The Devil's doll

Chapter 1

Cecilia
---
Im having the worst morning of my life. Need it to pour my self two or three cups of coffe. To correct myself four. Its the weekend I should enjoy going out, spending time with my friends. Fuck that and fuck me for choosing to study major of architecture.

I still think why did I choose it, not that only I loved it and being passionate about it also I would get a lot of money. The problem wasnt that i stayed all night building this big mansion model with lots of details. It had been a long night, spent meticulously crafting every detail of my mansion model. I'd wanted it to convey an old-money vibe, something timeless and elegant. The most annoying part was to clean up the mess I made. But the real reason for my lack of sleep was the looming terror of my professors' judgment. Their critiques could be brutal, and I was determined to avoid the humiliation of having my work torn apart in front of my classmates. Thank god, Im on my third year, after having a lot of mental breakdown and repeating to my self I was going to dropped out. Hey...here Im i made it.

Now the problem was that my brother brought home a another girl from the club, fucked together while i was here, hearing them. It was disgusting.

I had to watch them kissing on top the kitchen counter for whole straight 5 minutes each other almost fucking infront of me. Another thing added on my trauma list. Check!

I was halfway through my third cup of coffee when the high-pitched scream shattered my fragile peace. The red-headed girl from the club stood in the kitchen doorway, glaring at me like I was a misplaced object. She was young, probably around my age, and had an air of entitlement about her that rubbed me the wrong way. I tried to ignore her and continued sipping my coffee, my focus still on the architectural plans spread out in front of me.

Mattheo, my older brother, entered the room, yawning and stretching. His casual demeanor contrasted sharply with the tension hanging in the air.

"Good morning, Cecilia," he said, leaning in to plant a kiss on my forehead. Despite our constant bickering and childish antics, this was his way of showing affection. We were like two kids pretending to be adults, managing to keep our relationship intact despite the chaos.

The girl's glare intensified as she pointed at me. "Who is she?"

I looked at her, bewildered. It was too early for this kind of confrontation, and she seemed ready to pick a fight. Before I could respond, Mattheo stepped in, his voice unexpectedly warm.

"Wow, beautiful project you've done, Cecilia. I'm really proud of you. I think this might be my favorite one." His praise was genuine, and it made the hours of hard work feel a bit more worthwhile.

He turned to the girl, who was now glaring daggers at him. "I'm still surprised you're still here. I got what I wanted. Out of here now!" His tone was firm, bordering on harsh. The girl's face showed it all the anger she held inside.

"What's so special about her? You're choosing her over me after I gave you the night of your life? I thought it was something special to us," she spat, her words dripping with resentment. Her arrogance made my stomach churn. I could hardly believe she thought she was entitled to Mattheo's attention at the expense of his own sister.

Mattheo's expression darkened. "She's my sister. If you give her that attitude again, I'm going to drag you back to where you came from. The strip club. Now leave!"

The girl's face fell, and with a huff, she grabbed her things and stormed out of the apartment. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving an uncomfortable silence in her wake.

I sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the morning's events pressing down on me. I'd hoped that Mattheo would have remembered my request about not bringing anyone home when I was here. Clearly, that hadn't registered. He'd assumed I was still away in Italy, but my plans had changed. I wasn't ready to face our father yet, and the prospect of dealing with him was still daunting.

Mattheo's voice cut through my thoughts. "I don't want to force you, but it's probably better to visit Dad. He's been a little sick lately. Maybe his bed rest days are coming to an end."

I looked at him, frustration bubbling up. "Why don't you go then, or we can go together? You know how I feel about him. It's not like I'm eager to see him, either."

Mattheo's gaze shifted away, his discomfort evident. It was a topic we avoided as much as possible. Our father's domineering presence had been a constant source of tension in our lives. Mattheo had saved me from that oppressive environment when I graduated high school, bringing me to New York to pursue my studies. We had managed to carve out our own lives, but the shadow of our father still lingered over us.

We both knew that confronting him would mean reopening old wounds. The thought was almost unbearable, but it seemed inevitable. Mattheo's silence spoke volumes, confirming what I already knew-neither of us was ready to face that part of our past.

The coffee was getting cold, and I realized I had been standing there lost in thought. I turned back to my architectural plans, trying to push away the discomfort of the morning. My work was my refuge, a space where I could focus and create something beautiful despite the chaos surrounding me. I hoped that by the time I saw my father, I'd be strong enough to face him on my own terms.

Mattheo sat down at the kitchen table, his expression pensive. "Maybe we should think about it. Just... not now. Let's figure things out one step at a time."

I nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, one step at a time."

We were both trying to navigate our lives in the best way we knew how, and for now, that meant facing our challenges as they came. The path forward wasn't clear, but I knew we'd face it together.

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. We both understood the need for space and time. The chaos of the morning had unsettled me, but I would try to focus on the positives-my work, my brother's support, and the progress I was making.

After all, that's what kept me going.