Special thanks to @jiyoungmochi for the cover!!
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❝𝐀 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥. ❞
Renata Vartanov had been through hell. Sold to a brothel and thrusted into prostitution at thirteen along with her then toddler...
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❀𝓡𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓪❀
"Dear, at least eat some fruit. I made you a tropical fruit salad." Zietta Giulia said as she slid a flat plate of various assorted fruits in through the threshold of the door.
"No thank you. I'm not hungry." I lied weakly even though my mouth watered at the sight of such a delicacy.
I wanted a bite, but I didn't trust myself to hold in food.
I woke up this morning feeling sick to my stomach and dehydrated from tears.
Water helped, but thoughts of food when my brother could potentially be injured or dead sent a geyser of bile to my throat that could erupt at any second.
"Fine," Zietta started with a sigh. "You have a visitor." She chirped suddenly.
My head rose out of my knees as I stared toward the door.
"Zietta I told you I wanted to be alone, please—"
"Hello," a soft voice stopped my words. "My name is Elijah. I'm one of the boys that were rescued yesterday. I have something important to tell you. Can I come in?"
Part of the boys rescued yesterday. What was he doing here at my door?
"Please?" His voice carried an urgency.
I took a deep breath, already regretting what I was about to do.
I got up from my crouch on the floor and went toward the door, picking up the fruit salad as I gingerly opened the door.
I saw a redheaded boy with chocolate brown eyes and a charming expression on his face.
I let him in and gave the fruit salad back to Zietta. "I'm sorry. I can't bring myself to eat right now." I met her eyes. They swelled with pity and understanding.
"It's okay, dear. But please eat soon. It's bad for your health." She gave my arm a squeeze and took the salad from me with a light touch of sadness.
I closed the door with a sigh, feeling guilty about my refusal of her kind gesture.
My eyes met the boy—Elijah—standing still, staring at me strangely like I was a circus attraction.
Then again, I bet I looked like a clown with my hair tied up in a messy bun that was coming loose with small movements, a dishevelled face with blotchy cheeks and sunken eyes from too much crying. And my clothes which consisted of chequered shorts and a pyjama shirt, plus a one footed sock. (I had lost the other earlier today while getting out of bed...don't ask).
"You look...different from how Rowan described you. Good different, of course." He said with a nervous chuckle.
My eyes widened in shock. 𝗥𝗼𝘄𝗮𝗻.
He knew Rowan!
"You know my brother?" I questioned breathlessly.
"Know him? The kid made himself known during the first hour of our confinement with his muttering and screaming. We all screamed, but his were the loudest. It carried the most pain." He rambled.
