CHAPTER 10
407 Words
HAYDEN'S POV
I returned to my room battered and bruised, my throat dry from all the screaming screaming. No one to offer me water, no shoulder to cry on.
I lay down, exhausted, trying to ignore the pain that kept shooting through my body.
I kept tossing and turning as I felt every dull ache pulsing through my skin as the night dragged on like an endless punishment.
* The Next Day*
Dark circles were visible on my eyes, giving a more harsher edge to me than usual.
I forced myself out of bed- something I hated doing the most, brushed my teeth and stepped into the shower.
If the whipping from last night was five times painful, then the sting of the water on my wound was ten times worse. I clenched my teeth, but the pain was unbearable. A scream escaped my lips before I could stop it.
In frustration, I punched the tiled walls repeatedly, splattering blood across the white surface. My knuckles burned but I didn't stop. It was the only way to drown out the memories.
As the water poured over me, I looked up at the showerhead, and for a fleeting moment,it felt like it was washing away my sins.
Done showering, I dried my hair, slipped on my silver-grey suit and prepared to leave my parents' house.
Passing by the dining hall, I met mom and dad having breakfast - I couldn't care less.
I pecked mom on the cheeks and rushed out as I heard her hurt voice in the distance, " Hayden, won't you stay for breakfast?"
In the comfort of my car, I finally exhaled the breath I didn't know I was holding. Being anywhere close to dad was suffocating and intimidating.
Sorry to disturb you, sir,” Jake’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “But have you seen the trending news?”
“Do I look like someone who wastes time on useless gossip?” I snapped.
He swallowed. “No, sir. But this one’s about you.”
I grabbed his phone, skepticism written all over my face. But when I saw the headline, I froze.
MAFIA HEIR HAYDEN REYNOLDS REPORTEDLY IN SEARCH OF A BRIDE
I sighed and rubbed my temples — a habit I’d developed whenever stress crept in.
Of course. My father’s handiwork.
And now, on top of everything else, I’d have to deal with this nonsense.
- Writer
