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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My conversation with Zietta was pleasant, aside from my near breakdown about Rowan and her past revelation about her relationship with Vincenzo's and Cata's mother.
My interaction with Zietta Giulia today was the third one we'd had since I'd gotten here, and during all of the others, she'd kept an aura of calm and composed (with a side of silly).
Our heart to heart about the comparison of my sadness about Rowan's absence and hers about the passing of her best friend was the first time I'd seen her visibly hurt.
It had been years since she'd lost her friend but somehow, the wounds of detachment still seemed fresh in her heart. A feeling I knew all too well.
I'd lost my mother at ten years old, and now, twelve years later, I still thought about her fondly, her memories intensifying these past few days without Rowan.
I wondered if she looked down from heaven angry or disappointed at me. I'd lived my life under men and only succeeded in keeping Rowan alive for years, alive without actually 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 life. Confined to a brothel and tortured because of a sister who held him back.
During the age of thirteen, when kids would be transitioning from middle school to high school, preparing for their future careers, I was in a brothel, being forced to have sex every other night to keep myself and my brother alive.
A brother that was supposed to grow up strong and healthy was left weak and malnourished due to lack of food and energy. Any money I made in that shithole went to Dubois.
She threw ten dollars at my face every week to fend for myself and Rowan. Ten dollars that she expected to last us a week before I saw another cent again.
The cruel part was that she charged sixty dollars for me and earned that amount out of my services daily. Yet, she couldn't spare more than ten dollars for food, provisions, and medicine for the slashes she'd inflicted on a daily basis.
I shook my head, dispersing the thoughts that had crawled into my head unexpectedly.
I had no idea when they got there, but they left a raw feeling of blades on my skin from remembering all that.
I sucked oxygen back into my lungs and concentrated on opening my room door.
I'd decided to spend the rest of the day in my bedroom writing the dumb little story about the flowers that I'd started to keep myself entertained before Cata got back. She had told me that she was going to a mall for some light shopping for herself.
With any luck, I would get a reader out of Zietta when or if I finished it, she 𝗱𝗶𝗱 drop a not so subtle hint about wanting to read the rest when I finished as I left the kitchen.
