Page 8 of Contract of a Billionaire
“Father burned Branka,” Mia rasped, her body shaking.
“He won’t hurt us anymore.” My mother’s voice was eerily calm. The expression on her face was that of a madwoman. She had finally snapped.
Before I could ponder the meaning of her words, she strode in slow, heavy steps towards her dresser while I closed the distance between my sisters and me. Taking Branka into my arms, I cradled her and pulled up the little shirt up to check her wound.
“I-is she gonna die?” Mia’s voice shook like a leaf in the wind.
I shook my head. “We have to clean it,” I told her and shot to my feet. Mia followed, her auburn mane a mess and her eyes watching me like I was her savior. I fucking failed. I always failed. If I was a savior, I’d have taken my sisters and disappeared.
Forever. Somewhere where nobody would find us.
A simple life. I could fish and hunt, feed them. I was good with building furniture. I could sell it. I could teach my sisters whatever I knew. We’d be safe; we’d be happy.
The smell of smoke filled the room and I whirled around. My mother flicked a box of matches onto the curtains that were already burning and my chest froze.
We’d burn. She meant to burnus.
“He won’t hurt us anymore,” she repeated her earlier words and I finally understood the meaning. Branka started to scream again. Mia cried, pale and sweaty, while staring at the flames.
I took Mia’s hand in mine and rushed toward the window, dragging her with me. Keeping Branka shielded with my body, I ripped at the curtains, ignoring the pain on my skin. Flames licked at my forearms, my back as I kept Mia and Branka shielded.
“You have to jump,” I ordered Mia. She shook her head frantically, while mother sat on the floor. Numb and ready to die. “Now!”
Two stories down to fall. It was our best chance at survival.
She took a step forward, then glanced at me over her shoulder. “I’m right behind you,” I assured her.
“What about Mother?” she whispered, her eyes flickering to the broken woman.
“I’ll take care of everything.”
She jumped. Father’s men were already alerted, shouting and screaming filled the night. Keeping Branka out of our mother’s reach, I took three steps to her and yanked her with my free hand.
She stumbled, reverting back to her old, empty self. Maybe I should let her burn; let her find peace in death. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
I pulled her with me, flames quickly spreading and licking at our backs. Once at the window, Mother’s eyes met mine.
Dead. She was already dead.
I pushed her out of the window, and I fucking prayed she’d find her peace. She didn’t want this anymore.
I jumped out of the window with Branka in my arms. I fell on my back, the wind knocked out of me. The lawn felt hard as a rock, but I knew it saved me from breaking some bones. All that mattered to me was that the baby in my arms was unharmed.
For her, I’d break all my bones.
My eyes flickered to the grave. She held it against me for saving her. For saving Mia and Branka. She didn’t have to say it, but I saw it in her eyes. Accusation that I had taken away an escape.
For me, my mother died that night. I had mourned her a long time ago.
Our mother had been a walking corpse for decades. She was too naive and too soft for this world. First, she was deceived by a corrupt, up-and-coming politician who was eyeing the presidency of the United States and couldn’t be bothered with a young Irish woman whom he impregnated. And then she was sold by her parents to a sadistic animal.
The dark stone of the chapel matched my mood. Arched windows gleamed with dullness and saints leered down from the top of the building, judging this entire damned family. The setting fit the occasion perfectly.
The gray clouds gathered above our heads, darkening by the minute. The sky was weeping for me because I had no tears to shed. They’d been beaten out of me a long time ago.
My eyes remained on the casket as the ground swallowed it whole, the words of the priest… background noise.
Ashes to Ashes. Dust to dust.
