Page 7

seven

bia

It has been a few days since we returned from Ireland. I keep hoping and praying that my grandfather has forgotten about me flinching in front of the O'Sullivans. I was expecting to be thrown back into the basement, punished with the belt, get some broken bones, or something.

Every time I hear someone by my door, I feel like my heart is going to leap out of my chest. The waiting has made me anxious.

Today, I’m having brunch with my mother and her friends. They are all either wives or daughters to one of the high-ranking members of my grandfather’s Mafia.

I know the brunch will be all about my wedding to Cillian. She will gloat about how I’m being sold and how I will finally be useful to this family. She has constantly reminded me of how valuable or I should say not valuable I am to our family.

I dress in a floor length maxi dress; my wrists are covered in bracelets to hide the marks from the leather restraints. Not that any of the woman would care or be concerned. They would just ask what I did wrong and laugh at my misery.

I make sure my hair and makeup are up to my mother's expectations. I wait for one of the men to escort me to the car. I’m shocked when I see my grandfather opening my door. I stand and bow my head greeting him.

“Hello, sir.” He walks up to me and raises my head with his fingers under my chin. He eyes me from head to toe.

“You look decent enough. You better not do anything embarrassing. Remember, you don’t only represent our family now but the O’Sullivans as well.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Good. Let’s go.” He roughly grabs my arm and loops it through the crook of his arm. I silently walk with my grandfather as he keeps reminding me of what is expected of me.

“You are to be dainty while you eat.”

“No alcohol.”

“Do not talk to anyone unless they talk to you.”

“Don’t babble on.”

“You are to be seen not heard.”

He opens the backseat for me and guides me inside.

“Enjoy your brunch,” he sneers at me before he slams the door shut.

I wait while my grandfather talks to the driver. He gives the driver a final nod before he walks back toward the mansion. The driver slips back inside the car and starts it without a word to me. I stare outside, watching the people as we pass. They look so happy as they embrace each other. I wonder what it would feel like to be hugged just because someone generally wanted to hug me?

How will my life in Ireland be? I know Cillian already said our marriage will only be on paper and that he would never love me. Will he at least care about me? Will he hurt me like my grandfather does? Did he really kill his first wife? Did he love her? Will he kill me too?

I’m jolted out of the thousands of questions buzzing around in my mind when the glass of my window by head shatters. I feel each shard of glass as it pierces the skin on my face. I bend down and cover my head with my hands.

I peel my arms off my head and sit up as I look around. The driver keeps glancing in the rearview mirror and back at the road in front of us.

“ ΓΑΜ? ” (FUCK!) he shouts and yanks the car over to the left. The car is hit again with bullets.

“Get down!” the driver shouts at me. I bend down, covering my head like I did before. I don’t know if I'm keeping my head down because of how many times the car jolts around or from the fear I can hear in the driver's voice.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Bia,” the driver says when the car stops. I look up in time to see us surrounded by vehicles. As the doors to their vehicles swing open men start stepping out armed with guns all aimed at us. No… aimed at my driver.

“What? Why is this happening?”

"I’m not sure. I’m sorry,” he says again. He moves to open his door but the moment it opens, bullets fly in his direction. I watch in horror as his body jerks with each bullet that pierces his skin.

I give a wordless scream, watching his body jerk until he slumps forward against the steering wheel.

I thought it couldn’t get worse, but it does. A man walks up to the car with a gas can and starts pouring it all over the vehicle.

I try to open my door, but it’s stuck.

I bang my fists on the window, begging the man not to do this. Or at least crack the window so I can try to get out of the car before I’m burned alive to a crisp.

The man does nothing but creepily smile as he continues to pour gasoline all over the car. I watch as he sets it down and he reaches into his pocket pulling out a book of matches. I shake my head with tears on my cheeks, begging for him to spare my life.

“PLEASE! DON’T DO THIS. IF YOU WANT MONEY, I WILL GIVE YOU MONEY. PLEASE. I’M BEGGING YOU DON’T DO THIS!”

His smile gets bigger watching me cry and beg for him. He opens the book of matches and strikes one. He watches as the flame, the orange hue lighting the end. He taunts me thinking I am safe when he blows out the flame only to light another match. He tosses it on the roof of my car.

I keep trying to break the glass with my fists, hoping that all my banging will crack.

I can hear the whooshing of the fire as the flames get bigger with each second that ticks by.

I scream in fear and in pain, clutching my fists to my chest when the glass finally reached a temperature too hot for me to continue to bang on the window. In this moment I realize I will not survive this. No one is coming for me. No cares enough to come looking for me.

I crawl down to the floor of the car; I curl my body into the fetal position.

I guess this is the way I’m going to die.

At least my family will finally be free of the burden of me and Cillian won’t have to marry me.

***

“I can’t thank you enough for saving my granddaughter,” I hear my grandfather say. I keep my eyes closed. Saving me? Saving me from what? No one would willingly save me from my grandfather’s wrath if anything he would punish them.

Did someone stupidly try to intervene between me and my grandfather during one of my punishments? No, that can't be it. He wouldn’t be thanking them.

I take another moment and listen carefully.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Where is that beeping sound coming from? I turn my head toward the sound and open my eyes. When the harsh, bright light hits them, it causes a sharp pain in my head that has me squinting and hissing in agony.

I hear footsteps coming toward the side of the bed and quickly close my eyes. The steps stop when they are at the side of my bed. I wait, wondering what he will do now.

My breath becomes erratic, and each breath becomes harder and harder. My eyes open when I feel a pain in my arm. I see my Grandfather staring down at me menacingly.

“Did you enjoy your little drive? You know better than to embarrass me,” he says before walking out of my room.