Page 24 of Merciless Queen
“Now, show me those skills with a paintbrush.”
Painting felt natural to me. Even after ten years, my hand glided against the canvas, painting to my heart's desire. I never thought about what I painted; even my sketches were random. My favorite mediums were acrylics and watercolor. I wanted to venture out of my comfort zone and start sculpting and doing fresco, but I felt like I didn't have the talent for it. Now that I was free, maybe I could finally step out of my comfort zone and create things I’d love.
When I was done, I admired the painting. I had to Google the correct anatomical parts of a heart to make sure they were correct, but the end result was spectacular. The heart looked realistic and wet with the highlights and texture I created. The pale pink and white carnations and chrysanthemums make the red tones in the heart pop more. Elizabeth came back into the room after going to see Luca, and her eyes grew wide.
“Harlow.” She beamed as I fiddled with my fingers, picking the paint off of my skin. “This is beautiful.” Her fingers gently grazed the canvas. “When you said you could paint, I never expected this.”
I gave her a shy smile. “I was the art kid in school, always doodling. Whenever I read a book, I would sketch the characters or the land they were in. It was always an escape. I’m not done, though. I want to add some butterflies, but I’m going to make them textured, so I’m gonna let the paint dry.”
“We can have paint nights. Talent like this shouldn’t be hidden.”
“The art reflects the artist. It’s not going to be pretty.” I dropped my head, looking at my nails.
“But it’ll help tell a story. A story that can help you heal. All art isn’t supposed to be pretty. Art is supposed to make you feel something.”
“Yeah, I guess you're right. I am ready for bed, though. It’s been a long day.”
“Go take a shower and we can put on a movie.”
The sound of chains scraping the floor sounded like the sharpest nails on a chalkboard as my eyes darted across the room. He was here, even though I couldn’t see him. He was always here.
There was hoarse laughter echoing off the cement walls. He was waiting for a reaction, but it was always the same regardless of how I reacted. If I was silent, he’d hurt me. If I screamed and begged, he'd hurt me. I learned to keep quiet when he played these wicked games.
“Where are you, princess?”
I covered my mouth with my hand, silencing my heavy breathing so he couldn't find me. I didn’t want to play this game. I just wanted it all to be over. No more screaming or crying. No more listening to the screams of girls. No more nightmares. I hoped tonight was the night he killed me.
“Ahh, there you are.”
Searing pain screamed in my scalp as Vincenzo pulled me from my hiding spot. I knew it was pointless hiding. He’d always find me. My tormentor could always find me.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry.”
“You’ll be lucky to live for lettinghertouch you. You are mine. I always get what I want.”
I screamed as the blade flew down and hit me, but between ragged breaths and my hands touching my unmarked skin, I knew it was only a dream. That, and Elizabeth’s voice telling me everything was okay.
I looked at Elizabeth, surprised. When I would have nightmares, she would always soothe me. Why was last night different? I couldn’t have continuous nights of nightmares. I’d be a walking zombie by the end of the week.
“Listen to me, sweet girl. You’re safe. No one can hurt you.” I wished I could believe that.
After tossing and turning, I gave up on sleep and grabbed my robe before quietly going downstairs. If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well bask in the endless options of food and drinks I was allowed. When I got to the kitchen, I jumped, covering my mouth so I didn’t scream when I saw Caterina sitting at the bar, eating a gallon of ice cream.
CHAPTER 18
Caterina
My father was nothappy that I was getting married. I only told him that I was getting married in our quick conversation so he could come home from wherever he was with whichever woman he was entertaining this month. I loved the man to death, but his way of coping with my mother’s death was horrid. It had been fifteen years since she died, but he was still mourning.When he was with Serena for a short period of time, at least he wasn’t screwing any woman who touched him.
I changed into a t-shirt and tiny shorts before walking down to the kitchen. Everyone else in the house was asleep. Elizabeth said Harlow enjoyed the paint supplies and already created a beautiful piece. Elizabeth planned a night of movies and snacks, but I was pretty sure the two of them went to sleep. Harlow still looked frail, but now that she was free, she was getting color into her soul and life back in her eyes.
I reached into the freezer and grabbed my gallon of rocky road ice cream before sitting at the bar. This was the only time I allowed my defenses to be down—when I was alone in my home. Sometimes, I hated the outcome of my life, but I craved the power it gave me. The mention of my name made peoplequiver in fear, so I guessed it was a plus, and I could use it to my advantage to help people.
I heard footsteps coming down the steps, and I already knew who it was. When Harlow saw me, she covered her mouth to prevent herself from screaming and alerting everyone in the house. I arched my brows as I pulled the spoon from my mouth.
“Want some?” I should’ve told her to go back to her room, but the girl suffered enough without me being a bitch. Technically, she didn’t ask for me to kidnap her, so she was allowed little leisure and pleasures—ice cream and conversations were two of them.
She grabbed a spoon and sat down next to me, shrinking into herself like she expected me to slap her for allowing this. “Wh-Why are y-you being nice to me?” she stuttered.
