𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏-𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 || 𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗞 |

𝗫𝗜

The moon shone through the dark night, casting its cold light over the mansion in a way that only intensified the emptiness inside. Silence settled over the rooms, each one holding its secrets, as if even the walls were afraid to reveal what happened behind closed doors.

The nightmares haunting vulnerable souls

Inside one room, a voice whispered into the darkness. "Eomma, pl-please," you murmured, voice trembling, sounding both broken and helpless.

You

I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, as shadows danced across it. My mind churned with everything that had unfolded recently, each memory prying at the thin armor I wore around my heart. I took a shaky breath, letting my mask fall, if only in the quiet solitude of my room.

A sudden knock at the door made me tense. It creaked open slowly, and my mother, Yeo-been, stepped inside. Her presence filled the room, her gaze so cold it sent chills down my spine. I sat up quickly, and my eyes darted to the black leather belt she clutched tightly in her hand. My pulse quickened, my mouth went dry, and I tried to look at her, silently asking why—why this again.

A twisted, sinister smile crept onto her face, a look that sent waves of dread through me. She closed the door softly, locking it behind her, sealing us both inside.

"Sweetheart~" she cooed, her voice like poisoned honey, dripping with false affection. Every word dripped with malice, and I felt my voice catch in my throat, trapped by the fear swelling inside me.

"Y-yes, Mom," I replied, barely able to keep my voice steady. I knew all too well that silence was dangerous—that hesitation would only make it worse.

"Do you know why I’m here, honey?" she asked, her voice soft but menacing. She tightened her grip on the leather belt, her knuckles turning white.

She paused, her dark eyes flaring with irritation. "You’ve been such a brat lately," she finally said, each word seeping with disappointment that felt like daggers to my heart. "Rude to Giulia, baby."

Her hand reached out, cupping my face as her thumb traced my cheek, deceptively gentle. But then, her nails dug sharply into my chin, making me wince. A smirk crossed her face, satisfied, as though my pain was her delight.

"You deserve a punishment, babygirl. You’ll be a good girl for mommy and take it, won’t you?" she asked, her hand tightening on my chin. My throat tightened, and I could feel the hot sting of tears in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I nodded, feeling defeated.

"That’s my good girl," she said, patting my hair with a mock gentleness that only deepened the humiliation. "Now, tell me—why were you being a brat, hmm? What was all that drama about? Being a bad girl, honey, means I need to teach you your manners again."

With that, she yanked my hair back, forcing me to meet her gaze. She took pleasure in every whimper, every flinch, as though they were her rewards.

"Now be a good girl and lie down, pants down, on your stomach," she ordered. Her voice echoed, cold and commanding. I felt a shiver run through me. "Mom, p-please…" I whimpered, pleading, hoping against hope.

Her eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation that made my blood run cold. "What did I say, Y/N?" she demanded, her voice hard as steel.