(edited)
Flashback:
"Vorrei che tu non fossi mai nato! Ti vorrei morto adesso!" (I wish you were never born! I want you dead right now!)
I was curled up on the cold floor, arms over my head, bare back exposed to the leather belt that cut through the air with a whistle before it slashed my skin. My father's breath reeked of tequila, and his hands trembled as he brought the belt down again and again, each strike filled with the kind of hatred no child should ever endure.
I didn't cry out. I wasn't allowed to. Screaming was forbidden. Crying was punished. My throat burned with the screams trapped inside, my lips clamped shut to hold them in. I was shaking. Blood trickled down my back, mingling with sweat and silent tears. My vision blurred from the pain, but I could still see my mother sitting in the armchair, legs crossed, flipping through a gossip magazine as if she couldn't hear the torture echoing through our home.
"We should have let her die along with the other six little bastards" she muttered, eyes still glued to the page.
Something shattered inside me.
One final lash, and my father stepped back, panting. Then... darkness. My body collapsed, too weak to fight anymore.
At nine years old, I didn't understand what she meant. What other six? Why did they want me dead so badly?
That was five years ago.
I know what she meant now. The 'six little bastards' weren't strangers. They were my brothers. My real family. The ones who found me, saved me, loved me. The six little bastards are now the reason I'm still alive.
I walked down the road, headphones on, lost in the music blasting into my ears. That day was burned into my memory. Not just the pain, but the revelation. Those six boys? They didn't die. They found me.
They fought for me. Bled for me. They taught me to laugh again. To breathe. To believe I was more than what my parents made me feel like.
But even now, as I walked, another ache gnawed at my heart.
Myles.
Why wasn't he talking to me today? Had I said something wrong? Done something I didn't realize? I hated this. The silence. The cold shoulder... I missed him! I wanted to kiss him, hug him, bury myself in his arms. But he wouldn't even look at me...
My phone buzzed. A message from Valeria.
Val:
Hey babe, sorry, I can't make it today after all. I left something for you on the bench under the big tree. You'll know which one.Another box? My stomach twisted. I was starting to get tired of these mysterious boxes!
I entered the park, eyes scanning until I spotted it. The bench. The same one where Myles kissed me for the first time. And there it was: a small cartoon-decorated box with my name written neatly across the top. I snatched it quickly, shoved it into my bag, and started heading home.
My thoughts were spiraling into something darker. Myles. And Jess. Why were they talking yesterday? Why didn't he tell me about it? My grip tightened on my bag.
He'll better tell me the truth, or I swear, I'll cut his damn head off!
The sudden screech of tires made me freeze in my tracks. A sleek black Range Rover skidded to a stop beside me, and for a second, my heart jumped into my throat. My fingers dove into my bag, wrapping tightly around my gun... until a familiar voice called out.

YOU ARE READING
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 | ✓
Teen FictionI ran downstairs into the living room, my heart pounding as I found all my brothers gathered around Nefeli. Her eyes were frantic, scanning the room, desperately searching for me. The scream that bastard had let out earlier must have reached her... ...