"Do you trust me Remi?"
"I don't trust anyone."
"Why not?," he asked.
" Because every time I trust someone, they end up reminding me why I shouldn't trust anyone at all."
*
Remington Taylor is a girl from a small town called Ashland in Nebraska. A t...
Remington's POV: I woke up in a bedroom. It is very nice. It is themed around blush, white, and gold. It has blush and white bedding and gold drippings down the wall. There is a bright crystal chandelier above the bed. A bench at the bottom of the bed and some plants in the corner. Overall the room is huge and luxurious.
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I got off the bed and made my way to one of the 3 door. One was a full walk-in closet. It was stocked with a bunch of designer brands like Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Burberry, Calvin Klein and so many more. I never grew up with luxuries so many of them I don't know their names.
I walked to the 2nd door and it was a bathroom. It is huge. It has white tile flooring and white walls. A shower that could hold 10 people, a bathtub that could probably fit 4, a double sink with a mirror that stretches all the way across. There were some hygiene products on the counter; toothpaste and toothbrush, floss, deodorant, tampons and pads, hairbrush and hair ties, and shampoo, conditioner, and body-wash.
I walked over to the sink and ran some cool water and splashed on my face. I grabbed the toothbrush and brushed my teeth. I walked back into the closet and went through the dresser and found some light washed, ripped, mom jeans and a black hoodie with a blue butterfly on the front. I grabbed some black, fluffy UGG slippers too.
Most of the clothes in the closet were dresses and crop tops and expensive evening gowns. I don't like wearing clothes that show the scars on my back. The only person who has seen those scars are Venus. I hate them. I have wanted to get them covered with tattoos but I'm afraid of showing them to the tattoo artist. I don't like people touching my back because I get a flashbacks and it makes me freak out.
I took the clothes with me to the bathroom and I took a quick shower and scrubbed the blood of my arms. I hope I didn't get blood on the nice comforter and sheets. I walked out and put a towel around me. I slipped back on my underwear and bra and stuck the jeans on and hoodie and slipped the slippers on. I grabbed the hair brush and brushed my long hair down. I went back into the bedroom and made the bed.
When finished I headed towards the door and opened it. I was surprised it wasn't locked. I walked out and I was met with Gio.
"Hey, sleep well?" He asked.
"Yes, thankyou! Where am I," I replied.
"Your in Manhattan. This is Emilio's estate. My name is Giovanni Morelli. You can call me Gio, everyone else does," he said with a soft chuckle.
He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out my phone and handed it to me. "We are monitoring you phone calls and text messages so don't do anything stupid," he said sternly.
"Oh okay. Thankyou," I said in a quiet tone.
"H-how is he doing? Is he better?" I asked.
"Yes, he is doing fine. He woke up a few hours ago and is well. I actually came her to take you to him. He would like to see you," he replied.
