Harmoney's hope (Leila's light)

Faceless shadow

AN:/ This is the first chapter of the reproduction of Leila's light, truly the only thing that is similar between the two is a few characters did not change, as well as quite a few scenes. I hope everyone enjoys this story even more than people did for Leila's light!

Something was dripping down my face, whether it was sweat or blood I wouldn't know. I was aware of my surroundings, as almost always. It was pitch black, besides the faint glow up the stairs, underneath the door. I have had to memorize every space of my cage, the place that has been my home for the last 7 years. And in those years I have spent most of it looking for wholes, gaps, something to free me.

I was their pet, their toy. They owned me, controlled me. Even more so than any other woman in the mafia. But more unluckily I was born a strong woman, and for that they always hated me. I knew that at any moment they would finally kill me. I prayed for the day they did.

My father was a predator, I was prey. It seemed that abusing me would get him off way more than my mother ever could. It entertained him, he loved having power over me. He had been spending more time down here with me ever since my brother became of age. It was alright though because I deserved it, that's what he told me.

I am fed on a routine, one day every other week. Father says it will keep me slim for when I am to marry. As if I will not die before then. The so-called 'slim' he wants is for me to have all my bones showing. I haven't seen myself in 4 years.

I can hear him getting closer and closer to the door. I let my shutter out now. Remembering the few times i showed signs of true fear when he was down here. The grin grew on his face, as he yanked and dragged me by the hair for 'acting childish' and 'acting like an animal' because "Only a wild animal would be afraid of their own parent." He sat down and watched me struggle, watching his eyes glitter, after a few seconds a dark spot appeared around his crouch. 

I hear the squeak of the door open and the bang as it closed. Then the tapping of his dark oxford leather shoes as they walk down the stone stair. As well as the clinking of the ice in his bourbon. He turns the lights on, those blinding dismay bringing lights. He sets his bourbon down onto the chest which holds the 'toys'

"Harmoney" He whispers dragging the ey in his thick Russian accent. He walks over to where i' curled up against the wall, and grabs my face out of my knees. "You're such a pretty pretty girl, such a beautiful body. Too bad it's wasted on such a brat." He tosses my head causing it to bump into the wall next to me. Calm down, calm down, he just wants to get a rise out of you i repeat telling myself as he turns away for a moment. Before i can even register anything he grabs me by the ankles and starts dragging me across the room.

Is there really a point in fighting? There was only one time when I escaped, and I only made it to the living room then. I still try to convince myself that the consequences were worth it.

I started fighting, wriggling to get free. My father then shoves me against the wall then comes close enough that I can smell the bourbon in his breath, "stop fighting you little whore. No man wants a wife that can't get beat up a little." The diamond on his tooth shines in the light as he speaks.

I stop fighting after that. Not because i want to, i really want to. But this is one of those times that the consequences are much greater than the small action achieved. My father then pats me on the head like a fucking dog whispering, "good girl, such a good little girl." I want to throw up. This isn't how girls are supposed to be treated. Right? Especially by their fathers?

Then grabbing ahold of my arms he backs me into the wooden chair in the middle of the room and ties me to it. He smiles his toothless grin that always makes me sick to my stomach. I start to say the prayer I always say before each beating as he turns away. In a flash, he turns and punches me across the face. The impacts have started to dull over the years. I've become more numb and my father has become weaker. "That's it? Father i think you've lost your touch," i say amusingly. A momentary flicker of anger appears on his face before calming himself down.

"Well I'm just getting you started, we have your brothers coming to help me tonight." He smiles at that. As if they just won an award. He yells in Russian"Мальчики достают свои здесь!" a language I was never allowed to learn because I could risk our business as a woman. [Boys get your asses down here!]

I hear a herd of feet come down the stairs as my three brothers are then before me. He yells again in Russian "Мальчики – это то, как вы относитесь к женщине. Никакой пощады.." which must be saying something along the lines of watch this. [Boys this is how you truly treat a woman. No mercy.]

I can see the fear and hesitation across their faces. I see Kai my eldest brother, he looks relatively the same although it has been 7 years. He still has his gray-black always messy hair. With dark brown eyes similar to mine, but a lot taller than I remember.

Then there is Arlo, who is growing up so fast. The last time I saw him he was 7 but now he is a teenager. He doesn't look like the sweet little kid I used to know hardened us all, even him. He got my mother's blonde hair like I did. But instead of his being curly like mine it's buzzed.

Finally, baby Rowan is no longer a baby. He was only a few months only the last time I saw him. But now I see it more so than ever. My father always hated him because he has dark skin, calling him a product of my mother's affair. Although my mother never did and it was my father who had an affair.

I only get a prolonged glance before my father hits me. Then again, again. The trickle of blood down my face and onto my body is the only reminder that i am still alive. After a moment bucket of ice-cold water is dropped on me by Arlo to wake me up. Just encase he knocked me out or i was too close to death. I mean you can't have your personal punching bag die on you!

Father was extra angry today. I should've noticed when he clearly ha three fingers of bourbon instead of two. The worst part of it is that I'm the one who has to suffer because he's having a bad day.

While I wouldn't call this luck, I get more lucky than normal. He orders for my brothers to tie me up, only by my arms though, leaving my feet dangling. Which really hurts after a little bit.

I think I may have passed out a few minutes in because I woke up to be taken down and my father's voice."Ладно, оставьте ее." My father says and everyone unties me and leaves. Back in the dark. [Okay leave her be.]

Why was my father in such a bad mood but they went easy on me? Why did this only take about an hour? Why? It must be early still, I can hear the weeping of my mother. As I do almost every night my father comes down. I can hear her quiet prayers outside of my door, when she starts to say one I don't recognize, I slowly crawl over ever. My body is screaming at me to stop, that I will die if I continue.

But I must know, her prayers give me updates on what is going on outside. "And may her future husband treat her better than this place..." I start to count the days by the marks I made on the stone wall every day. No. No, no. I start my body starts to shake uncontrollably. I am not ready. Not yet.