Their doll 2

48- Painkiller

The next morning, I made a promise to her and to myself to be there when she wake up. I didn't sleep. All night, I stayed awake watching her. I couldn't close my eyes without hearing her voice. Her cry. Her sobs. Or neither could I stop thinking of them.

Who're they? And what have they done to her? Poor girl. She was terrified. Shaken to her core. She was mumbling words in her sleep. Wake up several times in the middle of the night. She told me she had a nightmare. I held her hand and attempted put her back to sleep. An hour or two later, she jerked awake again. Another nightmare.

I tried not to guess the answer myself. Because of my own experience, I grew up, surrounded by violence. A horrific, life-threatening events. My whole family was in the mafia. So it's in my nature that my guts tends to encourage the most negative thoughts possible.

Is the they she was referring to, by any chance, could be her parents? Maybe, they were abusive. But how abusive they had to be for the aftermath to be so severe. She suffered post-traumatic stress, I've heard. But was I prepare for her breakdown to happen so soon? No. I was literally paralyzed too.

A handful of time I had been through this. People tended to break down a lot in my presence. They feared me. They feared what I could do to them. To their family. To their children.

But to compare me to the other bosses in this business, I considered myself the most reasonable. The softest. I gave people chance. Hoping they would learn from their mistakes and most of them did. Some were stupid enough to repeat the same mistake. In such a case, I had no other choice.

I still remembered the first time I was informed of the trouble Astrid— or Aurora had caused, I was frustrated. Not at her. But at the men. On the fourth day of her first week at work, the poor girl was violated. Thankfully, the damage wasn't physical. But an emotional invasion was also unacceptable. A snarky comment those low lives made, assuming it would attract her attention. Well, it was damfool. The same night I went ahead and removed those pea-brained boys off the club's list. They were no longer welcomed at the Château. Even though you are intoxicated, here, you'll behave with class and respect toward my employees regardless of their rank.

But then came another trouble. One after another. Eventually, I begin to doubt. Was it them? Or it's all her doing? Had she been rude to my customers? Had she been slacking off?

Last night, I was finally rewarded with an answer for my kindness and patience.

"Hey."

As soon as Astrid opened her eyes, I helped her sit up and encouraged her to take a pill. A painkiller. Her head must be throbbing and she needed it to function properly while answering all my questions. I kept them to myself. Dreading this moment since last night.

"How're you feeling?" I asked. I was sitting on the armchair which I had moved closer to the couch so I could watch her sleep comfortably.

She looked down at her lap, playing with the fabric of my cotton shirt with her fingers.

I know she remember. But explained myself anyways.

"You changed yourself into that." I said and she didn't look up but nodded.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Alonso." She exhaled, "I didn't mean to—"

"Stop apologizing." I said, a bit annoyed. I was more concerned than mad.

I watched her eyes when carefully they started to scan the floor beneath her feet. She was looking for her sneakers. Then, she located them.

"I should get-"

"You're not going anywhere." I grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her back. She slumped down on the couch, looking terrified for some reason.

Words were at the tip of my tongue, threatening to come out. But I didn't want to invade her privacy. I didn't know if I should.