As I lay next to my two babies huddled up in the corner, all I could hear was their breathing. Although I could feel Atsa's leg digging into my side, Carlo drooled down my chest. Sweat dribbled off my lip and down to my chin. Everything seemed so calm, so safe, but at the same time so suspicious.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up to Carlo crying. This cry seemed like a cry of terror, and one this momma has never heard before. However, my heart sunk when I jumped up and found myself in a glass box.
While my baby lay across the room on the floor crying, I was locked away, unable to get to him.
"Carlo! My baby," I screamed, as Asta sat wide eye's in the corner too scared to even move.
Then the door opened, and Asta closed her eyes so tight. A man with shaggy hair walked in, and picked Carlo up. He kissed the top of his head, then began walking over to me. I could only pray carlo's father is somewhat put together. All I can see when I look at this man is disgusting waste.
As he stood in front of me, face to face all he could do was smirk. He looked me dead in the eyes then his eyes locked on my sweet innocentboy. He whispered to Carlo, "My sweet, sweet nephew."
It was then I knew. I knew that it was Pietro. That manipulative asshole looked even uglier in person. His breath stunk like old cigars, and whiskey. His clothes were freshly ironed, but completely covered in sweat stains.
He looked me up and down, running his nasty hands along carlo's arm. Asta, still in the corner shielding her eyes from the scary man.
"Why me? Why are we here?" I asked.
Then he laid Carlo down beside the glass, and walked out without saying another word. Then Asta ran to be by her brother, and as she looked through the glass I seen the hope leave her young soft eyes.
The door opened again, and Pietro carried in an unconscious female...no older than 20.
"Who is that," I screamed.
He looked back and smiled, then sat her down on the floor. Then he turned to look at me, and just shook his head.
"Let me out! Let me out now," I cried throwing myself to the ground.
He rolled his eyes, then stormed towards the glass. He punched the door so hard the entire box shook but somehow didn't break.
"Who do think you are?" He screamed at me," You should know by now, it's better to stop asking!"
Then he smiled, "Hush, you're gonna wake my nephew...and your new company."
"Fuck you," I grunted then spit on the glass on the door behind him.
A man with dark hair came in. He stormed towards the unconscious girl, then slapped her till her eyes slowly opened. He then forced her to her feet, and shoved her towards my children. He threw Carlo in her hands, then shoved pietro out the room and loved the door behind them.
" what's your name," I whispered to the girl.
But she simply rolled her eyes in response, her expression a mix of exasperation and indifference. With a gentle yet firm motion, she began to rock my son back and forth, cradling him as if to soothe his restless energy. She appeared quite young, perhaps in her early twenties, her dark hair falling straight down her back, though it had a slightly greasy sheen that hinted she hadn't washed it in days. Her skin was pale, contrasting sharply with the tired shadows under her eyes, which suggested she had been deprived of sleep for far too long.
As I observed her more closely, my attention was caught by a band wrapped tightly around her ankle. An unsettling blinking red light pulsated from it, casting a faint glow on her skin. It was then I turned my gaze toward the man beside her, his dark salt-and-pepper hair framing a face that radiated a mix of authority and concern.
"You're tracking her," I scoffed, incredulity lacing my voice as I leveled my eyes at him, unable to hide my disdain for the situation.
"This one's been here for a while; she gets to go outside sometimes," he laughed.
"Outside," she thought, not remembering how the sun felt on her skin. Poor Carlo hasn't been outside either, even though he's only a few months old he's spent every second in the dark.
"Now you, you're nosey," he sneered just before walking over to Asta.
"Dont you touch her," I fumed.
He grabbed the back of her hair and forcefully pulled her out of the room, where Pietro grabbed her. "Oh, you think you're in charge," He mocked.
"Don't do this!" I pleaded, my voice trembling with desperation.
He chuckled darkly. "She'll be locked in the room next door."
"Vic," Pitro interjected, trying to reason with him.
"Silence!" Victor barked with an intensity that sliced through the heavy atmosphere, his voice resonating like a thunderclap in the stillness of the room.
