All Chapters of Her Neglected Scars: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

61 Chapters

ELEVEN: The Prize of a Lie

Did I hear that right?“Evangeline, dearest. I couldn’t be prouder. Your wedding to Konstantin in a week, and tomorrow, we’ll celebrate your engagement.” My father, Theodor Bennington, smiles at me with feigned fatherly pride. He’s not excited for me, but for when his plans finally commence. White boxes were being carried by dozens of maids lingering around back and forth from the outside. “B-but, he hasn’t even proposed yet.” I mutter, clenching the staircase railings. Father looks up at me, his excited face falling into annoyance as he barked another order on the last maid as to where to put the huge box in.“The rings will be delivered to our doorstep. End of discussion.” He announces before turning around to continue his routine, much to the servant’s anxiety. They could never take a break in this house, and yet articles still call this hellhole a fairytale’s palace.The only thing that’s fantastical about this place is that it has a torture room—The Dark Cell. That’s significant

TWELVE: Miranda Bennington

“I’m fucking sick of you always whining, Miranda. Caesar will inherit the company, and that’s the end of it!” I was ten, clutching the comfort my crocheted teddy bear gave me. It was Mom’s gift, and I’m staring at her as she’s being beaten by my own father.“That kid Caesar is a terrible choice for the company! She has the heart and the skills to lead! You’re too blinded by your prejudices to see it!” My mother argues.“Fuck prejudices!” He slams his fist on the table, causing it to shake. “It’s called tradition! Men are meant to run the business, not women. What kind of leader would a girl make?”“It’s about capabilities, Theodore! What about the way Caesar was treating Eva? You’re letting him abuse her!” Father grabs mom by the shoulders, furiously shaking her as she glares up at him.“Abuse? She’s being soft! If she can’t handle a little pushback, she’s not fit for anything!” He yells at her face while Mom was trying to break free.“She’s been through a lot. I won’t stand for this.

THIRTEEN: Engagement Parties and Severed Hands

Sage green eyes, black wavy hair, pale, unstained skin—at least to naked eyes, and a body to die for wrapped in a red, tube neckline satin gown which flows down perfectly on the floor, its tall, one-legged slit rides its way up its thighs. She’s staring back at me in the mirror with anxiety bubbling in her gaze.“Gown, satin—the hem is good, everything is great . . .” I glance to the side of the mirror.The designer was walking back and forth with her thumb between her teeth, fixing any last-minute designs on the gown as I stood on an elevated platform like a mannequin. “Turn to me, please.” I obliged, my back facing the mirror.My eyes catches the last of my whip scars—the very symbol of my survival in this household, now perfectly hidden beneath the fabric, and the large, long scars that rose through up the gown and crept all the way to my shoulders were meticulously concealed with makeup and wax.Talk about the best artists in history.“Should we take this off?” I glance down as t

FOURTEEN: The Car Empty of the Devil

The drive to the party was silent. The doorman sat right beside the driver, who was also silently managing the wheel. There was the beautiful bouquet and the smell of expensive wine that’s supposed to be shared by the two engaged people—who, by the way, doesn’t have the balls to show up to me right now—was the last hospitality they could give me. They didn’t have the courage to ask how I’m doing. Considering the guy I was supposed to marry sent me a ride to the party without coming along. Not that I would expect them to. These are Konstantin Morozov’s henchmen, built to intimidate and kill, not pamper a woman their boss is planning to dispose of once deemed unworthy.Finally, we arrived at the large mansion. It was filled with different classic cars parked in the corners, which tells me the guests were already here. Only to witness the fiance walking on her own inside.I inhaled a huge amount of breath and slapped my cheeks with both hands. It was the only loud sounds that cracked th

FIFTEEN: Names and Wedding Dresses

If I had to choose between being kidnapped and tied down to listen to children laughing at three in the morning or this, I would choose the former. “You seem to be enjoying this.” Konstantin’s icy breath fans my neck, a growl involuntarily leaves his lips. I am currently in his lap right now and we are reenacting a scene I tried so damn hard to burn into ashes from my memories. “I know that you know we’d both be paying each other to be a million meters away from ourselves right now.” I whisper, sweating from the proximity of our warm bodies.This lap dance was merely for the sake of the show, or rather the awkward host’s attempt to break the tension lurking in the air at the recent announcement of Morozov’s addition to the family. “Wow! We’re getting steamy, huh? This couple are partners to root for!” The host adds, his voice a screeching sound to the echoing microphone. It’s honestly making this experience a little harder to endure. It’s for mother. It’s for mother. It’s for moth

SIXTEEN: Rude Employees and Wrestling Go Together

“Eva! You’re finally here! I actually waited for you but the dresses were just calling me out!” She chuckles before waving her hands for the attendant to leave her be. She bows down before stepping off the platform. Wow, she is enthusiastic. That’s the total opposite of the shy character hiding behind Konstantin the entire night of the engagement party.Well, I guess it’s too hard to be judging a book by their cover.Irene Morozov smiled at me, the sun casting a glow on her face. She’s gifted. She’s god’s gift to all men. Honestly, I’m not being all judgmental but she looks like the traditional wife you would love to go home to after work because there will always be tasty food prepared on the table. “Right. I was uh . . . told to come here?” I mutter, confused as to whether this is actually my wedding fitting or hers. She’s already wearing a wedding dress. “Of course, of course! I’m sure you would want to look good if you’re getting married to Konstantin.” She smiled before pulling

SEVENTEEN: The Wedding

Well, Konstantin Morozov sure knew how to stir up some drama.I stood there for a good five minutes. The zipper behind my back was still loose. I could feel a ripping pain. The zipper must have gashed over from Irene forcing it to close.The boutique turned upside down when Irene’s bubbly character left the door.“Excuse me,” I jolted from the sudden voice behind me and I turned to look at the rude employee from earlier, her brows raised as she glanced down at the entirety of me.“Not to be rude but . . . I don’t think we have any sizes for you.” She shrugs and is about to walk away, her stilts clicking onto the marble floor. However, halfway to the door, she turned to me, pointing at the dress.“Are you even going to buy that? If not, I suggest you better take it off. We don’t offer your size, I suppose.”I look down at myself. The dress wasn’t at all flattering to my curves. It was a satin dress that didn’t have any intricate design. If I didn’t know it came from this store, I would

EIGHTEEN: Gowns and Anxiety

The wedding went by fast.So quick with all the feigned kisses I didn’t remember all the names which both cursed my hideous gown behind my back and introduced themselves to me with a smile on their lips.What I know for sure though is I am incredibly relieved I’m not once more drowned in people’s gossip and harsh glares inside the church with a sharp corset poking my ribcage—thank fuck I finally was able to convince my stylist to change considering we are now moving onto the reception on a different location now.The dress is still tight on the chest, and I was told it was Irene who chose this one.I’m glad it’s not insufferable but I sure would have been happier if she picked something that’s more loose.It’s not like we both have the same petite melons to go with.However, I don’t really think God is now permitting me to relax and have a peaceful and quiet moment all on my own.At least not yet.“Evangeline? Do you feel sick? Was I talking too much? I knew I shouldn’t have come here

NINETEEN: Torn Fabrics and Hearts

I stand there, the torn fabric fluttering against my back, feeling like every eye in the room is glued to me. Every judgment, every whisper, every damn snicker, and comment—all of it is burning through my skin.How the hell did this happen? Irene swore she’d double-checked the gown herself. She’d been the one volunteering to “make sure everything was perfect,” practically yanking it out of my hands last night.And now, here I am, exposed like some tragic joke at my own wedding.Tristan steps up, his face tense. He shrugs off his jacket, extending it toward me, and for one second, I think maybe this will end with a sliver of dignity. But before I can even take it, Irene appears out of nowhere, her voice a loud gasp. “Oh my god, Eva!” She drapes herself over me, hands all over the dress, pressing down on my shoulders, pulling the fabric around like she’s checking the damage.“You poor thing!” she announces, loud enough that half the room turns to see. “It ripped right in the middle of ev

TWENTY: Promiscuous Woman

It was time for the dancing. One thing I'm definitely not good at.The music starts. The kind of slow, sweeping melody that’s supposed to make you feel like you’ve stepped into a fairytale.Except fairytales don’t have bruises hidden beneath satin, or fathers who trade their daughters like currency. And they sure as hell don’t have men like Konstantin Morozov.His hand presses against my waist, his grip firm, possessive—he’s laying claim, even though I was never mine to begin with. My fingers rest against his shoulder, light but steady, and I pray to whatever cruel god is watching that I don’t fuck this up.He leads. I follow. It should be simple. It’s not.Every step is a battle. The weight of a hundred eyes digging into my skin, choking me. I don’t have to hear them to know what they’re saying.My dress glides over the floor, my heels clicking against the polished marble, my heart thudding against my ribs like a trapped bird.I can feel their whispers slithering through the air."She

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