bound; governed by fate or extremely likely to occur.
"Face it, Marco. You and I are bound to one another. Even after all this time, even despite the consequences of our love, you can't keep yourself away from me-and neither can I."
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"My dreams are about to become his nightmares." - Santánico Pandemonium, From Dusk Till Dawn
—
Romessa gazed out the window of William's office, one hand on her stomach, the other gripping the armrest of her plush leather seat. It was mid-January, and she was officially two months pregnant.
She took a glimpse at her phone, then let out a breath. No messages from Marco, she thought. Of course. She knew it wasn't his choice for them to have no contact, just as it wasn't her choice to be sitting in her abusive fiancé's office. Christmas came and went; one happy day out of what felt like endless others that were filled with despair. Marco knew of the affair between Jessica and Robert, but what could be done? Both he and Romessa were at the mercy of Robert, William, and now Jessica. The only proof they had of the affair was the blurry photo Romessa had managed to take of Jessica and Robert a month or so ago—but if that photo made it to the public eye, Robert would punish Romessa by cutting off funding for her program, which would ruin her.
There wasn't a day that went by without Romessa crying after she'd been forced to leave Marco. She was desolate and lonely, often in pain from the harm that William constantly inflicted upon her, forced in isolation so that the public suspected nothing. But it wasn't like it mattered, anyways. She hadn't heard from any of her friends since the incident at Bella's wedding; even Cathy had stopped talking to her. Perhaps it was a fair price to pay for her violence, but almost every waking moment of every day, she couldn't help but wonder when it would end. Or maybe it'll never end, thought the Moroccan. Maybe this is the life I'll live forever.
She was again an outcast; just as she'd always been. She was an outcast when she arrived to America as a 6 year old, unable to speak the language and too traumatized to make friends. She was an outcast when she showed up to Germany months ago, a seemingly pretentious and bitchy 20 year old who most people perceived to be a threat. She had always been unlike her social circle. Despite her prolific appearances on everything from magazine covers to award galas, she would always prefer to be working; if it wasn't Marco, then she longed for the security of her office and her computer. She downplayed her intelligence around her friends, though she never needed to utilize it with them, anyways—it felt as though her brain was rotting away when she was forced to sit there and act like she cared about clothes, gossip, who was divorcing who. How ironic, she thought, as she watched Robert enter his office. I'm the gossip now.
She had flown to Stuttgart to meet with Robert and William at the Bundesliga headquarters, something that had kept her from sleeping the previous night. Athleta had finally been approved by business regulation to become a private company headquartered in Germany, a milestone she'd dreamed of achieving for so long. The meeting today would be to discuss the Bundesliga teams—ten in total—which would purchase the program for the next season, as well as how much the program would be placed on the market for. It should've been a happy day, filled with celebration and congratulations. Romessa was achieving her dream, but it didn't feel like it—it seemed more like a nightmare. She was a puppet on strings, achieving what was really the dream of Robert and William.
