𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚'𝐬 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫 [𝟏𝟖+] - ✐

Prologue

The Winter's Wrath

I HAVE BEEN IN THIS CELL for 2 or 3 years, fed off of disgusting, salty, green goo. Well, most of the time. Not so often the leftovers from their dinner would come to me and the rest of the ladies here.

I don't know what day it is, the time or season. All I can carry off of is the yellow light that seeps through the small hole in my cell telling me whether daylight has risen, is falling, or if it has disappeared for a few hours.

The only thing I remember was the bag taken off my head, being stripped, put into oversized clothes to then be thrown into a small cinderblock room where I now spend my days.

I've made peace with it, I knew what I got myself into risking my safety for others. It's one of the things I regret but am glad I did.

"Get up" One of the guards of this god-ridden hell spoke, I stayed suspended in place.

"I said, get up whore" He yanks me up by my ice-colored hair, and puts us face to face. He was beautiful. Such a shame he had a wasteful personality. I finally stood up and he let go of my hair. But that wasn't the end, he grabbed my arm and dragged me into the dusty halls.

My stench turned the faces of nearby people in my direction. The cold stung my arms, the only thing I had on was a ripped shirt and some oversized men's cargo pants. It felt nice to be out of the cell. I knew it wasn't to last long though- the freedom.

We arrived at another room that appeared a lot like a bathroom. He threw me inside the shower chamber and turned on the water not caring what temperature it was. The cold water flowed through my figure turning the once clear water, brown.

The guard grimaced and rubbed his nose trying to rid of the stench from his presence, I closed my eyes and remained shivering under the water. Once he was satisfied with the amount of dirt off of me he threw me a towel, in my years here this towel has to be the softest thing I've felt. I instantly put the warm towel on my face and rubbed it hoping to seek its warmth all over.

He stood there with his gun strapped to his chest watching me intensely as if I posed a threat. He grabbed my arm once again and continued to drag me, he let out a frustrated grunt when I fell.

He was going too fast and I hadn't walked this much in so long.

He threw me over his shoulder and I went limp, my wet permanently dyed platinum hair bounced with every step he took up the stairs.

We entered a room and I lifted my hand to my face.

It's too bright

"We have another for you Casilda" He dropped me on a chair and a mirror was in front of it with light bulbs surrounding it. I looked into my reflection and passed a hand over my face, dirt still outlined my face despite the shower I had. The white shirt was soaked along with the cargo pants. The shoelace I had used to tighten it loose so now it was barely hanging onto my waist.