{𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒌 1}
𝒁𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝑻𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒔
Is the girl no one really noticed. She hides her face- with all the horrid bruises present- behind a facade, and makes sure no one suspects a single thing about the hell she's met with at her home with her 'parents...
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Once my eyes have gotten used to the immense big source of light, I see the man brought me in an all white room. No windows are visible, and everything is a plain, bright white.
A torture method I've been told by my brothers. The concept is putting a person in an all white cell for a really long time, refusing to even feed them a tad of color.
However everything is white, there's one slight mishap; the red tone of blood is displayed on the wall. The sight makes my heart drop, knowing who's it from.
Luca.
I feel a slight tug at the end of my probably tangled hair, and spin around fast, catching Nikolai playing with my hair.
His smile is wide, as if he's pleased with me being here. As if he's been waiting for this.
"Now Zina." He says with a thick Russian accent, placing his hands steadily on both of my shoulders. "listen to my request пожалуйста." (Please)
I don't even have the time to answer when he pushes me further against the wall, now making sure his head is hovering over mine.
He strokes my hair out of my face, and touches my cheek with his tumb, not averting his gaze from my face for a second.
"Такой красивый." He mutters to himself and I frown, not recognizing anything he's saying. (So, so beautiful)
He suddenly goes in to give me a kiss on the mouth, and I duck in disgust. I never want him to touch me with his hands reeking of innocent blood.
A sudden flame of anger seems to take over him, as he grabs my arms and pushes me hard against the wall trapping me because of his body weight being pressed against me.
"You're going to cooperate, understood?" He demands, my shoulders protesting under his grip.
He smacks my cheek hard, and I feel the burn of his handprint on my face. My head slams to the side from the Impact, but he uses his hand to force my face to his, by tightly gripping my cheek.
"Understood!?" He now yells in my face, red with flaming hot anger.
I quickly nod, too scared to do anything against like everyone has told me I should. I already know I will be too weak to fight back once again.
He sleepily starts trailing sloppy kisses down my neck, and I can't seem to protest anymore. Fear has stopped my body from working, rather freezing it up making it impossible for me to do anything against his harassment.
When he reaches the neckline of my dress, I push my eyes shut, forcing myself to control my breathing.
All of a sudden, I feel a piercing sharp pain rushing over me, making me whimper in pain. He has cut off my tattoo I share with all of my brothers and which I have received at birth. Knowing this already makes me realize my situation is way worse than I'd thought. That tattoo was the only real thing that connected me and my family in this hellhole.
