He took everything from me. My family, my life and my freedom.
But it wasn't enough for him.
Roman Cross is a monster. A cold, calculated and ruthless mafia king who trapped me in his castle as his bride.
Now Roman wants my heart but I can't affor...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~*~
Winter
Roman 33, Winter 18
Foul. The smell of decomposing corpses. That's what it smells like. Foul. I don't have any other words to describe it. It's not something any human can comprehend. It fills up the whole room, the smell; musty, earthy like rotting soil. It's lives in my nostrils, imprinted in my senses.
I can never forget it.
The smell embracing me as I laid among my family's decaying corpses.
He left me with them for a whole week. With the foul smell mixed in with urine and days old vomit. No food or water. Just me and them.
He didn't want me dead, he made it very clear when he fired several rolls into my family. Leaving only me alive. Blood, bones and brain matter splattering into the crevices of our prison. Crimson red stains my blonde hair and burns my pale skin. My clothes are soaked, bits of bone and matter clinging to the material.
Screaming is all I hear. Ear piercing, terrified and heart breaking. It was the sound of girl who just lost everything; whose world just turned upside down and who witnessed the execution of her entire family.
Gasping for air, I wake with wide eyes, with sweat covering every inch of my body and the sound of my erratic heart beats. I'm no longer in the basement with the dead bodies nor am I deprived from light and the basic necessities to survive. Roman had me move from his basement to the, what I believe, is a room in the attic, about two months ago.
The room is bigger than the one I was previously confined in. There's a high ceiling with a square skylight beaming down at me, an en-suite bathroom, a desk and a vanity. The bed is magnificent; bouncy and soft like sleeping on a cloud. It's the first time I've slept on authentic Egyptian cotton. It's so comfortable that shame fills me for enjoying it.
I sleep in almost everyday because it didn't matter how long I took to get ready. I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. Forever caged in room with only my mind as my friend. Slowly going mad.
When my family was bought into Roman's basement, it wasn't explicitly explained in why we were there or what we did to piss him off. Not until they were all gone. I think I was so frightened that I block the memories; the conversations between him and my father turning into white noise.
I do remember Roman's ultimatum to my father, however, when it was just him, my mother, my youngest brother Ryan and I dangling from the ceiling. Gregory, my eldest brother was already dead. Beaten to death for speaking out of turn.
