Stolen Love

Chapter Twenty Six

Anonymous

As I met my gaze in the mirror, my grinning reflection greeted me as I inhaled deeply. The floor-length mirror displayed every detail of my physique, the result of years of dedication.

"You look beautiful!" I whispered.

It has taken me years to sculpt this body, transforming from an oversized, insecure child who sought comfort in food to a graceful hourglass figure. Years of enduring the hardships inflicted by that venomous mother of mine.

I laughed as my punch met the mirror, sending shards of glass cascading in front of me.

My naked form moved freely, exposing the flaws more distinctly than I had anticipated or desired.

"Fuck!" I muttered as I glanced at the man resting on the bed.

Approaching the bed, I observed him lying motionless, affected by the substances I had secretly added to his drink earlier. Men. So fucking gullible.

Witnessing him suffer, I observed as he let out a groan, clutching his head in an attempt to communicate his whereabouts before retreating back under the covers. As I stroked his firm abs, he moaned and accidentally called out his wife's name, prompting me to despair over the predictability of married men.

My attraction seemed to be exclusively drawn to faithful, married men, and it was all due to that woman, Mia. Fucking. Callaghan, and her infuriating family.

Recalling a tumultuous memory from my past, I idly played with the hair of my victim, my thoughts drifting to my father. I remembered the sound of shattering glass on the kitchen floor, the result of my father's enraged advance towards my mother, a stunning woman with long, ebony hair and emerald eyes. Her radiant, tan complexion starkly contrasted against my father's pale skin, lending her an ethereal quality that captivated the world.

"I refuse to continue living like this," she cried with frustration.

He approached her with his dark eyes, gulping his cherished brandy that had been untouched since their wedding. I stood at the top of the staircase, witnessing the scene as a 19-year-old.

"You are the fucking devil!" He shouted at her.

I watched as they glared at each other with resentment.

"I hate you! I never wanted to marry you!" She yelled, hurling a glass in his direction, while he skillfully dodged it, advancing towards her.

As he came to a halt before her, he seized her by the neck and she shot him an enraged look.

"You're a fucking monster!" She cursed and shut her eyes.

I sensed my brother's presence as he eased himself down beside me, his 16-year-old self observing the unfolding drama ahead. Exhaling deeply, he rested his head on my shoulder while I gently tapped his hand that had landed on my knee, seeking to console him. A familiar sight in the dynamics of our parents.

"I have always loved you, and you chose that fucking weasel over me!" He retorted, his grasp tightening.

We witnessed her striking his hands and then moving to his face, causing him to stumble backwards. He instinctively covered his now bloodied face with his hand. The alcohol had clearly taken a heavy toll on him. If I were in his shoes, I doubt I could have remained standing.

"He was my first love, you kidnapped me, you fucking bastard!" she screamed.

My brother glanced at me, and as I met his gaze, we were both left speechless. We had always understood that we were the offspring of a mafia boss's son, but hearing those words from my mother deeply shook me. She had been kidnapped?

She continued to pound her fists against his chest, crying until exhaustion overcame her, causing her to collapse onto the kitchen counter, sobbing.

She wept, her hair veiling her face as she gazed at him with loathing.

"You! dragged Me! Away! From! My! Daughter!" She lashed out at his chest, causing him to stumble.

"You! Tore! Me! From! My! husband!" She struck again until my father toppled backward.

"You snatched me from my loved ones, to endure this wretched existence raising the offspring you forced upon me!" She screamed.

Beside me, my brother glanced over, and I tried to console him as he whimpered softly. We understood that our mother despised us, as she met our gaze with animosity every day, neglecting us. We never asked for this, never chose to be here. She was our mother, we didn't pick who we were brought into this world by. Why did she blame us?

As my father shoved her away, his fury reached a boiling point, causing her to tumble and hit her head on the floor, the shattered glass piercing her skin.

"Just kill me please, I don't want to live like this anymore," she murmured with blood pooling around her head.

In shock, we observed as my father angrily smashed his decanter against the counter, holding the jagged half with determination as he advanced towards her.

"I've always loved you, Violet! Why couldn't you love me in return?" he lamented as he climbed over her.

Was it because our mother was already married and had a daughter that she didn't love me?

She rested there gazing into his eyes.

"Because my love was stolen," she uttered, shutting her eyes, before he grasped the sharp tip with both hands and thrust it into her chest.

I witnessed him repeatedly stab her, my brother turned away and dashed to his chamber in a flood of tears. He loved her despite whatever she did to us. He resembled her in every way.

There were instances when she embraced and cherished him. She never once did that for me. I took after my father. Pale complexion, deep brown eyes, brown hair. I didn't inherit any of the elegance my mother possessed, nothing at all.

After causing harm to her, he rose and proceeded to his chamber, summoning someone. The sound of the shower indicated his sobs as he lamented in there, calling out for her while her lifeless body lay cold on the kitchen floor.

As I sat there, gazing at her lifeless form, I felt an overwhelming rage. My fury was directed towards her more than anyone else. I was incensed at my father for his actions, and at the fact that we were born into such a situation. I was consumed with anger, but I lacked an outlet for my frustrations.

Suddenly, I broke free from my thoughts and looked down at this enchanting stranger. I desired for him to awaken and find me in his embrace. However, the memories of my parents enraged me.

I retrieved my cherished blade from my bag and positioned myself atop him. He was beginning to regain consciousness as the effects of the drugs wore off. Time was short. I could sense his arousal as I rubbed my core against him.

Gripping his shaft as he softly groaned, I descended upon him, taking him in. Slowly, I initiated the motion and he began to moan. As I accelerated, approaching climax, he grasped my hips, thrusting himself into me and calling his wife's name.

Raising both my hands and placing the dagger between them, he gradually opened his eyes. The sight of him gazing up at the blade, his eyes widening, was met by my plunge deep into his chest, eliciting agonized screams. As I reached climax, my moans filled the air as I repeatedly stabbed him until he lay completely motionless.

After minutes of pure pleasure, I collapsed beside him panting. I was still coming down from my high, sweat careened my forehead as I stared up into the ceiling. A soft glow from the moonlight beamed in, showcasing this bloody murder I had just committed and it was exhilarating.