Page 23 of Stolen Vows
The electronic door lock beeps as someone inserts their card.
My heart pounds in my ears.
Would Mario visit if he thinks I’m not wearing his gift?
I release a silent breath of relief when my father steps into my room, until I realize how closely he watches me.
“Are you done pouting, Valentina?”he asks.
I swallow and tug my shawl more firmly around myself.
“I wasn’t pouting, Daddy.My stomach still hurts.”
I disgust myself with my own words, but when he perks up at the mention of my menstrual cycle, I hide my disdain and pour a glass of water for him.
“You know you wouldn’t make it without me, right?”
I freeze as his voice comes from right behind me.
“Of course.”I clear my throat and turn around.He’s too close.“I’m sorry I was ungrateful.”His gaze roams down to my painted toes, leaving a trail of filth in its wake.“Here, drink this,” I say as I extend the glass toward him and take a small step to the side.
No longer trapped between him and the counter, I move to the sitting area and pretend as though everything is normal.
When my father finally leaves, I press my forehead against the door and just breathe for a few minutes.
With my shoulders back and my chin held high, I slip the shawl off my shoulders and pull the nightgown over my head as I glide across the room.
Goosebumps pepper my flesh as the cool air brushes over me.I add a sway to my hips as I unbraid my hair and run my fingers through it.With my heart in my throat and my uncertainty growing, I crawl across the mattress before I lose my nerve and slide under the covers with the grace of a goddess.
At least I hope I look graceful.I’ve never done anything like this before.
Confirmation comes in the form of another gift box.
The next night, a maroon lingerie set appears on my loveseat, and the night after that, a white set sits on the corner of my bed, each one a different fabric and style.
Daily life continues as normal, but every night for over a week, I give myself to Mario when I slip his gifts onto my body.
With how risqué his offerings become, I know he means to mock and belittle me, but I don’t care.My confidence grows every time I study myself in the mirror.
Until I wake one morning with a telling heaviness in my abdomen and painful cramps.I stagger to the bathroom and grimace at the spotting in my panties.The bubble I created around myself pops when room service delivers an anonymous gift with breakfast.
After opening the first gift Mario sent me at the start of the day, I pull my knees to my chest and rub my aching temples.
I can’t wear the thong or the push up bra, not with my tender nipples and need to wear a pad.
With a defeated sigh, I run my fingers over the pretty trim and carry the box to the bedside table before dragging myself to the bathroom to dress for the day.
Even though Mario is out for revenge, I won’t lie to him and pretend I’m wearing the garments when it would be so easy for him to prove I’m not.
Three days pass without incident.No other gifts arrive.My period never progresses beyond minor aches and light spotting.
Doubt and desperation plague me.I have no escape if Mario abandons me.In a pathetic attempt at power, I wear the thong and push up bra to bed, only to regret it the moment I slip under the covers.
I’m alone again.
The black cloud of depression hovers over me.Not even whispering my troubles to my mother helps.
Chapter 8
