Page 1 of Forced Bratva Wife

Chapter 1 - Parker

The wind bit through my jacket as I walked past the 24/7 laundromat located right off campus. Once again, I had another late night at the hospital going over my case reports, and it didn’t seem like things were going to get any easier anytime soon. Ah, the joys of medical school.

I couldn’t honestly say I was upset, though. I was so overjoyed to be out of that house, away from him. Ever since Mom passed, all I've wanted to do is devote my life to helping those in need, especially the sick.

Exhaustion was a thing, however, and I pulled my coat closer around myself as I hurried back to the crummy student apartment I was now calling home. Even with paper-thin walls and a mattress made out of high-grade Styrofoam, it was better than…back there.

A flash of memory cut through the haze of walking the familiar streets, and I remembered the empty room I had left behind. Cluttered with a few relics from my less-than-stellar childhood, I’d closed up the door that sat on one rusty hinge and never looked back. Sayonara, shit hole.

As I turned the corner, the strong Chicago wind roared in my ears. Only one block away from my door, I felt an urgent need to get inside immediately. The street lamps lit my path, but this area always made me anxious. I knew that only residents of the nearby apartments would be walking or loitering around here, but it was impossible to tell who belonged there or not, so seeing someone hanging around put me on edge.

I readied my keys in my grip, sticking them through my fingers in case I needed to punch someone and run. Not that it would do any good, I imagined. I wasn’t exactly a walking powerhouse. Try a five-foot-nothing med school chick in second-hand sneakers.

But my apartment door was up ahead, I rushed across the narrow strip of pavement that sliced through the unkempt patch of grass towards the steps. Practically running up them, I tucked my hair behind my ear as I lined up my key with the lock.

Ring, ring, ring.

Jumping, I nearly threw my keys through the door window. It was my cell, so I hastily reached into my bag for it and swiped to answer without even checking the caller ID. Big mistake.

“Hello?”

“Parker, where on earth are you? You can’t just close up your room and not answer my calls for months!”

Shit. Dear old dad had finally made it through to me.

“I’m not dealing with this, Dad. I’m attending school as an adult, for Christ’s sake. I don’t have to stay with you. I don’t want to! Stop calling me!”

There was a shuffle on the line right as I was about to swipe that beautiful red end button, and his voice hit my ear, stopping me.

“Don’t you hang up on me, Parker Kozlovsky!” Familiar fear slithered down my spine, and my fingers trembled. I need to hang up. Just hang up.

“You belong with your family. With me.”

Nausea pulled at my gut as I slumped against the door. Why couldn’t I just stop listening to him?

“No, Dad. I don’t—”

“We have a business to discuss, you and me. You can feel however you want, go to that fucking school, but you’re going to listen to me because what I have to say affects us both.”

“I…” My voice was thin and reedy, and I cleared my throat. “I’m not doing this, Dad. I don’t want anything to do with your loan sharking bullshit. Leave me out of this.”

Frustration gnawed so hard inside me that I thought it might snap my bones. I wanted to scream. I wanted to make a scene right here in front of my door. But I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Dad was miles away, continuing to con people into using him instead of a bank, and I…I just couldn’t go back there—I wouldn’t.

“Parker, you can’t—”

That was it.

“Actually, Dad. I can. I never want to hear from you again. You’ve ruined my life every damn day since Mom died, and I won’t put up with your shit anymore. You treat me like your own personal trash can, kicking me around and throwing your garbage down my throat. Hell, you probably don’t even remember what you’ve done because you’re so fucking drunk all the time. Well, I do and I have the bruises to remind me. So, get fucked asshole.”

I hung up, tossing my phone back in my bag, before I could hear another word from my sleazy, abusive father. But an odd joy filtered through the rage. I’d done it. I’d actually stood up to the jerk for harassing me and treating me like shit. I’d finally cut ties for good, and I was getting out from under his shadow.

Sticking my key in the lock and giving it a satisfied click, I stepped inside the apartment and closed things up behind me. I gazed around the simple white room, a wide grin spreading across my face. The flimsy blinds and worn linoleum floor were like works of art to me, filling me with joy and appreciation.

The house was quiet since I lived alone. Thank you, student housing, for agreeing to let me have a single. I shucked my jacket on the chair near the door, kicking off my sneakers right at the foot of it. The thin scrubs I had on did little to protect me from the cold, so I shuffled to my bedroom at the back of the apartment to throw on some pajamas.

I had a whopping two pairs of matching PJs now, and I chose the warmer of the two, fuzzy fleece and all. They came with a matching set of socks, and I pulled them on over the white ones I was already wearing. My financial situation didn't allow for any luxuries, so I kept the temperature in my apartment a bit lower to save on costs.

I mean, come on. Sixty-eight isn’t bad, right? Ha.

---