𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐞

07

*Warning mention of abuse, rape and strong language*

Third Person POV

"You fucking useless child!" The man screamed at the whimpering eight-year-old. 
 
"Did I say you could cry? No, I didn't!” She sputtered in confusion as he answered his own question.
 
"All you had to do was stay put in that room and not make a sound but you just had to make noise, didn't you?" He said grabbing her already bruised chin roughly.
 
"I-I'm s-sor-" She tried to stutter out but a hard slap across her face stopped her short.
 
"Did I tell you to talk? No. Then why the fuck are you talking!" He spit splattered with his screams.
 
He laughed madly as she fell to the floor 'so beautiful', he thought unbuckling his belt and pulling down him jeans, undressing slowly to taunt her.
 
Eight-year Sloan scrambled back to the wall begging him not to do it again. Not again it hurts so much she thought.
 
He enjoyed her begging.

END OF FLASHBACK
 
Blaise walked into the penthouse, exhausted after a long day at work. She found her children scattered across the house except one. She didn’t mention her first daughters' absence but went along to change out of her outfit and maybe catch some rest. Maybe as in there were too many people in the house to catch a peaceful rest.
 
She stopped outside Sloan’s closed bedroom door, contemplating. No way was someone going to stay the same after fifteen years but a parent can do no less but love and long for their child, no matter how long they weren’t there. Anyone could place Sloan’s silent looks; she didn’t want this but tolerated it. Blaise and Acel both feared that day in the next coming months when she turned eighteen and she would be gone.
 
It was unspoken between the two but it did hang heavily over then. It made the mission of building a relationship with their daughter more urgent.  Her leaving would be like losing her for the third and final time. First is when she was kidnapped, second when they had to accept the fact that she had died and third when she turns eighteen.
 
Almost amused in her sorrow at the irony of that she braved the extra feet and knocked on her door. She stood there waiting for response, hand  hovering to knock again. It occurred to her that maybe she wasn’t home but her car in the garage said otherwise.
 
For a long moment she contemplated the odds and tested them. The handle turned surprisingly and the door opened.
 
“Sloan, I’m sorry if I’m intruding but-" She stopped short upon seeing the darkness of the room. The only light seeping from the floor to ceiling glass windows that casted over the bed.
 
Her heart warmed uncontrollably as she took in the rise of the sheets on the bed that was obviously her sleeping daughter. It was hard to make sense of this all, how after years she was here with them, living, breathing. Neither parents thought they would ever see the day when this happened and they know that each time they think of it they shall question their sanity.
 
It should be easy to place reality from fake, well unless she leaves, which has a great chance of being inevitable unless they make the first step to building a relationship.
 
She dared to step forward and enter but shook her head and took the step back to leave. Not before closing the door did, she not see the sudden shift of the sheets and the shift whimper that shut through the silence.
 
On high alert for reasons that didn’t match the sounds she heard, she entered the room and moved towards the bed. Nothing looked askew when she came inside the penthouse but–
 
Her thoughts of the possibilities of an enemy being inside takes to the wind as she sees no one by the bed. Hands gripping the sheets with an immovable grip, Sloan whispered incoherently, deep in a horrifying dream.
 
“Please...”
 
Blaise's brow furrowed and she leaned closer and reaching for her shoulder. As soon as her hand landed on her clothes shoulder, Sloan gripped her wrist.
 
“Don’t touch me.”
 
Blaise took in how her eyes were still closed, head turned away as she shuddered deep in sleep.
 
“Sloan, wake up Sloan.” She said gently, reaching to tap on her arm this time.
 
When her eyes met the ones of her daughter, she drew back startled slightly. Letting go of her wrist with haste she shut up in the bed, sitting up right.
 
“Are you alright?” Blaise questioned softly, reaching out with her hand unbothered by the mark that remained on her wrist.
 
“Please leave.” Sloan grunted out, pushing back her hair and docking out of the way of her touch.
 
“Are you sure? I know we don’t know each other but you can trust us." Blaise said softly as Sloan got off the other side of the bed, back to her as she walked over to the floor to ceiling windows, mind scattered.
 
“Leave.” Her patience wearing thin she couldn’t utter anymore than the single word.
 
“Just reassure me that your fine first.”
 
Her shoulders rose with a deep irritated breath and she turned on her heel.
 
“Get the fuck out.” Slowly she whispered the words. She had patience, just not when it came to this and they only way for people to understand was to tell them what they wanted to hear. Once, twice you got respectful responses but it won’t continue if you keep pushing.
 
Blaise taken aback slightly, nodded and left. Sloan watched until the door closed shut before turning back to the window.
 
Her nightmares weren’t constant but they were uncontrollable and came whenever they pleased. On a good day, she would go to sleep and get no sleep at all because of them. Sleeping pills often worked but they never had a pattern to when they came and she was not going to take them every night so she just never took them until she had the dreams and needed to go back to sleep.
 
Looking at the time on her side table clock, she sighed and made to refresh herself before going downstairs for dinner that they insisted she attended.