Arranged Love

2- Liliana

My eyes fluttered open and as I took in my surroundings, I remember that I fell asleep on the cork hard floor instead of the comfort of my own bed.

I go to sit up and immediately regret it, feeling the pain shoot up and through my rib cages which are now definitely fractured from last night.

I finally get the motivation to stand up, and when I do, I feel the need to take a shower and wash all of the blood and grime off of me.

I start the shower putting it at a particularly hot temperature, and I strip my clothes down. Always making sure that I lock the door. I know that he's not here anymore, but I just need the closure of knowing that the door is locked and if he ever shows up again, he won't be able to get in.

I let the hot water run over my hair and my face. Something about hot showers just washes all of your pain away and makes you forget about everything that you're stressing about. I pour the shampoo onto my hair and rub it into my scalp groaning at the amazing feeling. I finish everything that I need to do in the shower and I leave my bathroom to go get dressed.

Im picking out my clothes and I settle on a pair of black leggings and a beige hoodie. As I'm about to start changing, my father barges into my room without knocking, and immediately starts screaming at me.

He screams at me that I need to get dressed and look nice because we have guests coming over. He proceeds to tell me that I look disgusting and need to at least try to make myself look decent. A tear rolls down my face as soon as he shuts the door.

The memories come flooding back to me of when his closest friends would come over and my father would parade me around like a little show horse. When I turned 12 years old he started to let his friends touch me for their pleasure. No matter how much I screamed and cried, they never stopped.

I snapped myself out of it as I was not going to let the past get a hold of me like it always does.

I dressed myself into a black dress that hugged all of my curves perfectly, showing off my hourglass body. It was long enough that father wouldn't yell at me and call me things like shut and whore. But also short enough to make me feel somewhat good about myself, minus the bruises on my lefts and arms. Those could be covered up with makeup though. I learned to always have my bruises covered up the hard way.

I'm finishing up my makeup when I hear a loud knock on the door making me flinch and almost jump out of my seat. I hear the door opening and I assume it's my mother. She always was the one to greet people, she comes off as a sweet and loving person. But she hurts me almost as much as father does.

I hear a harsh voice yelling at me, my father, beckoning for me to come downstairs and say hello to our guests.

I slip on some nice sparkly heels that don't really do anything to my height, I'm still very short for my age.

I slowly make my way to the stairs trying not to fall. I don't wear heels often because I am never allowed to go anywhere outside of the house.

I'm halfway down the stairs when I look up to see a pair of gray eyes piercing through me and shivers immediately run down my spine.

He is very tall which makes him even more intimidating than his eyes. I'd say he's about 6,3 feet tall, with very broad shoulders, and can almost see his muscles flexing through his white button up shirt under his jacket. He has perfectly brown fluffy hair which sits so perfectly on him. His skin tone is a beautiful golden tan and it makes me quite insecure of how pale I am, it's mostly because of the malnutrition.

While I'm in my own land gawking at the goddess of a man before me, I hear my father snap at me to introduce myself. I obey quickly due to the anxiety I get from my father yelling at me.