Ruellia Laurent, daughter to the cruelest mafia leader was kidnapped by her own father at a young age, leaving behind her mother and 5 brothers. Growing up all she knew was darkness, death and destruction; her father devoted his life to capturing hi...
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2 a.m, a time most people would be peacefully asleep.
Yet, here I was, laying in Flynn's dimly lit room, his cologne filling the air, sheets, even the pillow I was lent on. With every breath I inhaled his scent, giving me a sense of comfort, reminding me of the tangled web of secrets I've harboured.
In the last 4 days, I've been comforted, understood and seen by four guys I had just recently met— more seen and understood than I've ever felt in my entire life.
Four days, and I still haven't grieved.
It has to be partly shock— the trauma of being raped again to later finding out he ruined my chance of children.
The boys suggested I stay that night, and I agreed, happy to avoid going home where I would've cried myself to sleep.
That night, Flynn stayed up, scratching my back till I fell asleep.
The small gesture meant more than words could describe. His presence beside me throughout the night prevented my nightmares, allowing me to sleep like a baby.
For the past 3 days, Flynn or Jasper has picked me up from my house and taken me back to their place. We'd have dinner with the boys, I'd binge-watch Vampire Diaries with Lucien and eventually, I'd go to sleep with Flynn by my side.
To avoid raising suspicion with my brothers and Mum, I lied and told them I was staying with Amber while her parents were out of town for the week.
Which is another reason I was up so late, stuck in my thoughts. They don't know, they smile at me, unaware of the darkness that lurks beneath the surface.
Innocence looks good in the light, but I know better. I was raised by a man who wore the weight of choices I could never begin to fathom. My father, the most feared ex-mafia leader, the man who made my life hell, a man who taught me lessons that no child should learn.
He cloaked my life with pain, feeding me power and survival through torture, like the world outside was a battleground. He believed the only way I'd learned how to fight, how to manipulate, how to end lives, was to make me want to end mine.
It wasn't just about fear; it was about control.
Yet, every time I watched the life leave someone's eyes, a part of me felt pulled into the darkness, tugging at what my father truly desired. A killing machine.
I wanted to be innocent, like those girls on screen, giggling, dreaming. But the truth clung to me, like the scent of gunpowder that never truly leaves.
I made a choice when I found out I had family, to abandon my past for a semblance of normalcy. Brothers, friends, school— the mundane things.
But the past is a relentless spectre, and that encounter four days ago shattered my facade. The way he looked at me—holding me down like I was prey, his only vengeance being a comeback I made towards his sexist remarks.
