Classic Novel
Chapter 19 (Beggar)
Chapter 19 (Beggar)
The slap across my face isn't a hard one, but with the bruises around my jaw from the beating I took
last night after I killed another one of Lucca's men, it stings like a bitch.
“You should see how she screamed. Beggar, Beggar,” he laughs as he mimics Kylie's voice.
Every day he shows me a small video, forcing me to watch what his men do to Kylie.
It is fucking sick. I have experienced her torture for hours. For her, it has been weeks.
I lost the number of days that have gone by. My mind closes in, my body weakens from lack of food,
water, and the amount of pain I am in. But I welcome it, knowing that hers is so much more severe. I
should be there and she should be here.
For Lucca that is too easy for me.
“Rape,” he said last week, “is something that once it happens the first time, the other times just don't
hold a candle.”
He doesn't know how wrong he is. All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.
It only hurts more.
Every time a bit of your soul chips away until you got nothing left.
I know she screams for me.
When she is sleeping, she cries, begging me to kill her.
She wants to die.
Kylie is at another warehouse in Washington.
Lucca thought it was funny that his men rape and torture her in Vincent's territory.
I think it is stupid. Vincent is a dark soul, he was born with madness that made an insane person sane.
I have seen it with my own eyes.
Lucca doesn't know Vincent as I do. He hasn't seen Vincent as I have.
A haunted man, with a cursed soul, is much worse than a man with a dead one.
Six Years Ago
I never believed in goodness, I stopped believing in people's bullshit because I knew better, I learned
all my lessons in the worse possible way.
Yet, why did I trust him?
Why did I think he was different.
He is different, yeah really fucked up different, that is for sure.
So different I'm in this ditch with a dislocated shoulder or maybe it's broken.
My ribs on my left side under my naked bruised breast presses underneath the tissue of my skin.
I am having trouble breathing. but I am too weak to care, too frail to do anything right now.
I can't cry, I have no scream left in my vocal cords.
My voice is fucked.
It's gone.
Nightmares haunt me, even in the day, it's like I am now living in hell.
Why don't I just die, it will be the same thing.
Yeah, if it weren't for the baby in my stomach I would just die. I don't have an option of that.
I hear a sound, like a van, maybe they're back, maybe he is back to finish me up.
They don't know I'm pregnant, he doesn't know I have his spawn growing inside me, and he will never
find out.
I see them before I hear them that is how weak I am- A white older man, with glasses and a fat ass
woman. My hands instinctively cover my breast, my eyes hard as I stare at these unknown people.
"Andrew that's a lady in there, let's help her out, get the van and some rope, call Junior," I hear the
words of her squeaky whiny voice.
"This is Sanati's place mom, they like bad people, if she is in there, they put her there," A younger man
is saying.
Which is the truth, but I don't say anything, even if I wanted to, I don't think my voice would allow it.
I drift in and out after that, no sure what's happening or how much time passes.
I just know when I am wakened I am in a movable house, car thing.
The smell of food assaults my senses and my stomach involuntarily retches.
My throat squeezes itself and I want to cry, it's so fucking sore.
My chest is burning and I have my final rest I will get in a long time.
I jolt up from my sleep, my mind still very much on my life, of how things turned out.
My whole life I had to be strong, I had to fend for myself from the age of twelve.
I remember the day it all began, the day I saw him. Lucca was the handsome man even rich women
wondered about, the man any woman would dream about.
For me he was a guardian angel, a savior in the worst possible time sent down to rescue me.
Since I first put my eyes on him I had wondered what it would be like to be his, what it would feel like to
be owned by Lucca Sanati.
The day I met Lucca I didn't wonder, he didn't exist, he wasn't even an image in the depths of my
dreams.
No, my dreams were real, plain, boring, my dreams were another person's life. The ones with food on a
table, a bed to sleep on, and a jacket to keep you warm.
Even considering anything more would be too much. My dream was simple- get a job, get a small place
and just live.
Maybe have a good meal to eat, and if I am lucky a thick blanket to cover with.
Yeah, my dreams were simple but to me they were unreachable, unattainable things that were so out of
my reach there was no other word to call that which I wanted but a dream.
The sound of the door creaking open, is just a reminder of how much a dream that really was. Just like
everything else in my life. Normal never stood a chance.