over me as fear crept in, warning of impending trouble.

"Mr. Williams," the priest whispered, earning a cold glare from Raphael. My hands trembled, and Raphael's gaze shifted to our interlocked fingers, his expression clouded with sadness and something I couldn't quite decipher. It was a side of him I had never seen before.

"R-Raph, what's going on?" I stuttered, finally finding my voice.

"Gina, I can't do this," he confessed, shattering my world with those few words.

"I'm sorry, Regina, but the wedding has to be cancelled," the priest said, his voice tinged with sympathy.

My vision blurred as tears welled up in my eyes. Panic seized me, making it difficult to draw breath. My heart felt as though it might shatter into a million pieces. I was overwhelmed by the agony of it all.

"Princess!" My body trembled, but I remained still.

"Princess, please open your eyes; you're having a nightmare," my mom practically screamed in my ears, and I snapped my eyes open.

"Mum? Raph?"

I gripped her hands tightly, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings in panic before reality dawned on me. I exhaled heavily and met my mother's teary gaze, though no tears fell. I despised how she regarded me as if I were fragile.

"Is it the same nightmare?" She asked gently before I released my grip on her hands, likely leaving a bruise, given my long nails.

"He left me at the altar two fucking months ago... Mom, it's not just a fucking nightmare. It's my reality."

"Language?"

"I'm sorry, Mom," I whispered, a faint smile gracing her face as she settled on my queen-size bed. When I tried to rise, she halted me, her touch akin to that of a therapist.

"Princess, you need to break free from this despair," I rolled my eyes.

Here we go again.

"...The fact that you made a mistake with Raphael doesn't mean you can't rectify it. It doesn't mean you should confine yourself to this room... There's a better person out there. This depression cannot..." I cut her off before she could finish.

"Firstly, Mom, you and that psychologist you hired need to understand that I'm not depressed. Secondly, I don't need anyone in my life," I jerked my hands away and threw the white duvet off my body before retreating from her sight.

"You say you're not depressed, but look at yourself," she gritted her teeth and rose from my bed. "You're not well, Regina, and I've called your therapist again. She'll be here soon, and I want you to listen to her." This time, my mother yelled at me, but it didn't faze me. She resorted to yelling when she was frustrated and needed her instructions followed, but she knew I was a disobedient child.

"I. Don't. Want. To. Fucking. See. Her," I emphasized each word in anger.

"Language, Regina."

"I'm sorry."

While I may be a thorn in her side, I still respect my mother, and she doesn't tolerate rudeness.

"Just because you dislike therapy doesn't mean you don't need it. Look at what you did to your arm and your room and tell me if these don't scream that you're a broken woman in need of help."

Her last words made bile rise in my throat as I gazed at my arm, tracing the scar on my tattoo. You can't blame a broken girl for trying to erase the tattoo she has of her worthless ex-boyfriend. I didn't even realize tears were forming in my eyes. I thought I had run out of tears.

"You need therapy, Regina," she wiped away the lone tear that had fallen on my left cheek. When did she get so close? I sniffled and took a step back, but my mom relented and left.

A few minutes later, my attention was drawn to a vibrating phone on my bed, my mom's phone. An idea sprang to mind. I knew exactly what I needed.

Ring...

She answered on the second ring, typical Anita.

"Mrs. Allen, is everything alright?"

I smiled as I heard her gentle voice. It had been two whole months since I last spoke to her or anyone other than my mother, the housemaids, and the relentless psychologist who wouldn't leave me alone. But Anita, my best friend, continued to visit, even though I always turned her away.

"Anita, I need to get out of this house."

"Regina? Is that you?" Her voice held shock, and I nodded, though she couldn't see me. I confirmed that she wasn't mistaken, dreaming, or hallucinating. Sometimes, I wondered how we'd been friends for so long; she could be so dramatic.

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