“...The durak is here.”
The statement rings loud and clear in my ears, my gaze lowers to Vincent’s lips moving in painfully slow motion. Every emotion I have held in comes rushing back to me, then I see red. My fist connects with his cheek before I can second-guess the move, the crunching sound of bone meeting flesh sends a sadistic thrill down my spine and I punch him again, smirking at the undeniable pop that signifies a broken nose.
He doesn’t get a chance to recover because my fist comes at him again. His neck snaps to the side, blood splatters to his jacket and I shove him to the floor. Grabbing him by the collar, I rain numerous punches on his face, his neck, every open skin my fist can access. I want to kill him. And the voice re-echoing the shit he said about Sophie only fuels my anger. Why does he have my daughter’s name in his mouth?
Blood trickles from the fresh cut on his cheeks, quickly spreading to the white tiles. A female yells, I hear the sound of approaching footsteps and I pull the bastard up by his collar. “What did you say?”
Someone tries to grab me off Vincent, I ram my elbow into their side and a painful moan echoes behind me. Everything blurs except for Vincent’s bruised body on the floor, I kick him one last time in the side and storm out of the hotel. I should have smashed his head on the floor, painted the walls with his brain.
Enzo is waiting outside, I jump into the backseat and dig my fingers into my scalp. The weakling couldn’t even fight back. He should have fought back like a man. “Take me to the house,” I order. “The mansion.”
I feel his gaze on me but he keeps mute. The scenes replay in my head, the point until Vincent stepped out of the elevator. I run my fingers over my face and neck, smearing blood on myself. Maybe I heard wrong, it’s not my Sophie. Besides, how many people know Brianna used to go by the name Sophie?
“Enzo,” I call out to the driver. The car slows, Enzo turns to me. “You speak Russian, right?” He nods, I wipe my hands on my trousers. My Russian is rusty, it must be why I misheard Vincent back there. “Can you translate this for me?” Without waiting for his reply, I mutter, “Durak dumayet, chto on otets Sofie.”
The words roll off my tongue in a laughable accent, I might have found it funny on another day. French is easy, Russian sounds like a failed assassination attempt. Enzo’s grip tightens on the wheel, he murmurs, “The fool thinks he’s the father of Sofie.” Something thick clogs my throat, I inhale. I nod. I inhale again. I heard Vincent right the first time. He clears his throat. “Anything else, Sir?” I shake my head once, twice until my head is swinging like a pendulum. Enzo stops at the light. “Sir... You have blood on your shirt.”
I offer my thanks, shrugging out of the jacket to gape in dismay at the blood splattered on the front of my shirt. I look like I was in a pub fight and my lips twitch at the thought. A wave of tiredness collapses over me, my head rolls to the back and I release a deep breath. I can’t go to the mansion in this, it might scare El and the girls but I am too weak to do anything. The good part is, today is Thursday, the girls will be at school and Elna, at work, I’ll be quick. I just need to check on Brianna. To see and touch her again.
The adrenaline wears off, leaving a throbbing pain in its wake. My bloodied knuckles stare back at me, a smile lifts the corner of my lips. If I knew that wanker couldn’t fight, I would have beaten his ass a long time ago. I tense as the car approaches the street of the mansion. I don’t know what I expect to find in Brianna’s room but I can’t calm down until I see her. I need to see my little girl. How many years is it?
Nine? Ten? I want to pretend I lost count but it has been ten years and seven months since the accident.
The fool thinks he’s the father of Sofie.
What does that even mean? There was a DNA test, I insisted on it. There is no way in hell I will accept a child without a proper background check. I should have ignored that call from a random number. Nicole should have aborted the child like I asked her to. That lying bitch. I take a deep breath, she’s dead now. Died from an overdose. As much of a bitch as she was, she left me with a beautiful gift before leaving.
When the car stops, I am out of the door within seconds. I jog to the mansion, take the backdoor and speedwalk to my old office. The whole place has been swept clean, any evidence of my former existence wiped off. El and Sophia use the new entrance but I am so used to coming in through here. It always reminds me of the first time I brought El down there, how her silent but powerful presence lent me strength. That memory gives me courage each time I come here, I tap into it now and unlock the door.
The smell hits me first. An unidentifiable smell I have grown accustomed to. I walk further into the dim room, the only source of light is a natural glow from the streaks of sunlight filtering through the window. El likes to keep the window open sometimes, something about airing the room. Sophia says it’s fine so I am cool with it. I stumble to the bed, my steps slow and hesitant. I know what I will see but each time I am here, I hope to see something else. Maybe those amber eyes that are unarguably the same as mine.
I am her father. It doesn’t matter what that bastard says.
The bed dips under my weight, I push the stray hair off her face and press a kiss to her temple. A sad smile sprouts to my lips as my eyes roam her tiny body. Her skin is too pale, white as a sheet from the lack of direct sunlight. Her flesh barely clings to her bones. My Brianna can easily pass for a ghost, all bones and little flesh, scarcely breathing. On some days, I have to keep my eyes glued to the EKG machine to read the squiggly lines I don’t understand. As long as the lines are not flat, I know she’s okay.
She has to be okay.
At what point is it okay to pull the plug? I don’t know. If I ever pull it, can I live with the guilt?
Alexis Texas, a man in his late sixties was in coma for thirty years, he survived and now lives the rest of his life normally. Brianna is young with a bright future ahead of her, there’s still hope. There has to be.
I kick off my shoes and slide under the sheet, making sure to get rid of my bloodied shirt. Brianna is too pure to be tainted by my sins, she already did once. I touch her, my palm swallows hers and I chuckle slightly. If I so much as twist her wrist the wrong way, it will snap. The body contact comforts me, I lay on my side, a wry smile on my face as I begin to tell her about everything she has missed. How I punched a man today for being an asshole. I make sure to remind her not to take the same route as her father, violence doesn’t solve all. Plus, she’s a girl, I’ll have people do the beating for her. If only she wakes up.
“That’s all for now, I guess,” I say after long minutes of one-sided conversation. A dry chuckle leaves me, I shake my head and kiss her knuckles. Raising our interlocked hands to my eye level, I sniff. The ensuing silence hits differently. This time, it is too loud and it rips at my heart, piece by piece until I can’t hold my tears in any longer. “I just want you to wake up, you know?” I gaze at the ceiling through blurry eyes. It hurts too much. With El around, it was easy but now it feels like I am all alone and there’s nowhere, no one to run to. No one to come home to. “Bri, I need you to wake up so I know I did the right thing.”
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Update: It works. Once I publish, it automatically reflects in the app. Soo, I'm putting it out for the readers.
Do you want daily updates (Monday-Saturday)?
Should post the chapters at once on Sunday?
I'll be in the review section to know your opinion.