Miles Angelo Matteo, the new leader of the Italian mafia. He has hard life decisions to make and no one is to get in his way. Those walls are to remain and no one is to step near it. But one girl changes that.
Stella Marie Martin is a bright girl...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I open the door slowly to see my father sitting down in the living room. The TV wasn't on. He was just sitting there silently like he's been waiting for me.
My eyes scan him and I notice his tight grip on the belt in his hands. My breaths grow quicker as I nervously try to walk past him and into my room. "I didn't say you could go." He barks.
I turn to look at him. He scans me from head to toe and clenches his fists. "What the fuck are you wearing!?"
When I don't respond, he stands and lets out a sickening laugh. "Turning into a whore just like your mother..."
I notice his words aren't slurred. He isn't drunk. He's well aware and knows exactly what he's saying. "Hm!? Why are you late?"
Scared, I don't respond.
He chuckles again, wickedly. "Come here, Stella."
I shake my head frantically, stepping backwards as he steps closer. Suddenly, his fist finds my face causing me to stumble back and onto the floor. He continues to throw punches at me and I don't even try to fight back. I take every punch and not a single tear falls from my eyes. There's no point.
Maybe I deserve it.
I went out without permission and dressed inappropriately. I didn't come home on time and didn't give my father money. All things that went wrong.
I watched as my blood dripped onto the floor. My father looks at me like I'm dirt on the bottom of his shoe. "Clean up that blood! I ain't paying for a new floorboard." He grumbles.
"Chica estúpida. Buena para absolutamente nada." He mumbles, pushing past me and closing his door behind him. {Stupid girl. Good for absolutely nothing.}
I nod and wobble into my room feeling weak. I removed the blue dress that my father had put rips in and threw it out. I have to pay Alessia back for that.
I wash as much blood as possible and look into my drawers.
I sigh and remove my bra and put an oversized navy blue shirt over my shorts. I sit and hug my knees into my chest until I comfortably lay down and sleep.
♡︎♡︎♡︎
It's been three days.
My head hurts. It has been since my father had a little fun fucking up my face.
I'm so glad I've had the weekend and this Monday off but Alessia has contacted me more than a hundred times. I responded to some of her messages telling her I was fine, and that I needed rest.
She knocked on my door a few times to check on me but I didn't answer. I couldn't.
The bruises on my body have never been like this before. It's something not even a little concealer can fix.
