After all this time, after everything I’d put myself through, and she’d been there all along, brain fried with Stockholm’s.
“Sophia,” I said with a plea. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you before, but you don’t have to stay here. Just come with me, and I’ll get you out of here and safe. You can see your family again. He can’t do anything.” I gestured to Donicko. “You might not believe it, but I’ll protect you, I swear it.”
She looked to Donicko then back to me. “I don’t want to leave, Mason. I’m happy here.”
“You’re happy?” I asked, stupefied. “How could you be happy after everything he’s done? Do you not remember anything he put you through? Or how you felt when you were locked in that room in the basement? All those times I had to bring you food because you went days without being fed. Are you fucking delusional?”
I lost it. I couldn’t comprehend how she could want to stay. All those feelings I’d trapped so long before came storming out.
“He let men fuck you, Sophia,” I roared, trying to get her to come to her senses, but she just stared at me with…fear? She was looking at me like I was the bad guy.
I ran a hand down my face and tried to calm myself.
“You shouldn’t even try, son. She’s loyal to me.”
I scoffed. “She’s only loyal to you because you fucking brainwashed her. Look at her. She has a blank expression on her face. She has no more emotions left to give.”
I’d spend so many years feeling guilt, blaming myself for the way everything had turned out. I’d changed for her. I’d sold my soul for her. For what? For this? To look into her beautiful eyes and see she wasn’t even mentally there anymore?
I felt the pain in my chest at the thought of failing her once again, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t make her leave.
I bowed my head in defeat. I was mentally drained.
“You win. I don’t know why you play these games, but I can honestly say I don’t want to know. If she wants to stay,” I gestured toward Sophia, her head bowed again, “then she stays. But I will never give up on the promise I made to her. I will get her the hell out of here, one way or another.” I sighed and turned to leave, but had one last thing to say. “You think you might always be one step ahead, Donicko, but you’re not as astute as you believe.”
With one last glance at Sophia, I made my exit and walked out of Hell. I was stuck in a dream state as I got into my car and headed toward my house. So many things happened in one night, it was hard for me to process it all.
The only thing I understood at that moment was…Sophia is alive.
Twenty-one
Mason
I pulled the car in the drive and sat there as I collected my thoughts. I’d started the night nervous about what to expect from that meeting and ended up leaving with a multitude of emotions: rage, annoyance, guilt, emptiness, confusion. The main one was the self-loathing for even allowing myself to let Donicko get to me the way he did.
I slammed my hand on the steering wheel and took a deep breath before exiting the car and making my way into the house.
I tossed the keys on the table in the foyer and walked straight into my office, the bar in my sight. I needed to numb these feelings. It was all too much.
I grabbed the decanter of scotch, pulled the cap off, and brought the crystal to my lips, chugging as much as I could before hunching over to cough and gasp for air.
My body became flushed as the burning liquid poured down my throat and into my system. I closed my eyes and relished the pain. My throat felt like it was melting. I probably shouldn’t have chugged the bottle, but I needed the pain.
I needed the pain to wash away the pain.
That’s what it’s always been about. The pains of my past being replaced by the pains I caused myself. I was the one inducing the pain, no one else, and I planned on keeping it that way.
I left my office and headed up the stairs, decanter in hand, determined to get the night’s events out of my head.
Entering the weight room, I took one last gulp of scotch before placing the decanter on the shelf that held the stereo system, then ripped the button-up shirt from my body. The buttons went flying everywhere, but I didn’t fucking care. I tossed the damaged shirt to the corner of the room and walked to stand in front of my punching bag.
I tilted my neck from side to side then clasped my fingers together and lifted my hands above my head, stretching out my muscles. I moved to a fighter stance and stared at the bag as I started doing my fighting dance.
Images of Donicko’s face entered my mind and my fist flew forward, connecting with the bag and shooting the all-too-familiar pain through my arm. I did it again, and again, and again. I hit the bag until my knuckles became raw, then I hit it some more.
Donicko’s my father? I gritted my teeth and hit the bag harder.
Donicko kept Sophia all these years? I hit it again, leaving bloody streaks.