" I'm sor-"
"DON'T, JUST DON'T SAY IT. YOU DO NOT EVEN DESERVE TO SAY IT AFTER WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME! I BEGGED YOU, SCREAMED AND PLEAD, BUT YOU DIDN'T HEED MY WORDS. THEN WHY SHOULD I!"
I yelled with tears streaming down my face when witnessing m...
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Three years...
It has been three years since I had escaped that cell torture.
It had been three years since I had ran away from him.
It has been three years that I last contacted my closed contacts.
Because I remembered what he had said before letting me go,
Flashback:
The gentle chirping of birds and a subtle disturbance in the air roused me from my slumber. As consciousness slowly returned, I became aware of my surroundings—a sea of white enveloping my vision. A weary sigh escaped my lips as realization dawned; I was in a hospital once again. The irony of my perpetual misfortune wasn't lost on me, forced to endure life despite my circumstances.
Attempting to sit up, I winced as pain shot through my body, the bandages and IV line attached to my hand serving as stark reminders of my condition. My eyes scanned the room, settling on the bedside table. Parched, I yearned for the glass of water that sat tantalizingly close, yet just out of reach. I heaved a sigh and laid down on the bed staring at the ceiling.
As I lay there, fragments of memory began to surface, piecing together the events that had led me to this sterile sanctuary. Anger bubbled up inside me as I recalled his accusations, his words cutting deeper than the cold that had seeped into my bones. I remembered how I ended up here. Him accusing me of being the child of those abusers and then leaving me to freeze in that cold, dark basement. Anger surged through me. How dare he? How dare he keep me there without even knowing who I was? And he has the nerve to call himself an underworld don. Don, my foot. I swear if I were to see him now, I will make sure that he sees my wrath.
And the audacity of him to threaten me with my closed ones!
Although I know that he has the powers to harm my people, and that created a fear in me, but the thought that I had to suffer the doings of a person I have no relation to is what angers me the most. Even before he had said that I was there because of my family, and I had questioned him but the way that he just changed the topic made me also forget about it.
And when he revealed the truth to me, it was just absurd. Did this guy really just assume that I was the daughter of a rapist? That itself is disgusting. Whenever I think about that guy the only question that comes to mind is how can my father who is so pure and so kind have a brother so vile and evil like this. But you know as they say, if there is good, there is evil also.
And what was he saying about me belonging to him? What is he? A psycho?
Lost in my tumultuous thoughts, the dryness in my throat became unbearable. I made another attempt to reach for the glass, stretching as far as my battered body would allow. My fingers grazed the cool surface, but instead of grasping it, I inadvertently sent it crashing to the floor.
