Page 30 of Broken

“Show her some fucking respect, or I will personally remove your eyeballs with an ice cream scoop,” Ryder barks at the waiter and the whole room looks at him in shock. His face is a purple fury and I have never seen him struggling to hold back his rage like this before. I know he can tell the same as me about what that pervert was thinking and it obviously pissed Ryder off, but still, he is not normally the type to lose control the way he does. I don’t know what it is, but this starts my brain ticking, like I’m trying to work out a really hard math equation. But before I have a chance to question Ryder’s motives, he speaks again.

“She is engaged to your boss’ son, who happens to be sitting right here. Do you like playing Russian roulette with your life?” he asks, a lot more casually this time. Gone is the emotional Ryder from earlier who lost control, this is the cold, calculated Ryder I’m used to. I don’t know why I questioned his motives. Of course, he was thinking about how that dickwad’s behaviour reflected on me.

The employee begins to bumble through an apology, talking about how he meant no disrespect and was simply admiring her beautiful ring and that he was so happy for the family. He apologised profusely for forgetting his training, but before he could get through a second round of whimpering sorry’s, a hand clasps firmly on his shoulder, interrupting his word vomit. Standing behind him is my father's right hand man, Bullet, and now the waiter looks like he is about to piss himself, but he stays silent.

“Mindy, baby, why don’t you take Ava on a tour of the gardens? She has never been before and I’m sure with you as a guide, she will love them.” He makes it clear with the tone of his voice that this is an instruction and Mindy quickly agrees, taking ahold of Ava’s hand to lead her away. Mindy talks animatedly about how it will be so much fun and the wedding plans they can discuss, and I think, for a second, Ava considers making a run for it before shaking her head and taking some deep breaths. I’m glad she is thinking clearly because my father wanting to be left alone with me while he is in this type of mood is dangerous, but that's kinda the point. Push him until he breaks.

Once the girls are firmly out of earshot, Father stands and addresses the waiter, but makes it clear to me and Ryder that we are to remain seated.

“I am about to ask you a question, and I’m sure you have worked out that the conclusion is not going to go well for you, but I am a fair man. If you answer me truthfully, then I am prepared to go easier on you. Do you understand?” Father says in his cold, hard tone that he always uses for his business transactions. The man responds with a silent nod, showing a healthy amount of fear and the side of my mouth curves up into a grin.

“When you were looking at my daughter-in-law-to-be, what were you thinking about?” He asks the waiter, who audibly gulps and I can see beads of sweat starting to form on his brow. In my head, I am silently egging him on to confirm to my father what he already knows.

“Well, Sir, erm…,there’s a rumour going around and some of the other employees are talking about their engagement party the other night.” The waiter is mumbling, but you can just make out his words. If he thinks he's getting away with just saying that, he is sorely mistaken. Father growls at him.

“And?” he asks sarcastically, but before the waiter has a chance to answer, Father continues. “And for fuck’s sake, speak clearly.” As he finishes the sentence, he takes a step toward the waiter and without even blinking, he slaps him hard across the face. The crack of skin hitting skin reverborates around the room, followed by the waiter’s yelp and scream. Father looks as calm and composed as always, if it not for the giant red hand print that is starting to occur on the boy's face, one would think that nothing had even happened.

“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir. At the engagement party, everyone is talking about the private performance that was given. Miss Ava did not attend the full party, but rather a special one with just Mr. Grant and his associates. From what I have heard, she displayed her body, including her gorgeous tattoo, then took a very thorough spanking for some bad behavior, before she begged to cum with everyone watching. When I heard this I, erm… I thought it sounded hot. But after meeting her… erm… I mean, Miss Ava. Sorry, Sir. When I saw Miss Ava, she was even better looking than I could have imagined, making the situation even hotter and that’s why I was staring. I’m so very sorry. It will not happen again. I’m sorry, Sir. Mister Grant, Sir, please forgive me and take it as a compliment that you have such a beautiful fiancé.” He stutters and fumbles his words as he gets what passes for an apology out. I continue to hold the cocky smirk on my face, but I do acknowledge his apology with a nod of my head. Very non-committal. I want to see how my father responds.

My father’s face begins to scrunch up into a ball of rage. His eyes are squinted, with the almost black fire within aimed directly at me now instead of the waiter. His fists are balled up tightly and his whole body looks like a coiled up spring, or more accurately, a coiled up viper that is getting ready to launch out at their victims.

“Bullet, get him out of here now,” he demands in a hiss through his clenched teeth. I can tell the guy wants to ask what is going to happen to him, but then he thinks better of it and allows Bullet to drag him out by the scruff of his crisp white shirt. His yelp and the footsteps are the only sound left in the room.

Father turns to me with a murderous expression on his face and despite the fact he has been looking at me with murderous intent for my entire twenty-seven years of existence, this is the first time I have looked in his eyes and felt that he truly could go through with it.

“Tell me you didn’t debase that beautiful girl in front of a room full of scumbags,” he spits the command at me, but I can tell by the casual way he is stalking towards me, he knows my answer. Ryder and I are on our feet, standing close together from the moment Bullet entered the room. That guy is unpredictable and Ryder takes his job of protecting me very seriously. But as my father stalks towards me like the devil stalking his next victim, Ryder doesn’t move closer to me as he would with anybody else, instead he remains frozen. I can see his muscles twitch as it goes against his natural instincts to ignore danger, but we both know he has to. I might be his boss, but Alan Blakeman is the big boss, no matter how much we might hate that. Plus, I know I am trying to push him to his limit and I don’t want Ryder to have to be punished for something I’m doing. But his hero complex is threatening to come out and I shoot him a firm glance that tells him everything he needs to know. He relaxes his posture and with a huff that is so typically Ryder, he takes a big step back.

“She is my fiancé and she disrespected me, so I taught her not to do it again. As you can see, there's a big difference between the girl you first met and now. Ava knows she has to learn how to become a lady and is taking my lessons very seriously,” I reply as politely and as plainly as I can. I need to make it seem like my treatment of Ava is the most normal thing in the world and growing up with him, it may well be.

“You worthless piece of shit. How can you humiliate your future wife in such a way?” As he says the words, I feel a sharp crack across my cheek as his hand connects in a fierce slap. Initially, I’m in a state of shock, normally I can tell when the arsehole is going to lash out, but not this time. I feel my face begin to sting and pulse with pain as the nerve endings feel like they are on fire and have no doubt flushed into a bright red colour to match. My instinct is to move my hand to my cheek to try and stroke away the sting, but I stopped reacting normally to his acts of violence many years ago. I didn’t even yelp or make a sound when his hand connected, I learnt that he hates it more if he thinks he isn't hurting me and so I trained my body to pretend like it isn’t happening. So I ignore his pointless act of violence and focus on the words he just said to me and as they register in my brain, a sadistic sounding cackle rips from my lips. I can see my father continuing to leer at me with disgust, except now he is looking like I might be a bit insane.

“Are you kidding me? Do you not remember your very first lesson to me about how to make women know their place in this world? I was fucking eight years old and I can still remember it now,” I scream at him, because I still remember that day like it was yesterday. It was supposed to be his way of teaching me the correct way to treat women, but all it did was teach me how a woman should never be treated. Ava flashes into my head for a brief second as I remember the vow I made as an eight year old and for the first time since I started this plan, I start to ask myself, do the ends really justify the means?

I’meight years old and curled up on a hard, leather sofa in our library, my favourite room in the house. Surrounded by all of these books and no people is my dream place. I am reading a first edition copy of Fairy Tales by The Brothers Grimm and the version I am holding in my hand was published in 1900. There is a newer edition, which is the one I’m supposed to read, but I don’t get the same sensation as I do holding the original and reading the words. I love reading stories that everybody knows, but this tells us as it really is complete with the darkness. Even at the tender age of eight, I know all about the darkness of the world because I’m being raised right in the middle. To the world, my life looks like a fairy tale. I have the big house, the money, and a father that everyone fears enough to make sure I’m never messed with. But in true Grimm style, that's just what's on the surface. In reality, my life is darkness, pain, and fear.

As if to confirm these very thoughts, the shouting that before sounded further away is now right outside the library and I quickly hide the book I’m reading and pick up the version I am supposed to read. Getting punished by my father is never fun, but he has just spent the last hour having a screaming match with his new wife, Sandy. She hasn’t been around that long, they never are. My mother died when I was four years old and since then, our house has been a revolving door for girlfriends and wives. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if that wasn’t the case before my mum died. My father is no saint and doesn’t care about people’s feelings. The only reason I can tell why my father has anything to do with me is because he wants me to take over the family business one day. Most eight year olds are out playing with their friends or having fun, but I’m not allowed to do that. Instead, I have just spent the morning learning how to shoot a gun and defend myself from a knife attack. I didn’t do as well as I should have and Bullet, my father's friend who trains me, got too close and cut my arm. Sandy patched up my arm and I came into the library to read and escape from the world, but the arguing has been happening since then.

It’s nice of Sandy to feel like she has to stand up for me with my father, but she needs to learn fast that it’s a waste of time. All this is going to do is increase the severity or duration of her punishment. All of a sudden, the argument stops and I feel like I have just entered the eye of a tornado. The books I have read describe it as like a calm and stillness before the storm really kicks in and that is how I feel, on edge and anticipating what comes next.

The door to the library slams open and bangs hard against the wall. My father enters and he is pulling Sandy behind him by her curly brown hair. It looks like at the start of the day it had been styled and perfectly put together, a bit like her make-up, but now her hair is in total disarray and her make-up is running down her face, mixed in with snot and tears as she sobs hysterically. She has a cut above her eyes that is slowly trickling blood down her cheek to mix in with the tears. She looks up at me with pleading eyes and I just look away. A pang of regret settles in my stomach and there is a part of me that wants to help Sandy, but I’m a small, weak little boy who knows better than to challenge my father and he knows that, which is why he has brought her in here. She stood up for me against him and now we are both going to be taught a lesson.

My father throws Sandy and she stumbles into a heap right in front of the sofa that I am still curled up on. My knees are up against my chest with my arms wrapped tightly around them and my chin tucked against my chest to ensure I keep as small as possible and look like I am not involved with this. As I tighten my arm around my legs, I feel the sting from the cut on my right upper arm from where Bullet slashed me earlier. Luckily, I didn’t need to have stitches, just those butterfly strips that pull the skin together. Those I can deal with, but stitches hurt worse than the injury usually. This is by no means the worst injury I have sustained in this house and I wish Sandy had known that so she could have picked her battles a bit better. She’s arguing for a lost cause.

“Grant, Sandy here seems to think I shouldn’t have allowed Bullet to cut you in the way he did today. Do you agree?” His cold, hard gaze bores into me with great intensity and I know this is a test, just like all of the others. So I drop my legs and pull my shoulders back so I am now sitting up straight. It’s important to remember that my father is not just the leader of our family, but also the Blakeman crime family and how to address him with respect has been drilled into me already. I know the answer he wants me to give. I cast a glance over to Sandy, who is silently sobbing on her knees in front of me. Her scared eyes are begging me to side with her, to speak up, but that would be pointless and despite the fact I feel a weird ache in the pit of my stomach, I ignore it and do what I have been trained to do.

“No, Sir. I lost focus and didn’t do the drill as well as I am capable of. Bullet cut me because I allowed him to and that is my fault.” I sound like a robot rather than an eight year old boy. There’s no emotion or feeling in my voice, I’m simply repeating what I have been taught and I see out of the corner of my eye Sandy’s head drop.

“Thank you, Grant. So, do you think Sandy was right to shout at me and question how I parent you?” My heart sinks because I realisenowwhat he is doing. He wants me to tell him to punish Sandy.

“No, Sir. She should respect your authority as the leader of this family.” The grin that spreads across his face looks manic, but it stopped looking scary to me ages ago.

“You see, Sandy. Even my ten year old child knows how to behave better than you do.” I heard his mistake, but I’m not stupid enough to correct him. Sadly, Sandy has not been here long enough to learn her lesson and she laughs.

“You don’t even know how old your own son is. He is eight years old and even if he was ten, that is still too young to be involved in this shit,” she shouts up at my father and I wince away from the inevitable. He grabs hold of her by the hair again and pulls her up so she is sitting up on her knees. Sandy yelps as my father manhandles her and looks down at her with venom in his eyes. I have a strong suspicion their marriage is not going to last much longer, I just hope that Sandy manages to walk away with her life, because I'm almost certain there are some who haven’t been so lucky.

“Grant, would you agree when I say that Sandy here has a big, dirty mouth and that she is using it to talk rubbish rather than doing as she is told?” he asks me and I mumble a yes in confirmation. My hands begin to shake because I don’t know where he is going with this. Normally, I can tell his punishment routines, we have been through them many times, but this is new and I am terrified that I don’t know the rules.

“You see, Sandy, women in this house play a certain role and you need to learn it. I expect my women to look good and to only speak when necessary. You will never disagree with me or argue with me about anything because I am always right. I am the leader of this family and you should show me that respect. Do you agree that you have disrespected me?” he asks Sandy. She is no longer crying but it's not difficult to see the fear radiating from her. Her whole body is shaking and she is breathing so fast, I'm sure if she doesn’t start breathing normally soon, she will go dizzy. I know that because it’s happened to me. I bet her pulse is beating so fast, she can hear it whooshing through her head. It’s a really strange feeling. I use it to distract me and pull myself away from whatever punishment I am about to receive, but Sandy doesn’t look like she is calming down to embrace the panic, she looks like she is going to start freaking out.

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