𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞 જ⁀➴

Prolouge

Cassandra never really gave much thought to how she would die but to be brutally raped was not even a close second to those of the options she would have chosen.

Rays of moonlight beamed through the murky skies, penetrating the window that belonged to the girl. A bloody one, but nonetheless still a pale faced girl. Like majority of her summer nights, her stomach was pinned to the mattress—sweat drenching the outline of her limbs. But this night had not bared the same dreary outcome as the previous. No, this was appointed by a long-hooded visitor—unwanted—with the extended invitation of six others. The overwhelming incense of putrid smoke and sour steam of their beaded sweat still glided in mocking beads down the temple of Cassandra's forehead, from the vapor of their breath pressed to the sharp panel of her cheek. A curved dent formed beneath her limp being from the indentures of their forceful hands pinning her downwards, hurting her in ways she wouldn't wish upon others.

Cassandra feared they had broken a bone or three from the multiple pangs of agony she experienced pierce her from every direction possible. So for that she had not moved. Not a single inch. Just merely bathed and basked in the tears that mounted upon the stained previous. The humid air was rank, the bed painted with jagged stripes of crimson that matched the shade that lathered her inner thighs—coats of mutilated bloodshed. But nothing, absolutely nothing, hurt more than the searing jolts of heat in the section where they had branded her.

The door creaked open and in came the footfalls that belonged to those who appeared nightly. The one Cassandra had grown so accustomed to, for which he was only the reason as to why she bared her bedroom open that very night; the outline of his familiar dark silhouette the one she was in fact hoping in wait for, instead that of the other eleven.

But by the time Aleksandr Romanov finally made his awaited appearance, it was already too late.

By then Cassandra Grey was already better off dead.

"Cassie!" Aleksandr choked on strangled whine—screamed like a pained banshee at night, hands shaking with unease.

Cassandra did not respond to his horrific wails; she was so adamant it would haunt every breathing, fleeting moment of her doomed life. Mouth slack and uneven, she remained steadily conscious, though she had unknowingly sunken in a state of dreamless paralysis, drowsy and hazed, her battered mind nothing but a sea of scattered thoughts and memories she hoped to burn senseless. Aleksandr sobbed hopeless pleas at the girl, but her breath appeared too labored for a reply.

"I'm so sorry." The boy repeatedly cried—pleaded.

I wish you were my brother, Cassandra silently professed.

Compared objectively to her older brother, Adonis, Cassandra understood from a young age all she would be in contrast to him was second best. A sad alternative. The irrelevant mistake birthed to insure there would always be a spare to share when the original heir failed to do what was asked. And Adonis, oh how he was nothing but important, so effortlessly wanted it made Cassandra's heart ache from the mere mention of his talents. Tutors and mentors swarmed the Grey manor determined to right wrong and make more use of the prodigy that was Adonis Grey; the rightful heir to the fascist regime of the Grey family.

The brains, talent and face of the generation.

Although Cassandra was subjected to, if anything, more attention than her older brother, it was strictly due to the lack of naturalness that emitted from hers in comparison to his, but still, no matter how much Cassandra rose in the ranks of academia, she would never mount to the same standards that barricaded Adonis. Because he was the embodiment of all things perfect.  Yet still, Cassandra loved him dearly. Perhaps more than she had ever truly loved anyone before, because although he made her appear worthless in the eyes of their respective parents and extended families, he still first and foremost put her first. Always. And Cassandra was usually nothing but second choice when it came to anything in her life.