VOID OF HOPE: UNYIELDING PAIN.

Hey, just a heads up: if you're not comfortable with or unable to handle intense and graphic depictions of pain, you might want to consider skipping this chapter. Take care of yourself!

JOYCE MOLLY’S POV.

I slowly opened the door, my hand trembling, and there stood Scott, unexpectedly.

"What the hell do you want, Scott?" I managed to say, trying to keep my voice calm. He smirked and replied,

"Barbie, I'm not the one who wants something... It's payback time, you know?" Payback? What was he talking about?

"Who would be dumb enough to take something from you, Scott? Not me, not Amelia. You're in the wrong place," I retorted. He chuckled, but this time, there was a hint of anger in his face.

"Come on, you whore. You should know I like getting back what's mine in kind. You don't owe me," he said, smirking in a way that made me nervous.

"Yeah, I don't owe you anything, and neither does Amelia. So just leave!" I tried to shut the door, but he blocked it with his foot. I looked up at him, and his expression had turned terrifying.

"Unless you want me to force you, which I wouldn't mind doing. You and her will come with me to Styles," he threatened. No, this couldn't be happening. We had just been discharged today.

"W-why would Styles want us?" I asked, trying not to show fear. I probably sounded like a scared puppy. He mocked me, saying, "D-don't you owe him, Barbie?" with that same smirk on his face. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Tell Styles that Amelia just got discharged, and we'll come later. Give us a minute," I said, my voice trembling with fear.

"A minute? We don't have the luxury of that. It's either by will or force. I'd prefer force '' he said. Scott smiled and spoke again, emphasizing our importance to them. I cringed at his words, my fear intensifying. I turned to Amelia, my voice filled with concern.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my own fear evident. Amelia hesitated, her response laced with unease.

"Yes, let's go so he doesn't have to wait," she replied, avoiding eye contact. I could sense her fear, and it only added to my own.

AMELIA ADAMS POV

I can't remember walking to Styles' apartment or even being here. All I recall is Scott pulling us out of the room. It feels like we've been here for a few minutes, I think. Am I scared? Oh, absolutely. Why? Because I have no clue what's going through Styles' mind or how he might decide to punish Molly and me… it’s unsettling.

*****

We've been waiting here for over an hour, just standing around, waiting for Mr. Harry to show up. "Amelia?" Molly called, her gaze fixed on me.

"Yeah, Molly?" I replied, unsure of what she was going to say next.

"Just be honest with me, are you really okay?" she said, staring into my eyes. I hesitated for a moment, biting my lip.

"Honestly?" I asked, feeling a sense of relief knowing she cares so much about me.

"Don't lie to me," she whispered, scolding me softly. I smiled, feeling a weight lifting off my chest.

"No, I'm not okay. I'm really scared, Molly," I admitted, looking down at my toes.

"I don't want to burden you, but..." I started to say. "Shh. We're in this together, okay?" she interrupted, reaching out to hold my hand.

"Okay," I replied, feeling a sense of comfort knowing we have each other.

******

So, Styles' personal maid brought us to a room and now we're waiting for Styles to join us.

Few minutes after she had left, styles came in. He sat down and stared at me before moving his eyes to Molly. He kept a straight face. He watched us for sometime before he spoke.

“You got discharged today?” He stared at me with an unchanging face

“Y-yes” I said with a lowered head.

“How are you enjoying your new role as a bartender? You were treated respectfully?” He asked Molly

“I was”

“Good. Amelia love, I was told you took breathing lessons. Yes?”

“Yes'' I said with a shaky voice.

“Good. I’d love to know how serious you took it? How long can you stay while trying to fight for breath”

I wasn’t sure if to respond or not..but then, out of nowhere, four menacing gang members creeped in, dragging something ominously covered into the living room. My heart skipped a beat as I witnessed Harry rise from his seat, his eyes locked on the mysterious trolley positioned eerily in front of me.

“Scot hold Molly down”
I couldn't believe my eyes as Scot forcefully restrained Molly, a look of twisted satisfaction on his face. The tension in the room escalated as he unveiled the white cloth covering the trolley.

“No, please don’t hurt her!” Molly shouted while she struggled. Harry was quiet not saying a thing only when he instructed his gang members to hold me with both hands and chained my leg.

I couldn't make out everything, but one thing caught my attention—a peculiar, unfamiliar hot plate. Molly's desperate cries filled the air as she fought against her restraints, pleading for mercy.

“ I really hope you took your lessons seriously because I’d hate to waste my time and of course the time you wasted in my hospital”My eyes welled up with tears, one after another. I couldn't bear to watch as Harry grabbed a pair of scissors and ripped my shirt and bra apart. He fixated his gaze on my chest for a moment, then turned to me and asked,

“ Where should I even begin?" I sobbed uncontrollably, feeling completely overwhelmed. Will I make it out of this alive? Is he planning to harm me? My heart raced with fear.

In a chilling motion, he gripped the spoon-like object from the hot plate, adorned with unsettling designs. Without any warning, he pressed it against my skin, causing excruciating pain.

Fear and pain consumed me as the torment dragged on endlessly. My cries echoed in a haunting symphony, intertwining with Molly's. It felt as though a thousand needles were mercilessly piercing through my body all at once. Gasping for air, I fought to breathe through the overwhelming anguish.

3RD PERSON'S POV

The pain shot up her stomach like fire. She cringed. It exploded in her head with a blinding whiteness. It made her dizzy. The pain was like hot needles that had been dipped in alcohol had been jammed through her skin, like her stomach had been replaced with ice and electricity wired straight into her spine.
Her chest was so tight. Breathing became a fight . She struggled for breath as it became a hard thing to do. Not only is Harry burning her skin he was also punishing Joyce by making her watch someone she cares so much for in pain and knowing she can’t do anything.

Amelia’s adrenaline was burning off, leaving her in a symphony of pain, one part of her body screaming, the other parts answering with agony of their own, her windpipe felt like it was closing up on her. Every other person in the room felt inexistent as the only thing she could concentrate on was the pain shooting on her stomach.
And when it felt like the pain had faded it only returned worse. Harry pulled out the metal when it had faded its hotness and had replaced it with a hotter one.
Amelia prayed for death, but when has death ever answered when needed? Joyce wished it was her instead of Amelia.

Amelia wished she had died on the night she was conceived and her mother had survived it that way her family won’t be broken. It went on for hours.
And, just when the pain was at its worst, it dissipated, like fog off some terrible lake. She let herself fall asleep. The darkness that had made her his friend.

HARRY STYLES POV

Thankfully, my money wasn't completely wasted. The girl showed resilience, enduring the pain until she eventually passed out. The mark I left on her won't last forever, it'll fade away in a month or two. After finishing with Amelia, I shifted my attention to Molly.

"Get her over here, tie her up." My men followed my instructions. Once they finished restraining her, I grinned at Molly.

“It’s your turn Barbie.”

"Please, Harry, I'm begging you, please don't." She pleaded, and I couldn't help but smile at her.

"Barbie, where do you want it? On your hand, back, or stomach?" I asked, placing the spon-like branding iron on the hot plate.

I waited, but no reply came. All I could hear was the sound of her crying. I lifted the iron and brought it close to her face, asking,

"Do you want me to choose, Barbie?" I said lifting the branding iron to her face,

"No no. Please not my face," she pleaded. But I had no intention of burning her face. She's too pretty. We need her to look good for the party.

"Where then, whore?" I growled, my patience wearing thin.

"On... on my hand," she stammered. With a seething hatred, I sneered,

"Took your precious time, didn't you?" I commanded my men to flip her around.

Molly is a real pain to handle. I'd love to break her, but I have other matters to attend to. Grabbing a pair of scissors, I sliced through her crop top. That whore always loves to flaunt her skin.

"Please, not my back, Harry. P-please," she pleaded desperately.

"Once upon a time, Molly had a flawless back, until Harry came along," I taunted as I pressed the heated iron onto her back. As expected, she screamed and cried in agony.

____________

Molly didn't faint like her weak friend. I left the doctor to take care of both her and Amelia.

"Should I book flight tickets to Luxembourg, or is that already done?"

Mack, my second in command, asked.

"Go ahead and book the flight tickets," I replied, watching as he walked away. I can't be mad at Mack, after all, he led me to the best gifts for Declan Lucchese.

We're heading to Luxembourg today with Declan's gifts.

Amelia, I hope he digs that one.

She's got the exact birth details as him. Same time, same date, same day but different years. If he accepts the gifts, that's a win.

Maybe our gang will catch his eye, who knows, we might earn the mafia's favor.