Page 1 of Shattered Saint
BIANCA
A LITTLE MORE THAN TWO YEARS AGO
The warm summer breeze that drifted into my room should have left me feeling relaxed. Instead, I was staring down at the half-empty bottle of vodka contemplating if I was going to drink from it. Everything in me screamed not to do what I was thinking about doing, but the will to stop was nowhere to be found.
Anxiety and panic were closing in on me. I knew it was only a matter of time before I succumbed to it and ended up curled into a ball on my bathroom floor, wishing that I would die right where I laid. I needed an escape, even temporarily, from the pain I was feeling.
I walked out onto my balcony and stood there for a moment. With the number of cars that were parked outside my home, I could only imagine how many people were downstairs.
My fingers trembled as I adjusted my hold on the bottle. Deep down, I knew I was being foolish for doing this, but that had never stopped me before. Without another thought, I uncapped the bottle and brought it to my lips. I could feel the tears sitting in the corners of my eyes. In one swift motion, I downed some of the liquid. I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed the warming sensation following the liquor as it traveled down my throat.
As the alcohol moved through my body, I closed my eyes, tears threatening to fall. The light breeze was a strong contrast to the heat that filled my body. Alcohol was excellent at numbing the pain, but I knew it wasn't something I should rely on. Yet I still did.
With a heavy sigh, I walked back into my bedroom, shutting the glass doors behind me. I put the vodka back in its hiding place and took a breath mint in an effort to mask the smell of what I'd done.
I jumped when a loud thud brought my attention to the door. It was a sound I’d been anticipating yet it still felt as if it had come too soon.
Shit.
It was time.
My attempt at procrastination was over.
While I wanted to stay in my safe haven, that knock on the door was the sign that my solitude was about to come to an end.My pulse quickened as I inched closer to the door. I should have been prepared for what was about to come, but I wasn't. Now, there was no turning back.
Being alone was usually a source of comfort for me and before right now, it had been hours since I’d been alone. My mother hired a team to turn me into the belle of the ball and after they left, it was just me and the silence that I both loved and feared.
My fear was due to being left with my thoughts, and the anticipation of what was to come tonight had nearly made me throw up.
As I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror near my door, I couldn’t help but think that at least my mother couldn’t complain about my appearance tonight. My blonde hair was down in loose curls, falling along my bare shoulders. My tea length cocktail dress was navy blue and I paired it with nude-colored pumps. I had been made into the perfect image of the mirage I was supposed to uphold tonight. All that mattered was that my parents were pleased with how I looked, and now it was time for me to leave.
As my fingers touched the doorknob, my body trembled slightly. My grasp on the metal made me realize how nervous I really was. My hand’s clamminess made the coldness of the knob more shocking and forced goose bumps to appear on my arms.
I hated that I'd been forced into this, but there was no way I was admitting that out loud. Not that anyone would listen to me anyway.
Thankfully, I wasn't going into this situation completely blind. I had an idea of what to expect. Yet I still felt as if I was being thrown to the wolves.
Questions about whether this would be worth it in the end circled my brain, but there wasn't much I could do about it now. I had to open the door and step through it, no matter what the consequences.
I steeled myself and twisted the doorknob, opening it up to a world where money ruled everything. I found my mother standing on the other side of the door.
I watched as her heavily made-up face looked over me, probably impressed with the work her beauty team had been able to perform. When she finally met my eyes, a look of disappointment crossed her face.
She stared at me for a moment, but didn’t say a word. I waited for her to mention that she smelled alcohol, but she didn’t. If I had to guess, between the mint and how distracted she was by everything else, me drinking something hadn’t crossed her mind.
“Bianca, it's about time you came out of there. We need to get downstairs before your father notices that neither of us are there."
I was certain the chances of my father realizing I wasn’t there were low. I struggled to hold my tongue. The right thing to do would have been to just agree and then make my way downstairs, but for some reason, I couldn’t.
"He’ll be okay. It's not like he's going to pass out and fucking die."
"Bianca, watch your mouth. Just because you're legally an adult, doesn't mean I'll tolerate that type of language in my house. Especially tonight."
I rolled my eyes and debated saying the insult on the tip of my tongue. Was it really worth the fight tonight? Probably not, but I had a hard time backing down from anything.
With a heavy sigh, I bit my tongue. This time, I would be the bigger person, but I wouldn't make any promises that this would always be the case.
"Fine. Let's go then."
