forum In Fair Verona // Modern Romeo and Juliet // Private RP - CLOSED

Started February 05, 2019 by @blue_topaz

tune

“Less thinking, more feeling.” I complained softly, blatantly seeking out more affection. I peppered Juliet’s cheek with butterfly kisses.

I let my mouth brush over his neck, soft and affectionate—–nothing desperate or teasing. "Sorry…."

“Don’t apologize, love. We just have so many sad moments. I want to savor this. Savor that I got to wake up to your beautiful face a few minutes ago.” I sighed in content, a lazy smile stretching across my face with ease.

"Savour….." A sigh passed my lips. When was the last time I savoured something this sweet? "What time is it?"

“I don’t care.” I mumbled, snuggling closer. “Scratch my head.” I demanded sleepily, hugging Juliet as close to me as I possibly could.

I pressed my mouth against his skin, barely registering what I was touching and how long my hands spend in his hair. A thick fog had suddenly and spontaneously descended over my already-exhausted mind, and I was just…. done.

I shut my eyes as Juliet’s slender fingers teased through my hair. Her lips brushed up against my neck, melting me on the spot. I allowed myself to relax into the welcoming haze that accompanied Juliet’s calming presence as I slipped back into unconsciousness.

I awoke, hours later, to knuckles tapping harshly on wood.

A groan escaped my lips in subconscious response to the abrupt sound, not to mention the painfully bright light filtering through my eyelids. For a few moments, I drifted around in a hazy fog, anchored half-heartedly in a fleeting remnant of sleep by the warmth pressed against my body. But as the hollow sound persisted, I forced my eyes open.

The first thing my dazed brain registered was Romeo. The lazy, angelic smile tracing his mouth, his ruffled hair, the fact that he was practically on top of me. A sleepy sort of euphoria bubbled up through my chest. I sighed in contentment, opening my mouth to murmur a soft greeting, and….

"Julieta!"

Utter terror exploded through my body. Everything was freezing, my blood an icy slush, my body trembling from instinctual fear at the sound of that voice—–

I slid out from beneath Romeo and onto the ground. My heart pounded out a cacophony of panic, my mind too cluttered to fire out a coherent thought, except for this; Romeo and I had fallen asleep. My father was back from his trip, it was well into the morning, and my secret Montague lover was still slumbering peacefully in my bed.

"I–I'm coming!"

I blinked awake at the sound of Juliet’s voice. Had she not sounded so panicked I would have snuggles back up to her with a soft ”Morning, Love.” But something was clearly off. I sat up, blood rushing to my head as I tried to gain my bearings.

Romeo moved, and I had no time to think. I just slapped my hand over his mouth and yanked him over the edge of the bed, pushing and shoving until he was firmly wedged beneath my bed. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. My mind was buzzing with panic, white, blank, and utterly overwhelmed, but I somehow gathered the wits to pull the end of my duvet over the side of the mattress.

I stumbled towards the door.

I stifled a pained yelp as Juliet stuffed me under the bed, cradling my broken arm. It took me a few moments to realize why she had done it, panic flooded my stomach, leaving me to feel weak and nauseous as I listened intently.

My fingers fumbled with the lock on my door for a good ten seconds before I managed to fling it open. My eyes met harsh bronze ones, and icy dread pooled in the pit of my stomach.

"Sir—–"

A harsh slap across the face cut me off. I fell silent, trembling, as my father took my appearance in—dishevelled hair, a rumpled nightgown, hands clenched into tiny fists. Finally, his voice slid to my ears like a venomous snake, coiled to strike. "It is nearly nine-thirty, Julieta. Explain yourself."

No. No. No… Please, no. Anything but this… A million thoughts crashed into my head all at once. My hand clenched into a fist, but I convinced myself moving would only make things worse for Juliet.

He stepped forwards, I stumbled back.

The door slammed shut behind him.

I knew what was going to happen with absolute certainty, felt it in my blood, my bones, the instinct that had lodged itself in my chest over the years. But I struggled to form an excuse anyways, desperate to escape from the inevitable. "I just—slept in—didn't hear my alarm—"

Though my head was bowed, I could head Angelo's belt sliding from his waistline to his hands. But then—he went still. I dared to look up, followed his piercing gaze back to the bed with a thundering heart—–and saw a slash of white between the sheets.

"Who's shirt is that, Julieta?"

No, no, no… This was all my fault. I couldn’t even breath if I wanted to, stuck in place and frozen with fear.

I never imagined a fear like this would be possible.

This was beyond terror, beyond panic. There were no words in either of the languages I knew adequate enough to describe what I was feeling. A tsunami of emotion crashed against my trembling figure, robbing me of all logic and reason, reducing me to a trembling, blubbering husk.

“That’s—I meant to return that to—to Joe——he didn’t have space in his backpack for it, so he—“

A fist across the face sent me tumbling to the ground. My father stepped over my body, so painfully close to Romeo now that my heart stopped beating entirely, and lifted the crumpled shirt from the bed.

And, thank god, it was just a white monochrome t-shirt. Nothing that would tie it to Romeo, nothing noticeable or unique—just a shirt. But it was clearly a men’s shirt, and much too big for me.

Angelo turned to me with fury in his eyes and planted one foot in the centre of my chest. “You bitch.”

I felt tears slip down my face. Juliet was so close to me and yet I was completely helpless. I couldn’t protect her no matter how much I wanted to.

A sob rose in my chest, but I quickly smothered it. Any noise could mean death now.

(Trigger Warning - Violence, abuse)

I curled into a tiny ball, but Angelo grabbed hold of my arm and wrenched me into a standing position.

“Do you have any idea how much effort I put into getting you a union with Paris?” When I didn’t respond, he slammed me against the wall. I went completely limp, like a rag doll. Resistance was futile, and so was hope—there was nothing to do now but bear the pain.

“Who is he? Who did you sleep with?” I shook my head, lips sealed tight. I had failed in every other way, and I was not going to fail in this one.

My father put his face close to mine, eyes smouldering. “Who. Is. He?” And, the more times I refused to answer, the worse my punishment became.

Cheating whore.

Lying bitch.

Disgusting.

Pathetic.

My father’s words hit me hard, but not nearly as hard as his fists. I took blow after blow, staggering beneath the weight of each hit, wiping the blood from my nose with the back of my hand just as he struck me again. Whimpers and cries spilled from my bloodied lips, but my hopeless pleas fell on deaf ears.

By the time he was finished with me, I was broken and bleeding on the ground.

“If your dear husband-to-be asks..” His breath was cool against my ear. I resisted the urge to heave. “You got into a horrible fight. Montagues assaulted you. If his family hears the slightest whisper of how much of a slut you’ve been, you’re dead. You hear me?”

I could only manage a nod.

Fury made my hands shake and silent tears of frustration slipped down my face. All I could do was wait. Wait for it to end. I breathed through gritted teeth, my heart pounding against my ribs. Every second was agony. Like my heart was burning and wrenching in pain. Juliet…

I didn’t move, not even when the door slammed behind my father’s back. Not even when his footsteps receded down the hallway. I just lay there like a broken rag doll. A marionette with its strings cut. Lifeless, worthless, tossed aside.

Pitiful.

I knew, even without lifting my pounding head to look in the mirror, how awful I looked. There were no strategically placed cuts and twistedly aesthetic bruises. This wasn’t anything that would be seen in a movie about criminals and gangs. I knew with an awful certainty that purple blotches marred nearly every inch of my skin. I could feel the blood smeared down my cheek, my neck, my collarbone—it was still gushing from my nose. And the pain? It was worse than anything I had ever experienced.

I spent no time hesitating. As soon as Angelo’s footsteps vanished I was struggling clamber out from underneath the bed in a frenzied panic. “Jules— I’m so sorry. I—“ My breath hitched in my throat as I saw her, a fresh bout of tears welling up in my eyes.

I tried to lift my head at the sound of Romeo’s voice, but even the slightest movement sent the whole world spinning around me. I slumped back against the floor instead. I was sick with dizziness, sick with pain—but even so, relief threatened to overwhelm me. Romeo was okay. My father had been too enraged to search for him.

We were both alive.

“Romeo—“ A whimper cut his name short. “The—the door. Lock the door.”

I gasped, frozen in place before I weakly nodded. I ambled over to the door, locking it with a gentle click. “Jules….” I rushed clumsily across the floor, collapsing onto my knees in front of her. “I’m sorry— this is my fault.”

A hacking cough shook my trembling body—and a bloody molar flew out of my mouth. It skittered across the floor, leaving a faint trail of red speckles.

“Not—My fault. It’s my fault.”

“Shh… Shh… don’t talk like that, darling. I’m going to make everything okay.” I assured her, fighting off the sob rising in my throat. Never before had everything seemed so… so hopeless. But that didn’t matter— I forced myself back into the present. Juliet needed me and I would be whatever she wanted me. Her boyfriend, her nurse, her therapist, her hope. “Do you have a first aid kit?”