chasing angels ・❥・Brian O'Connor fic

sixty eight ・❥・ bragas dollhouse

・❥・

Lolas pov...

I was losing my damn mind.

I'd been gone for ten days, taking constant beatings and getting myself into trouble over and over again. You would've thought that I learnt my lesson the first time I was almost beat to death, but I didn't. I could only keep my mouth shut for so long before I said something stupid.

But the last time words left my lips was two days ago. I muttered a stupid comment under my breath and Braga had accidentally overheard. The devil wrapped his hand around my neck so tightly that it not only broke my voice, but I thought it was going to kill me as well.

Whilst I sat locked up in a musty basement, I was sure Braga was upstairs celebrating at the fact he'd finally shut me up. I could finally be his perfect little silent doll.

Nobody was coming for me, not Dom, not Brian.

Braga was obsessed with me, obsessed with keeping me and moulding me into whoever the hell he wanted/thought I was. He was holding onto me so tightly, keeping me hidden so well that under different circumstances I would find it impressive.

'To the women we've lost and loved.'

His weird lingering gazes from the start were a sign. I was always going to end up being taken, it was unfortunate and unstoppable.

The gate to my own personal hell creaked open and I didnt bother looking up. Dylan hadn't bothered me since he threw up at the sight of me being choked a week ago. The asshole couldn't stomach it and he was being punished for his weakness. Karma. I had a stronger stomach than him, the weak bitch baby.

"I didn't know anyone was down here."

My head snapped up at the same time my eyes flew to the direction of her voice. Women were never around and for a good reason. Braga treated women like crap, as if they were disposable.

My eyes were locked onto Gizelle who was standing frozen in the doorway, unsure on whether to walk any further into the room or run. My lips parted, making a dull ache throb in the back of my throat. He'd crushed my windpipe, even if I wanted to speak I would barely be able to get out anything louder than a whisper.

I watched as her eyes travelled down my neck, to the endless bruises and hand prints painted across my skin. I knew she was putting the pieces together, but I didn't know if she knew who I was.

I knew I looked like hell, I wouldn't recognise myself either.

Her eyes narrowed on mine, she looked frustrated. I needed her to get frustrated enough to work out who I was. Even though I wasn't stupid enough to believe she would ever help me, I hoped she'd at least tell Dom where I was. She owed him that from the way he saved her ass at the shit show that ended up being my downfall.

"Lola?"

I didn't know how she did it but someone had to be on my side, perhaps going to confession was exactly what I needed. A weird twisted smile ghosted my lips, lord knew what my face looked up, for all I knew I could've looked in pain. Still, I couldn't move my neck, I just prayed my weird freaky expression was enough to tip her off.

Her eyes narrowed on me again before giving me a once over. She wasn't moving from her place in the doorway, she was just inspecting me with her eyes. I tried to move, tried to nod. But the longer she narrowed her eyes on me, the more I felt like I was going to slip into cardiac arrest.

She wasn't recognizing me.

What the holy hell did Braga do to me?

As she turned her back, I started to panic. I needed her to come back, to look at me again and see who I was. Adrenaline flooded my veins and I thrashed about like a dumb fish on land. I wasn't getting her attention though, she probably thought I was having a seizure of something.