Excerpt of the story:
"My uncle used to say Hades left the Underworld for Persephone, and I thought how stupid was that, like why would he leave for a girl? And I think I finally got why he did it." His eyebrows furrow, making him appear deep in his...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
διαφυγή (Escape)
"Shhh. Don't tell your mother. When you're a man, you'll understand." Father said pulling me to the side in a rush as he crouched down to my level. He was half naked, with his belt hanging loosely through the loops of his jeans.
I was 10 when he told me this, the first time he caught me watching, but not the first time I saw what he was doing. The first time I saw him, I remember hearing sounds. Loud, annoying screams, like someone was shouting in pain. I tip toed closer to where the sound was coming from, curious and scared, was someone hurt? I saw Father's office door slightly ajar, and I peeked in. A similar half naked, unfamiliar brunette laid on his table, the source of the screams, but she didn't look like she was in pain, her face contorted into something else, pleasure? Father's face resembled the same expression and he looked like he was pushing into her, pushing what?
"Rio!" Tío Mateo roared from the bottom of the staircase. He ran up to me and carried me in his arms, away from Father and the woman.
"Who is that?" I asked Tío Mateo, pointing to the Father's office door.
"No one important. Don't go near that door again, Rio. Understand?" He asked, putting me down on the floor.
"Yes, Tío Mateo." I said.
And God, I wished I heeded his advice, but the sounds, they haunted me, I hated them. Some days, the door would be closed and locked, while some days he'd probably forgotten. I urged to close the door to escape those stupid sounds, but not even the walls could keep the woman's screaming at bay.
While Father was busy fucking his secretaries, Mother was always unhappy and miserable. She knew about Father's affairs but never interfered. After giving birth to my sister, Mother closed herself off from the world and only indulged herself in the scent of roses, everyday longing to go back to her home country.
Mother wasn't Spanish, she grew up in the UK, where she first met Father, the heir to López Industries at that time. Arranged to marry him, she moved to Spain as Father took over the company. And then, I was born. The next heir.
When I was 12, Father and Mother decided to send me off to a boarding school in the UK. It was both depressing and relieving to leave home. Leaving meant not seeing my sister, and she was the only reason I tolerated my parents. I decided to continue my studies in the UK, and so when I returned to Spain when I was 18 to claim the trust fund Abuelo left me, I knew what I was getting myself into.
"Maldita desgracia!" Father's voice boomed through the hall. "You're not fit to be my son." (Fucking disgrace!)
I casually sat on the luxurious, black couch, leaning against it with my ankles crossed, not saying a word. Mother sat beside me, stroking my arm, ignoring my father, "What are you planning to do then?"
