URIEL'S PARADISE

URIEL'S PARADISE

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꧁ℙ𝔸ℝ𝔸𝔻𝕀𝕊𝔼꧂

•𝑫𝒊𝒂-𝑹𝒆𝒙𝒂 𝑹𝒐𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒛•

I bounced the tennis ball on the white wall opposite me, letting the sounds echo around the room as I tried to block out the words of the psychiatrist.

"The thing is-"

"In conclusion, my father hates me," I say, cutting off the psychiatrist, who stares at me with a concerned look.

"That's not true. He loves you, that's why he brought you here, to heal." She reassured me I paid no heed to her, as she was just saying trash.

"How much is he paying you this time to torture me?"

"What?"

I scoffed, was she playing the dumb card here?

"It seems you're new here because I'm not. This isn't my first time here, so I know the drill. Daddy sends countless doctors here every day to bore me on how much he is doing this just for my safety and how much he loves me, keeps me locked for a while, and releases me." I mutter to the psychiatrist, whose jaw hangs open.

"You make rehab sound like an awful place."

"Because it is."

𝑹𝒆𝒉𝒂𝒃.

That word made me so pissed when I heard it.

Anytime my father thinks I'm rebelling against him, or I don't pick up his calls or follow orders, he ships me off to a Rehabilitation Center in Afghanistan.

I spent most of my birthdays and teenage years in this hellhole.

Every time I am released, I always sleep with a knife due to fear of being sent here again, but it seems I always do something wrong.

I stare at the mirror. My natural platinum blonde hair looked unkempt and my icy blue eyes looked dull.

I was told that I am a carbon copy of my late mom, she died when I was born and dad got rid of every trace of her except, well, me.

"Please! Let me go! Let me go!" A voice screeched through the hallways as I watched a woman in red scrub, being dragged away.

Red scrub a.k.a. Type R was for patients who were lost, they could not recover from their mental state.

Blue scrub a.k.a. Type B was for patients who were perfectly normal but locked up here as punishment to wallow in their thoughts, just like me.

Most of us end up getting mad, like that woman...she was a type B once until she let herself go.

"Miss Rodriguez," my head snapped to the direction of the voice. I haven't heard anyone call me that in two years, and only they knew that name.

A man in a black suit stood at the door holding a phone in his hand and stretching it towards me.

I grabbed it from his hand, placing the mobile on my ear, "hello?"

"Dia..." A tear slipped from my eye when I heard my father's voice.

"Daddy?"

"It's time to come home, my love," he replied, hanging up while I handed the phone back to the man.

There could only be one reason daddy would call me back home this early. 𝒊 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏.

"This way, Miss Rodriguez." The man ushered while I gave a nod to the psychiatrist walking out of this hellhole.

My name is Dia-Rexa Rodriguez, a.k.a. Paradise, I am Twenty-two years old, and I am the last daughter of a powerful man. Men call him Diablo, but I just call him Dad.

My Father had four children; Damon, Selena, Knox, and Dia-Rexa which is me. Before my grandmother died, she always said I was my father's favorite, Heck, if I ever believe that.

He never locked up my siblings, my siblings and I were never really close except for my eldest brother Damon.

From when I was three I was taught combat, assassination skills, hacking skills, and a lot more.

I was given a dagger for my fifth birthday...a dagger I accidentally stabbed Selena with when I was seven. That was the first time I was sent to rehab.

I was still in my blue scrub, as messy as I looked, seated in a black Porsche while my father's Villa came to view.

"We have arrived at the Rodriguez Villa." The driver announced, making me roll my eyes. He says it as if I weren't born here.

As we stepped into the villa, I noticed a woman standing in the middle of the staircase in a black dress and a scowl on her face.

I recognized that scowl anywhere, it was my elder sister Selena, with her jet black hair and gray eyes.

"The prodigal child is home..." She announced trailing down the stairs.

"Oh, please don't call me your name, I'm not the one who runs off with dad's money to squander in some club," I state, her eyes running wide, We were always bickering at each other ever since the dagger accident.

It was her fault she got stabbed, she made me lose my balance, and it's her fault I was sent to rehab.

"You bitch!" She exclaimed while I faked a yawn, Her gray eyes narrowed.

"Sis, please, stop calling me your names."

"Stop it! Both of you." We both turned to see our eldest brother, Damon.

"Didi!" I called out to him, earning a smile from him, his arms wide open, ushering me in for a hug.

"Rexa, how are you?" He asked, truly concerned, the whole Selena rushed past us.

"Good luck at the club you're off to! I hope you find a man who will bang that sorry ass of yours!" I yelled at her.

"Motherfucker." She yelled back.

"I don't remember fucking your mother." Yea, Selena and I weren't from the same mother. Her mother was a stripper who somehow got into my dad's bed and had her.

Her mother didn't even want her, but my mother, before she died, adopted her even though she was a product of her father's unfaithfulness.

"Stop it Rexa." Damon shunned still hugging me, I sighed there was no use arguing with a dog.

I was the only one among my siblings with platinum blonde hair, they all resembled my father, except for my brothers who got mom's icy blue eyes.

I always looked like the adopted one, even though I was more legitimate than that Selena bitch.

"How are you?" He asked again, concern still laced in his voice. "I should be fine."

I had settled in and was dressed in gray sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt with my gray fluffy slippers, my hair was back to its vibrant color after hours I spent in the bathroom was packed in a ponytail and my eyes were getting brighter.

I missed all my outfits, I missed my hellhole of a home.

Everywhere is a hellhole except for my giant suite of rooms.

I walked down the stairs where my father stood, embracing me in a hug. "Dia...welcome home."

"Thank you, father." He nods, placing his palm on my cheek, I notice some gray strands in his jet-black hair.

"Have dinner and rest well, tomorrow evening we have a lot to discuss."

"Of course father." My smile faltered a bit.

Of course.