Chapter 47

Mikhail.

I parked my car in front of the house that I once called home—a mansion where I had tried to leave behind all the memories of my childhood. But instead, those memories followed me around, buried in my subconsciousness and waiting for the right moment to jump out and remind me that I wasn't the tough, arrogant person I thought I was.

Slamming my hand against the steering wheel, I wanted to scream into the night and drive off without anyone noticing I was here. But it was too late for that. If I really wanted to see her, I had to do so today.

I picked up my phone and glanced at the text Zach had sent me earlier. "Your father has gone on a trip for a few days. If you want to see her, you have to do so today." It read, and I squeezed the phone in my hand before throwing it on the passenger seat.

I took a deep breath as I looked outside the window at the tall building. Our house was twice as big as the one I stayed in at my estate. I knew every room and every scratch on the wall. Its dark shadows cast a scary figure on the floor, and I sighed before opening my door and stepping out into the cold night.

Glancing up at the sky, I remembered how many times I had wanted to come out here when I was younger. Someone at school had claimed that if you stood under the stars for five minutes, you would teleport to wherever you wanted. Stupid six-year-old me had believed it, and when my father had caught me, let's just say I was teleported back to the cold, dark basement. I shivered at the memory before tucking my hands into my pockets and heading towards the big black gates, where I knew the security cameras were watching.

The gates opened immediately, and I walked into the large compound. The huge fountain was still at the center, with water spraying out of it almost magically, but I knew there was nothing magical about this place.

I observed my father's Ferrari parked to the left and the rest of his cars in the garage. Other than that, the house was pretty quiet and almost empty. I didn't want to do this. Everything screamed within me to turn back and run away as fear started to creep up my spine. Even while he wasn't here, I still couldn't be normal. It was like he was buried deep in my head, telling me every single thing to do and promising me death if I didn't obey.

I pulled open the heavy doors, and a sudden aura of sadness filled me as I stepped inside. The house was dimly lit, save for the hallway lights. I knew by now the maids would have gone home, as my father never allowed any sleep in his home. Meaning she was all alone in this big, lonely, dark house. My eyes watered, and I sniffed back the tears. This was the first time I was coming to see her in years, and while I knew it was unfair and cruel, I couldn't get over my fear of my father to see her.

A feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, and I looked around for the stairs. As I climbed up, I tried to block out the memories that came with every single step. They rushed into me all at once, and I had to stop for a while to take deep breaths.

I wanted to run away. But I couldn't. I just couldn't.

I tore my gaze away from the family portrait on the wall as I reached the first floor, where I knew she would be. I didn't want to see any image that showed me how much I looked like the person I feared the most.

I reached the last door in the hallway and stood in front of it. I realized my hands were shaking, my palms sweaty despite the cold AC that chilled the entire house. My breathing became labored as I staggered backward. I could almost see her, feel her, and hear her on the other side of the door, separating us. I raised my shaky hands to the door and placed them against it, wishing it could melt away so I could see her.

It took another ten minutes before I finally touched the doorknob with shaky fingers. I pressed it down as cold air hit my face from the room. I pulled the door open and stood still in the hallway. The room was huge, as it had always been, and I could see my younger self running in here for protection every night. The large dresser was still to the left, resting against the huge wall.

Paintings of different types of pianos were neatly placed on the walls. She had a whole wall dedicated to her art. Her fingers were the only magical things in this place—they played the piano and captured moments on a canvas.

My father had forbidden her to paint any pictures of me, so she mostly had pianos, landscapes, and occasionally a dog. I stepped in, feeling a heavy weight on me as I staggered to regain my composure. The picture of the white husky still hung on the wall, and I remembered saying I would get one someday since my father had forbidden any form of pet in the house.

A painting of the exact piano I had in my house stood beside it. The piano had been the only thing I had taken from the house when I left. She had painted it because it had been her favorite.

I forced myself to look away from the paintings, as each one held a story and a memory that I had locked inside. I walked softly into the room. The smallest light was switched on, so it wasn't dark and I could make my way around. The curtains were closed, dark drapes shielding the night sky. I wanted to draw the curtains open because it was only a matter of time before I started feeling closed up.

I stopped in my tracks when I saw a figure on the bed. The huge queen-sized bed almost didn't make the body on it noticeable, and at this point, I wanted to run away as fast as my legs could carry me.

Lying on the bed was the person who had stood in front of me and faced my father's wrath, taking all the beatings, the yells, and the insults. I took careful steps forward, and I came in contact with her face. Her golden hair, which had once been vibrant and colorful, and full of life, was now a dull orange sprayed around her in deep waves.

Her eyes were sunken in their sockets as they were closed, and her long lashes rested carefully on her cheeks. Her round cheeks were now sunken, and I could see her cheekbones more visibly now. A huge scar ran down from her temple to her lips.

Those once pink lips had kissed my forehead a lot of times to assure me that I was safe.

She looked so different after so many years. She was smaller and even appeared shorter. I looked down at her frame. Her hand came out from the duvet covering her body, and long scars and belt marks ran down from her arm to her wrist.

Battle scars, she had called them.

We all had one, and while mine weren't only on my body, they were in my mind too.

My mother, as she lay here, was just a shell of the woman I knew.

Her frail arms had once held me or pushed me away from my father's hits. They had wrapped around me, shielding me and protecting me. Now they lay like they couldn't even move.

A tear escaped my eyes and dropped to the floor. The scar on her face was new. It was like someone had taken a rough blade and run it through her face, almost blinding her right eye.

Another tear escaped my eyes, and I reached out my hand to her, softly stroking the mark that ran across her face. It did nothing to sully her beauty, though.

She was still the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

The moment my skin came in contact with hers, waves ran through me, and I had to stop myself from wailing and waking her up. This was the only time she ever did look peaceful, and even now, when her brows furrowed, I knew she was having a nightmare.

We both did.

We were the same on so many levels, and it hurt me that I was separated from her and not talking to her about the things that bothered me.

I wanted to tell her about Ava because that was all I could think of every single moment since she left today.

But I couldn't. I only had a few moments before the monster came home, and I was too much of a coward to see him.

My mother stirred, and I snatched my hand away from her and staggered backward as she opened those eyes.

My world froze around me at those blue eyes. They were once filled with joy and peace, but now they held so much pain and tiredness.

I stumbled backward, almost knocking off a stool of her paints, as I tried to get a grip of myself.

"Mik?" Her voice sounded like the sound of rushing waters. It soothed my ears, and another tear slipped past my face as she stared at me in shock.

"What are you doing here? Your father?" she asked as she looked around the room fearfully, trying to sit up.

I couldn't find my voice as I struggled to get back on my feet and ran out of the room, out of the house, and back into my car.

I slammed the door hard and burst out in tears. It was the first time I was wailing in years.