"Do you want cream?"
"Oh, a pee fetish and a food fetish too? Kinky." Despite the fact he was still reminding me of that fateful night at the club, I let out a traitorous laugh. "You'll be lucky if you ever find out what I really like in bed, Roman...
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It wasn't the first time he'd slapped me and it probably wouldn't be the last. Almost every one of our arguments ended either in a screaming match, with me running out or with him slapping me.
The impact had me stumbling back into my brother who steadied me; my hand went to my stinging cheek. Tears stung my eyes as I glared at my father who still remained stoic as if he hadn't just slapped his daughter.
I held his stare as the tears spilled over onto my cheeks, not just from the slap but from all the memories that this argument had dredged up. The memories of the marriage and the whole thing with Grandpa Joe and the gym - all the memories were swirling around in my head.
"I hate you."
Although a whisper, my words lingered in the air while his expression remained cold. He didn't feel a thing, even when I said that.
Turning away from my father, my eyes caught onto my mother who was watching the exchange with a frown on her face. I turned to look at my siblings.
"Are you staying here?" Cristian shook his head, his cold glare still firmly focused on my father. "No."
"Get your stuff then, I'll be in the car." Without another word I left the living room, putting my shoes on to head out to my car. It was only when I was finally alone in my Audi that a sob escaped my lips.
I did my best to control it, covering my mouth to muffle any sounds as I struggled to contain my tears.
Nothing would ever change would it? No matter how much I tried to tell them that what they did to me and what they were now doing to Cristian was wrong, they would never accept it.
People in this life - the life of the elites, they didn't believe in love and romance. My parents weren't in love, their marriage was one for appearances and business too. But the thing is, the three of us felt that as we grew up.
For some reason I always thought they did love each other when I was very young, but then it all just stopped and reality set in. They didn't love each other.
We saw our parents fight, sometimes sleeping in separate rooms. We saw them ignore each other for days like the other didn't exist.
Our parents hated each other and it brought an unshakeable tension on our household. That was because the parents were the heart and soul of the home. Their shell of a marriage affected us and I was determined to never put my own children through the same thing - if I ever had them.
The only marriage I would ever have is one of love and care, one where we live by our marriage vows day in and day out. Where we're all each other needs.
My siblings quietly got into the car with their bags. They didn't need to bring huge ass bags with them since they already had so much at my house anyway. I had a three bedroom house and while the master en-suite was mine, the other two bedrooms I left for my siblings if they ever needed to escape from this hell.
