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10 Years Ago
I can hear my Padre coming down the hallway. He is pissed, pissed because he told me to keep the men alive, and I didn’t. I cut out their tongues and put an ice pick through their hearts. They disrespected our family name, and they didn’t deserve to live.
I can tell from how he is walking that I am in trouble, but what sounds like three other sets of footsteps tells me I am in even bigger trouble than I thought. He can’t call me a Mostro and then get pissed when I act like one.
I take a deep breath as my Padre storms into his study. I stay seated, resting my hands on the armrest. I know what he is going to do. He threatened to do it the last time I killed someone, and he told me not to, so my pants were already down to my ankles. I hold tightly onto the armrests as my Padre stops in front of me with a knife in hand. His three men hold me in the chair as my Padre kneels in front of me. He doesn’t look at me as he leans in and starts to carve into my skin.
I lift my head and look at the ceiling. My heart is racing as the pain starts to course through me. I let out a scream as the men tightened their grips on me, I knew it was coming, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking hurt like a bitch.
I can’t tell you how long it took, but the carving is deep. I can tell you that much.
My Padre stops cutting and slowly stands up. He looks down at me, his eyes locking with mine. “You want to act like a Mostro; now you are a mostro,” he states in a low, dark tone.
The men release me as my Padre drops the knife and walks around me, heading back out of the room. I look down at my inner thigh. The chair and my leg are covered in blood. I guess it is true then; I am a mostro.
I clear my throat as I look down at Nicole. She is standing still in front of me. I kneel and lift each foot, pulling up the cotton shorts. I force myself to stand and raise her arms so I can put a tank top over her head and arms, pulling it down her Bellissima body.
I grab my sweatshirt and quickly pull it down her arms and body. My dick twitches in my sweats as I look her over. Her wearing my clothes is something I can already tell you I fucking love. I lower her arms and grab onto her hand. She keeps her eyes forward as I lead us both out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the living room connected to the kitchen. I lead her to the couch and help her take a seat. For the last two hours, she has been like a zombie. She hasn’t come back to me, but I am not giving up.
“I’m going to make us something to eat, bambina, and we can watch a movie, okay?” I ask, looking down at her. I kneel in front of her, but her eyes don’t follow me; she just sits on the couch and stares forward. I take a deep breath as I stand and turn around, making my way around the couch to the kitchen. I have no idea what she likes to eat, but everyone likes homemade pizza, right?
30 Minutes Later
She hasn’t moved since I went into the kitchen. I go around the couch, sit beside her, and place the plate on her lap. She doesn’t move. She just continues to stare forward as I wrap my arm around her. I grab the remote. I also don’t know what she likes to watch, but right now, I don’t think she cares, and I don’t think it matters. The only thing that matters is her.
I sit back on the couch as I pick a random movie. I watch Nicole start eating the pizza, which makes me smile, but she hasn’t looked at me yet, which annoys me and makes me nervous. In the shower, I saw shame and guilt in her eyes, confusing me and pissing me off for whatever those fucking disgusting men made her believe about herself. I can only try to understand what she is going through right now. I am trying to be more than what I am, I am trying to be more than just some fucking Mostro, but her refusing to even say a fucking word to me has me seeing a different kind of red.
It is causing my heart to race and my vision to become blurred. This is not the same girl who spilled coffee on my shirt, but she is in there. I saw her, even if it was for a fucking second. She is in there. I want to mark her so fucking badly. I want to take her body, soul, heart, and mind and intertwine them with mine. I want her on every single fucking level a human being can have another person. Still, I know, I fucking know she isn’t ready. I need to give it time. I can give it some time.
She leans in and rests her head on my shoulder, causing my heart to skip a beat as I start to watch whatever movie I picked. Honestly, I don’t know what it is. I haven’t been paying attention either, fuck the movie. She has my full attention. She has since the moment my eyes landed on her, and in all these years, that hasn’t fucking changed. She will continue to have my attention for the rest of our lives. I let us both walk away from each other once before, and I will never fucking let that happen again.
19
Nicole
Week Two - Silence
“What you see and I see are two completely different things.”
Things are so fucking loud inside my head. I just want them to go away. Christian has been patient, or at least he has been trying. I have been watching him watch me. Even though the words want to come out of my mouth, I keep them inside. He doesn’t need to know the madness inside me right now. So much fucking madness, the cuts, the bruises, all of it reminding me that only a few weeks ago, I was chained to that damn bed, being used and abused.
Maybe that is all I am good for. Even now that Christian has saved me, I feel like I am in a prison inside my head, and there is no escaping it. They are everywhere. I feel their touch, their breath on my skin. Everything is a reminder that I am fucking freak, that I don’t fucking belong.
I feel like a misplaced doll. A doll that doesn’t belong, a doll that will get looked at and judged because of something that I had no control over. My father gave me away. He gave me to those men, and now I am this, whatever the fuck this is.
Christian wants to help. The way he talks, the way he looks at me, the way he gently touches my skin, all of it fucking pains me because I am not who he thinks I am. He looks at me as if he loves me, but I know what love can make someone do.
Sebastian said he loved me and look at what happened. My father said he loved me, and he fucking gave me away. Christian says he loves me, and I am just waiting, just fucking waiting to see what happens next.
What do those words fucking mean to him?
Shutting my eyes doesn’t help. Taking baths and showers doesn’t fucking help. Nothing is going to make them leave me alone. For now, they are a part of me, I think. A reminder that I am awhore, that I amdirty. A fuckingslut. Everything that has happened to me has tainted me. I am fucking tainted.
My body betrayed me when I was in that house. They got reactions out of me that I tried to stop, but I couldn’t. I tried to tell myself that it was just a normal response, but maybe something is wrong with me.
Maybe all those men were right, maybe Sebastian was right, maybe my body and brain were starting to get used to what they were all doing to me, maybe at the end, my body craved it because they conditioned me to fucking want it, want them.
What the fuck am I saying right now?
