Page 36 of Thicker Than Blood

I knew I had to do the right thing. Let her go.

Chapter 26

Amari

It was childish and immature, but I couldn't bring myself to leave my bedroom. I tried to block everything out of my head but the dull throbbing pain wouldn't leave me. My beautiful, kind-hearted mother watched me from the sidelines but didn't pressure me to talk or scold me for not leaving my room. When she brought me my food, she left it on my bedside table before kissing my head and silently closed my door behind her.

Keith had dropped the white envelopes at our house, and since they were addressed to me, I opened them up one by one. Christos had left the house to my mother, with a lifetime stipend. The second envelope had Alcina’s trust fund details and monthly allowance, which was accruing in a savings account.

The third envelope contained a lump sum cash amount that had been deposited into my account—two million pounds from C. Karalis and another five million transferred from S. Karalis. Every envelope had all the legal documentation detailing the last will and testament for Christos and a copy of the house title deed in my Mum’s name. My mother still didn't ask me a single question when I gave her the documentation.

My bedroom door creaked open and the soft light shone into my darkened room. My sister crept in wearing her cute pink pyjamas, clutching her goth black and blue skeleton unicorn soft toy. I raised my head off the pillow and forced a smile for her. I winced when she looked relieved and closed the door behindher. I made space for her on my double bed and she climbed in with the stuffed toy between us.

“Are you still ill, Amari?” she whispered, stroking my cheek.

“I’m getting better,” I said, lying to her and glad the room was pitch black.

“I don't like to see you sad. Mum was sad for a long time after Daddy died,” she said pushing the stuffed toy into my chest before she snuggled closer.

I tried to blink my tears away, my eyes still raw from my previous pity party of one. Alcina deserved a better big sister.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel sad too,” I whispered, wrapping my arm around her tiny waist. “I promise you, everything will be okay.”

“It’s okay,” she said patting my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me before she hesitated to speak again. “Maybe you will smell better then.”

I choked back the laughter and blindly kissed her cheek but ended up kissing a mouth full of her hair.

“Love you, Al,” I said, using our sibling nickname.

“Love you, too, Am,” she said stifling a yawn.

But even as I closed my eyes the image of Stefanos was larger than life. He was done with me to the point he paid me off to get me out of his life forever.

Did he miss me? Had he replaced me with someone else? Had he hated me all throughout the four and a half months?

The hardest question that I refused to seek the answer to simmered away in the background.

Why did I care so much?

???

Three weeks passed, and I still felt the pinch in my feet from wearing shoes. My jeans and sweaters were now loose since I dropped a dress size. After months of being naked and wearing my pet outfit, nothing I wore was comfortable. My throat still felt bare without the tight, thick leather collar. It had been almost a month since Stefanos freed me, and yet every day felt like walking on glass.

I clung to Alcina like an anchor, her sweet laughter in the park, her insistence to feed the ducks crusts of bread, these were rituals that I could mimic. I pedalled bicycles, pushed swings, nodded as she chattered about the school playground, dragon and glittery unicorns. My gaze would often wander off to the dark shadows in the park. One time hearing a man’s deep voice—too much like his—had me gripping my sister’s hand too tight.

With no desire to return to the workforce, I sought solitude but ended up wandering around the foreign yet familiar streets, sitting in random coffee shops letting my drink grow cold, and holding novels on the same page for hours. I watched the people through the window, or customers in the coffee shop, envying their everyday, unbroken lives.

No matter where I went, I couldn't shake away the memories. At home, folding the laundry, when his timbre voiced commands echoed in my mind until my hands shook. The names he called me until he began to call me his pet. Or when I stood in the shower to scrub my skin off trying to erase the recollection of his hands bathing me—clinical, possessive only to tremble when I realised I missed the intense heat of his scrutiny.

At night I dreamt of the wooden floors and the hands that held me down, guiding me into position. I would wake up gasping for air, reaching for my face only to realise my mask was no longer there. The shame and disgust curdled with something darker, hungrier, gnawing at me between my thighs.

Yes, he had been cruel. He stripped me of my dignity, my voice and my choice, but he also became my certainty with every rule, every punishment and every flicker of approval—my guide in the new world of submission and domination. Now, I was lost without his direction, his touch.

Stefanos had freed me but in doing so he also ruined me.

???

The muesli looked appetising with the mixture of brightly coloured berries and thick Greek yoghurt. I wondered what the word yoghurt was in Greek. My eyes prickled with tears, but I blinked them away, refusing to shed any more tears for someone who only held me in contempt. Perhaps I should go to the museum today or an art gallery.

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