Page 41 of Righteous Deceit

“You disrespectful little bitch.” His spit slides over my skin as he yells.

It’s not impassioned or empty. The way he screams drips with his want to cause me harm, to inflict pain for daring to question him.

He pushes me to the ground, kicking at me until I’m flat on my back. Placing a foot against my throat, he pushes down. I should fight, but I don’t doubt for a single second that he would kill me. My surrender is self-preservation, but I still feel weak, and I hate that my want to survive has outweighed my will to fight the man holding my life in his hands.

“I could kill you, Alessia. Just like this and get away with it,” he whispers. “No one fucking questions me. No one, least of all my daughter.”

He lifts his foot, and I suck in a breath.

“I hate you,” I scratch out.

I should keep my mouth shut, but my hate for my father runs deep. I needed to say the words for sanity’s sake.

He kicks me in the face, and I twist my body into a ball, shielding myself from his assault and stifling the groan of pain caught in my throat.

My jaw and nose throb. Blood coats my hands as I cup my face.

“You’re pathetic. You can’t even fight back.” He walks away. “Speak another word to me again, and you’ll be living in the past tense like your whorish friend.”

I choke back a sob. “You killed her.”

He ignores me.

I lay on the ground, a storm bubbling deep inside.

He killed her and his unborn baby.

Bile rushes up my throat, and my skin burns with bitterness.

I pull myself to my feet, swaying on the spot.

His back is to me as he pours himself a drink.

My chest heaves, but a sense of calm overtakes me.

Using the back of my hand, I wipe the blood from my face, brushing it against my thigh. I hobble toward his desk and use it to stand straight.

He expected me to run away, and an exasperated sigh escapes his lips.

Still, he ignores me.

I pick up the first thing in my reach and move closer to him.

“I hate you,” I whisper.

He takes a breath to speak, but before he can, I stab the letter opener in my hand deep into the side of his neck.

Blood spurts from the wound, and he paws at the metal spike in shock. I take the opportunity to move again, grabbing the crystal decanter before me. Using both hands, I smash it over his head, jumping back as he falls to the floor.

Eyes wide with shock, he stares at me.

The broken end of the decanter sits in my hand, and before I let myself hesitate, I crouch down and stab it into the side of his neck not currently decorated with his letter opener. Blood spurts up like a fountain. I fall back in shock but fumble back to my feet as quickly as possible, afraid he’ll attack. I know he couldn’t possibly. He’s bleeding out in front of me. I’m confident I hit his carotid artery if the river of red gushing from the wound is any indication, but I need to be sure.

I place my foot against his neck, pushing my weight against his windpipe to cut off his air supply. It makes no difference since he’s choking on his blood.

“How does this feel? Your life at the mercy of yourdaughter.”

I can’t be sure he can even hear me, but still, I smile.

---