"I wish that you could see the pain that I've seen"
Malia scarlet POV
Rule number 1: never look him in the eye
Rule number 2: only wear what he says you can
Rule number 3: never say "NO"
Rule number 4: don't leave without permission
Rule number 5: only speak when spoken to
Rule number 6: there's no escape.
"Stop please". I whispered in a raspy voice I could hardly recognise anymore. just as I received another punch to my stomach which resulted in me coughing up more blood onto the ground. I no longer had the strength the hold myself up so I let my arm slip and back into the position I was in, on my back. I didn't look him in the eye as I begged.
He leaned down to my limp body lying in a pool of my own blood
"Don't call me that, I'm no father of yours" he spat the words out of his mouth like it was dirt.
He grabbed me by the wrist and I struggled to break free in my painstaking condition, across the kitchen floor which I had just finished tidying before he came home drunk. But of course, now there was glass all over the floor, drops of my blood here and there, my dad's alcohol bottle lay shattered with blood dripping from the corners. He used them to make slits in my shoulders. I guess it's just another scar to add to my collection. Another reason I'm not loved. Another reason I'm useless, worthless, a waste of space. Another reason I'm a punching bag.
Why else would I get beaten every day?
It's because of my dad that I flinch whenever a man is near me or why I flinch at every movement someone makes. It makes me weak and pathetic. I know that. I've just learnt to live with it, not get over it.
When he finally got to the cellar he pushed me down the stairs and I came into contact with the hard, cold ground, but I kept quiet not wanting to show him how much pain he's caused me. I'm already weak enough as it.
He slammed the old door shut before I heard him fiddling with the keys on the other side before locking it, leaving me to tend to my own wounds. It didn't make a difference that it was pitch black in here, after 2 years of this being my so-called bedroom I could make my way around it like an owl. I let out a tired sigh before dragging my self towards the corner where my old, thin mattress lied. I grabbed an old cloth and began to treat the wounds I could reach. Once I was done I applied some ointment cream I had stolen from the bathroom. Then I laid down, careful not to be too harsh on my wounds before dozing off into my past. A time when I was happy, sarcastic AF and carefree.
2 years ago
I ran down the stairs with Adrian jumping down 4 of the stairs after me. He was furious which makes sense seeing as I stole all his pillows but it's only cuz I need more. I mean who sleeps with 2 pillows? I need at least 4 to get a some sort of sleep. Next thing I know he's jumped on top of me and we're both rolling on the floor.
At this point I'm struggling to breathe with his hand on my neck and my stomach to the ground.
I begin to wheeze which makes him stop straight away.
"Hey, hey" he starts soothing me and telling me to breathe while helping me up. Bipolar much.
Meanwhile, I'm just staring at him tryna play along and not laugh my head of but when I can't take it any more I burst out laughing and let me just say if looks could kill I would be 10 and a half feet under.
"You...you..." I struggle to speak between my laughs and I begin to feel a stitch in my stomach.
Once I've calmed down I look up at him
"You actually believed me" and I burst out laughing again at his glare which doesn't do anything to scare me.
"What's happening here?"
We both whip our heads around.
"Dad" I dramatically run up to him and explain to him how my brother had strangled me to the brink of death.
"What? no, that's not true. What the hell idiot"
"Don't call your sister such words and for your unacceptable behavior your grounded... For 2 weeks"
His jaw drops so low
"I didn't DO anything though."
"Well I know for a fact my daughter never lies and because you talked back your grounded for 3 weeks"
My dad looked at me with loving eyes and I innocently smiled back as he said that
Adrians begging look has been replaced with a glare.
I smile innocently up at him who's jaw just dropped so low it looks like it's gonna hit the ground any time now.... Aaaaaannn...ddd.
It just hit the floor.
"One day that jaw is gonna fall of"
He instantly closed his mouth and resumed to glaring at me while I skipped back up the stairs: enjoying life .
Alec Fontana POV.
I sat in my office surrounded by a pile of paperwork. Not that i give a shit about it. I'm more of the practical kind. I prefer using guns not ordering them out. I prefer doing the killing rather than hiding the body. I prefer being the villain rather than the victim. I am the villain. You get the gist.
Of course, I still do it after all the boss can't just choose what he wants to do and not want to do, besides I've worked way too hard to be able to say I 'can't be bothered' now.
A knock on the door broke me out of deep thought. I cleared my throat before telling them to come it. He came in and stood for a good minute as I sat with raised eyebrows.
"S... Sir..." So He has a voice. And I was getting impatient. He may be my most trusted mafia member but when it comes to business there's no playing around. No beating around the bush.
Just as I was about to get up and raise my voice he hurriedly admitted.
"They didn't get the money sir"
"Details? I don't have all day and for your kind information theres more than 1 person who owes us money at this minute."
"Um... M..Mr Blair scarlet didn't have the money sir" he explained, failing to sound confident.
I growled at the top of my voice his eyes widen in a fright, as I rose from my seat.
"2 God damn years I delayed that 30 grand and he has the audacity to do this"
I paused and raised my head, looking straight ahead.
"Guess who your having dinner with tonight" With an evil smirk on my face.