Green-eyed girl

Chapter 8

*Dominique*

After meeting all of my cousins, my uncle, their wives, and my grandparents, I was sent up to my room to get freshened up for dinner and a family meeting.

Dread fills my stomach, and I completely regret my decision to run.

When I get into my room, I lock the door.

I get into the bathroom and lock it as well to make myself feel safe.

Dimming the lights, I strip out of my clothes, I really don't want to look at all the scars and bruises that cover my body.

I step into the shower, and when the water comes in contact with my skin, I hiss.

I run my hand over my stomach and feel the slashes of raised skin up and down my ribs.

I press down on one of the scars.

My breath hitches, and I wince as a sharp pain shoots through my ribs .

I hold my breath for as long as I can because the pain is less intense when I'm not breathing.

Shit

I push the pain into the back of my mind, then tilt my head back under the water, soaking my hair.

I can worry about my ribs later. 

Right now, I have figured out what I'm going to say to all the questions that await.

I step out of the shower and  put my hair into two braids, and cover the bruises on my neck .

Wrapping a towel around my torso, I unlock the bathroom door and instinctively walk into the closet.

It's filled with all the clothes I bought, and more.

slip into one of the hoodie sets I had bought.

***

I'm about to open the door of the dining room when someone grabs me by the wrist and drags me away from the door.

I pull my hand free of their grip.

I  look up at the man. He has a buzz cut, chestnut brown eyes, and he's wearing an all black guards uniform.

"Es-tu stupide? Personne d'autre que les serveurs n'est autorisé à dîner, pas même les putes." He whisper yells (Are you stupid? Nobody, but the waiters are allowed to dine, not even whores.)

Whore?

 He thinks I'm a fucking whore?

I give him a confused look.

I decided to play dumb and act as if I don't understand.

"Vous ne parlez pas français, n'est-ce pas?" He continues when I don't respond, "Quelle bonne pute ñ'est pas bilingue."(You don't speak French, do you?)(What a good whore is not bilingual.)

I'm about to go off when then door  opens and Alexandre calls out to me.

"Come on baby sister everyone is waiting on you and I'm starving."

I smirk as I watch the blood drain from the guards face 

I give him a big smile and a wave and walk into the room.