Page 24 of Downfall

“Why are you always so difficult?” He snaps. “I’ve given you everything. I’ve given your family everything too. You Capulets wouldn’t have half the power you have right now if it wasn’t for me. If it wasn’t for my name attached to yours. You live a life of luxury because of me and yet you won’t even show any gratitude? FOR ANY OF IT.” His spit hits my face as he yells, his fingers clawing at my head.

He wants gratitude? He wants me to be thankful? I scrunch my fist up and slam it into his side. Yeah I’m not opposed to getting my hands dirty either. Though he’s the one that always turns to violence, I’m not going to just take it. No, more often than not I’ve started fighting back, showing him I’m not going to be his eternal punchbag.

I’m not proud that I resort to his level but to some degree I can rationalise it. Besides it makes the bruises more palatable. The pain too. It makes it easier to look myself in the mirror and know I didn’t just cry and beg him to stop, I gave as good as I got.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” He mocks, grabbing my hand in his and crushing my knuckles to the point I think they might break but he’s careful not to cross that line. Never to do any more than nasty bruises. Because broken bones require more explanation. Broken bones are harder to deny. Harder to cover.

“Let me go Paris.” I reply trying to jerk out of his grip.

“You’re my wife.”

“Then treat me like that.”

He smiles. That awful crooked smile he gets before he does something unforgiveable. “Is that what you want Rose?” His hands grab me tighter and my stomach lurches. He’s going to doitagain. A repeat of earlier, not that that was the first time, but usually he slinks off after, half ashamed at himself as well as me once the moment is passed.

“You heard Darius. He wants nieces and nephews.” He says into my ear as his hands begin to claw away at my flesh, ripping open the robe I wrapped around myself like some sort of shield.

“And I said no.” I cry back.

He laughs. “You don’t get to say no Rose. I’m in charge here. Not you. And you’ll take everything I give you, because under that polished exterior you’re just like the rest of your family, a bunch of grubby whores willing to do anything for a bit more power.”

Rose

It’s been a long week. I’ve spent most of it hiding while no doubt the world assumes I’m getting over Darius’s political rally.

But in truth I’m getting over the eventsafterit.

It’s not the first time Paris has pulled that move. Usually I just give in where sex is concerned. It’s easier that way and it often saves me a few bruises too. But after the comments Darius made, something made me want to take a stand, to assert myself, to prove that I’m more than what they all see me as.

I don’t want children. Not with Paris. Not in this relationship.

Only he clearly doesn’t give a shit and he’ll make sure he ticks that box as quickly as he can. Afterall, for all Paris’s connections, for all his money, we both know his real power comes from Darius. He needs to keep him sweet. He needs to keep in favour.

And apparently my uterus is how he does that.

But what Paris doesn’t know is that I have an IUD fitted. I bribed a doctor to do it and I paid a princely sum to make sure it’s not in my medical records because I don’t trust any of my family, or Paris himself to not get hold of them should the occasion call for it.

So he can fuck me as many times as he wants. He won’t achieve his goal. I won’t get pregnant.

I let out a small sigh of relief as I tell myself that. That it won’t happen. That I won’t be forced to bring some poor innocent child into this horror show of a union.

That history won’t repeat itself.

But today I don’t have an excuse for hiding; I’ve got tea with my mother. Joy of joys.

The Bentley pulls up outside. I take a glance at myself in the mirror and check my makeup is still covering. I look immaculate. Presentable. The very image of perfection this city expects of me.

The whole drive I stare out the window wondering what my life would be if I wasn’t a Capulet. If my family’s expectations didn’t overrule every aspect of my life. Would I be happy? Would I be content? I don’t harbour any illusions that my life would be easier.

I know I’m privileged, incredibly so.

I’ve never had to worry about paying bills, never even looked at the price tag on anything I get. Nor do I pay attention when the assistant rings up the bill. I just hand over my card. The numbers don’t matter.

I’ve never woken up hungry, wondering where my next meal will come from.

In truth, I’ve lived a life of luxury in so many ways, so perhaps I’m being ungrateful to want happiness too, perhaps I’m asking too much, being too greedy.

But then I’m a Capulet. That’s what we are by nature. Greedy.

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