“Mmm,” he groans, stroking himself harder. I want to vomit. “Clan owes them a tribute, you see. Chief’ll pay big for a virgin. Temporary truce between clans comes to an end at the weekend. ’Twas only in place to get you through uni.”
How generous of them.
“When will they come?”
“Not sure,” he says. “But ye won’t come back. And Martin’s complicated things.” He says this last confession with a note of sadness in his voice, not because he’ll miss me, but he won’t be able to use me anymore.
“What do you mean?”
He shakes his head and doesn’t answer. What’s complicated?
I close my eyes and think of England, forming my plan while I draw him under a sex-filled spell, and when I’ve made my decision, I open my eyes. His eyes are closed, his head tipped back, his mouth open like a fish. I’ve got him right where I want him. I grip his hips and work his cock while I unbutton his holster.
I’m not turning back now. I know what I have to do.
I wait until my father and mother go for round two, and something smashes in the background, before I lift my head back and slam it straight into his hairy bollox.
He falls backward, astonished, his thick, ugly cock bobbing as he grabs for his balls. I bring my fist up and slam him right between the legs again. My aim is perfect.
With a curse and howl, he falls to his knees, but before he’s recovered I’ve got his gun at his temple.
“Shut up,” I tell him. I spit the taste of him onto the floor in front of me. He’s still gripping his balls, but it’s over now. I’ve got control, and he knows it. “You know I know how to use this gun, and I won’t hesitate. Do exactly what I say, and I might let you live.”
I couldn’t kill a man, even a filthy loser like him, but he knows my father will. His only chance of survival is to do what I tell him. I lift the gun, then slam it to his temple. He crumples to the floor, still half-dressed. My father will find him like this. He won’t live to see another sunrise.
I move quickly. I will not cry. I will not cry.
I take his wallet and open it. My heart gives a little leap. Yes. Must’ve won a bet or something, he’s got a wad of cash, at least a hundred euros. I take the cash and toss the wallet to the side, quickly scurrying to my dresser. I take a bag out of my closet, listening closely to be sure my parents are still at it. By the time I pull the zipper on my bag, they’re still going strong.
I take one long, last look at my childhood bedroom before I leave, but I don’t feel what I should. No remorse. No sadness. If I’m honest, I’m actually a little relieved.
Dermot was my only guard tonight, so it’s easy enough to sneak out of my room. I lock it from the outside. It’ll buy me a little time. I creep down the hall, but as soon as I turn the corner, I hear voices.
I flatten myself against the wall, and swallow my breaths.
“Saturday,” I hear. I focus, trying to identify the voice. Is it one of my dad’s guards? A new one, maybe? I barely recognize it.
“Saturday. My mother can fight all she wants, but the plan’s set in stone.”
I cringe at the sound of my brother’s voice. If he sees me, I’ll be taken back to my room, punished, and locked up until the wedding.
“Which is it?”
“Middle brother.”
“The big one?”
“Aye, the very same.”
“The fat, manky son of a bitch ain’t fairly matched to a lass like your sister.”
I immediately conjure up an image of an overweight, crass bastard that looks like the man I left in my room with his pants around his knees.
No no no no no.
I won’t. They can’t make me. I don’t care if I have to scavenge for food or clothes or a place to live. I’d rather be destitute than wed to a man I don’t love. It’s fucking modern-day slavery. I just have to get to England, and then I can easily blend into the masses of people there.
My heart pounds harder when I hear their voices come nearer. How will I explain the bag over my shoulder? The gun in my hand? Why I’m even out of bed in the middle of night like this? It isn’t allowed.
They talk about how the wedding will commence, who will facilitate, but I don’t care about what they say. They’re talking of a wedding that will never happen. All I care about is the direction of their voices.
They come closer. I flatten myself and pray, trembling against the cold white wall. Then at the last second, one of them turns around.