Page 384 of Phobia
We all sat down at the table, with Papa at the head and Maman next to him. Jean sat across from Papa, and I was sandwiched between the two chauvinists.
Jean made no effort to hide how much he thought of himself with every exaggerated anecdote about his life. Each story seemed to have been carefully crafted over the years to boost his ego. Like when he told us that he had been meant to duel with Le Marquis de Lafayette, who had conceded at the last minute because he was too afraid to go up against the great Jean Rousseau, Champion of Wine Guzzling and Owner of Extremely Long Legs that kept “accidentally” brushing up against an uninterested woman.
The man was a tool and there was absolutely no way that he would be my ticket out of this house. I’d quicker duel with the Marquis myself than marry Jean.
After what seemed like an eternity of forcing my drooping eyelids to stay open and no further mention of Papa’s true intentions for inviting Jean, I sensed I had successfully dodged the breakdown of a lifetime.
Maman had started clearing the table, while I counted down the minutes until I could sneak out to meet Bastien.
I rose to help Maman with the dishes, but Papa patted his palm on the table signaling me to sit back down.
“Jean, I would like to thank you for joining us for dinner. It is not often that we have guests over, and I should say that we enjoyed your company. Right, Rosalie?” His tone implied that it was my turn to say something.
“Oh, um...yes,” was all I cared to contribute.
“And I thank you for having me, Hugo. It was wonderful getting to meet your family—especially you, Rosalie.” Jean turned to me, looking like he was ready to give me another saliva-ridden kiss.
“Thanks,” I said plainly, not wanting to encourage his attention.
He leaned over the table. “In fact, I’d love it if we could spend more time together.”
“What? Why?” I knew why, but I hadn’t thought he’d be so forward.
His eyes glinted in the candlelight between us, making him look like the devil in disguise, trying to lure an unsuspecting victim into his lair. “To get to know you better.”
“Well, I...um...I’m pretty busy most days, so I don’t know about that.” I was reaching for any way to get out of it, but no excuse seemed perfect enough to successfully evade him.
“Nonsense,” Papa interrupted. “Rosalie would love to spend more time with you.”
“Papa,” I bit out, desperate for him to drop the subject. “I really don’t have the time.” I found Jean disgusting and I didn’t want to be alone with him. I hoped Papa would, for once, save me from doing something that I loathed.
Papa pummeled his fists onto the table, causing Maman to yelp like an injured puppy. “Rosalie, you are disrespecting our guest,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry. But I can’t.” I didn’t want this to go any further and string Jean along.
“Youcan’t?” His expression tightened in horror. With heavy steps, he reached me and grabbed my wrist hard, pulling me out of my seat. My chair clattered to the floor.
Jean was up and out of his seat, standing back like the coward I knew he really was despite his trumped-up stories.
“I tried to tell your mother it was a mistake having a girl.” Papa’s voice was disturbingly quiet. “But she wouldn’t listen and refused to give you away. I know now that you are a curse on this family.”
My heart stalled in my chest. I was just a mistake to him. An inconvenient mistake. He truly believed that if I had been a boy, his life would have been better. I had never been wanted by him.
Enough was enough. I was done being the punching bag for his insecurities.
A force overtook me, fueling my newfound courage. I yanked my hand away from him. “The only person who’s cursed this family is you.”
His eyes widened in fury. I had never spoken back to him before.
“You fucking bitch. I should cut your tongue out for speaking to me this way.”
I turned to face him, tired of allowing him to bully me. “Then do it.” I grabbed the nearest knife from the table and held the handle out to him. “Cut my tongue out if I’m such a stain on your perfect family.”
He grabbed the knife out of my hand and threw it aside, then his hand shot to my neck. He gripped my throat and threw me onto the floor. Maman’s scream pierced my ears as my back hit the floor hard, knocking the wind out of me. I gulped air and writhed, trying to get back up, but I couldn’t.
Through my blurred vision, I saw the figure of a tall man, most likely Jean, leap over me, followed by the slam of the front door. I finally caught my breath, and all I could do was laugh. Howl on the ground like a raving lunatic.
“Fucking coward,” I shouted through the incessant cackling that wracked my body.
