563 25 0


I don't know how long I've been here. I think it's been a week. Maybe two, three? I don't know.

They've gone from giving me a meal a day, to giving me one every other.

When I hear my door open, that means either two things. I'm getting a meal, or I'm getting a visit from Vince and his men.

They hit me, kick me, beat me, but that's all.

They tell me the horrid things my father has done to them. Remind me of how many people he's pissed off.

One of my father's bombs went off, killing Vince's wife and son. My heart aches for him. No one should know the feeling of losing family. But that's a feeling a lot of the men here have. All because of my father.

So every time he come in, I take the punches and kicks. Because if my pain can takes theirs away, I'll gladly do it.

Because how am I better than he is? The answer is, I'm not. At least he doesn't hide who he is. At least he doesn't lie and manipulate the people who care about him. At least he doesn't lie to himself.

There's footsteps by the door. I'm too tired to turn towards it. Or maybe away. I'm too tired to open my eyes and see what way I'm facing. Too tired to see who had open the door and rushed in. Too tired to look to see whose crouched down beside me.

Whenever they visit, I try to think of something to distract myself. Last time, I thought about Will. I thought of the life we could of had if I was good. I like to think I would had fell in love with him. Gotten married, had kids. We gave them a life better than our own. It was nice, it wasn't true.

"Arden?" A sweet voice fills the empty room. A hand touches my cheek, my body leans into the warmth.
Cold. I didn't realize how cold I was until the warmth touch leaves my face. "Arden." I voice grows louder, panicked. "I found you." The voice sounded sad. "I found her." The voice yells. "Open your eyes for me Arden." I couldn't.

Im awake, I wanted to say. I hear you. I hear him, Will. My ears must be playing tricks on me. Because why would he be here?

As it reading my mind, he answers. "I found you." He said again, holding me in his arms. I realize he's saying this more to himself then me. "I'm going to take you home." Home, I wanted to laugh. And if it weren't for the throbbing in my head, I might of. More footsteps rush in. More voices, more demands, I'm too dizzy to understand what they're saying, who they even are.

   I'm unsure this is even real, maybe this is their new form of punishment. All I'm sure of is that I'm tired, and if my eye lids could get heavier, they did.

There's No GoodWhere stories live. Discover now