Page 47 of Reckoning

My mind seems to race from one mad conclusion to another.

I don’t want to do it, I hate that I am, but I pick up my phone and I call Roman.

He picks up after barely one full ring. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you seen the news?” I croak. God, I can’t even cover my fear, I can’t even pretend.

There’s a pause. A moment where it must dawn on Roman who this man is, who he really is.

“Do you want me to come over?” He asks quickly.

“No.” I say back. That won’t help. That won’t do anything but stress me out more. And it’ll prove everything Roman believes, that I’m not okay, that I’m not back to normal. That maybe they need to lock me back up again and this time potentially throw away the key.

“What…”

“What if it’s them?” I ask cutting across him. “What if they’re setting me up for murder now?”

“Sofia,”

I can’t stop the tears, I can’t stop the panic as it takes over. God, it would be a perfect plan wouldn’t it? What a beautiful way to silence me. Making it look like I went mad, making it look like I’m an actual psycho.

“Sofia, I’m coming round.”

“No,” I hiss. I don’t need that. I’m a damned adult, I can look after myself. I don’t need my brother to protect me all the time. And I’m not going to get better until I start forcing myself to do it. To be brave. To be a damned adult.

He mumbles something but I don’t listen. I just start rambling back about how I’m okay, how I have security, how I haven’t done anything wrong anyway so there’s nothing to worry about. And eventually he gives in. He relents the way he always does because Roman doesn’t push me. I’m still his broken little sister, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop being that.

It’s hard to ignore the bitterness in my stomach as that knowledge settles in.

I’ll always be a victim, always be damaged.

I guess somethings don’t change. Even with the passing of time, I’m still the black sheep of my family, still the embarrassment.

Sofia

The clubhouse is buzzing. There’s a group of mums in the corner, cooing over giggling babies, rocking their prams. There’s a girl, with flamboyant hair and big noise cancelling headphones stuck-on over her ears as she stares at a laptop.

And then there’s the in-crowd. The IT girls. All the beautiful, eligible twenty somethings, who in a different world might have been my friends if my father hadn’t kept me isolated.

I glance in their direction then quickly drop my gaze. Oh, I know they see me. I know they’re curious. But I’m not stupid enough to make contact. They don’t want to be my friend now. They want information, gossip, stories they can pass around at polite dinner parties, behind covered mouths.Silly Sofia Montague, did you see the bags under her eyes? Did you see how skinny she is? Did you notice her trembling when someone got too close?

I grit my teeth, forcing those imagined conversations to the back of my mind because it’s not helping. It’s not helping at all. My hands feel sweaty, my heart is thumping erratically, and I can feel my chest tightening with all the tell-tale signs that I’m on the verge of a panic attack.

Christ, Sofia, pull yourself together.

I dig my nails into my skin, bite my tongue to give my brain something else to focus on and the pain works. The pain always works.

I used to come here all the time. I used to spend my days in the clubhouse, hiding out, flitting from the pool, gym, and here, feeling like it was a safe space, a retreat, somewhere my father would never be.

Almost every table is taken but I spot Rose immediately. I mean, it’s hard not to notice her, even in a crowd, the woman stands out.

Her bodyguard stands behind her, his arms crossed in front like he already views most of the people here as a potential threat. My own trails behind me. I know he’s meant to reassure me but he really doesn’t. Having someone constantly watching you, constantly focused on you, is exhausting.

Rose waves me over and I’ll admit I’ve never felt more grateful to see her than this moment.

It took us a long time to be at ease with one another. We’d started to build something akin to a friendship and then everything had gone to shit. She’d been forced to marry Darius and me, well, everyone knows what my life became. At least, they think they do.

“I got you your usual.” She says handing me a large mug of the blackest looking coffee I’ve ever seen.

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