Page 4 of Uprising

When we’re far enough away I crouch down and give her a hug. I keep hugging her as if this one act could heal all the harm I’ve done. Could cure all my failures.

Because I have failed her.

I’ve fucked up so badly that I don’t know how to fix this. I thought rescuing her from my father would be a good thing, but all I’ve done is thrown us both into the lion’s den.

She hugs me back so urgently.

“I’m so sorry.” I whisper for what feels like the billionth time.

“It’s not your fault mummy.” She says sounding far too mature for her years.

I sweep her hair back, stare at her face, seeing every miniscule part of Roman that’s reflected in her.

“This won’t be forever.” I whisper. “I will get us out.”

“I know mummy. I know you will.” She says hugging me again.

I pull her in, shut my eyes so tightly, I won’t cry in front of her - I make sure of that. I keep my tears, my desolation, all of it for when I’m alone. I have to be strong for Lara. I have to make sure she believes in me. I have to give her hope. Something to cling to. Even though I have no idea how I’m going to make it a reality.

“Rose.”

We both tense at his voice.

Reluctantly I let my daughter go and stand turning to face the new monster controlling my life.

“Her tutor is here.” Darius says fixing his gaze on my child the way a man would a piece of trash that had blown into his path.

I bite my tongue. Darius has been more than clear that I’m not allowed to spend all my time with Lara, that seeing as she’s old enough to go to school she should at least be tutored.

But I know she hates the tutor. I know he’s a prick to her and I wonder if he’s done that on purpose, if Darius chose him on purpose. Because I see it, the way my fiancé looks at my child, the way he sneers at her.

He sees Roman in her.

He sees her father and I know he wants to punish her for that.

“Mummy…” Lara whispers.

I turn to look at her, showing in my face that if I could I would stop this.

She nods, giving in, reminding me of all the times I’ve done the same. All the times I’ve been forced to relent to the will of everyone else around me., forced to break myself for the wants of others. I feel such a flash of anger as I register it, that my child is enduring this, that all these arsehole are doing this to an innocent girl simply because of who her parents are.

And then she walks past us both, to where the tutor is standing in the hallway with his arms crossed, already scowling.

I want to launch myself at him. I want to smack his horrible face, beat him so hard for the way he treats my child but I can’t. I can’t do a damned thing.

Darius walks up to me, taking my hand. He’s all smiles, all charm.

“The journalists are here.” He says.

My stomach turns at what that means. More photos. More fake moments. Darius has been more than keen to capitalise on our relationship if you can call it that.

Every time a bit of bad press happens, every time there’s a story criticising him, or in some way not helping his election campaign he makes sure something leaks about us, some new loving tale of devotion and the polls respond accordingly.

I give my best fake smile. I have to be more convincing on these days. I have to be the Rose Capulet everyone has read about.

The true sunshine princess of Verona Bay.

The girl every woman aspires to be.

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