A/N:
Kind of a short chapter, but I promise it'll be worth it.
***
Scarlett's P.O.V
This motel room is disgusting.
After every meeting, Antoni always stuck me in a motel room for a day or two in case anyone followed me. Out here, I'm on my own but missing my kids.
I hope they're okay.
24 hours is all I have to wait until I can see them again. I can do this.
As I stand before the mirror, my gaze fixates on the reflection that stares back at me, and a wave of disgust washes over my entire being. Every curve, every imperfection, feels magnified, mocking me with its presence.
My eyes trace the lines and contours of my body, each glance revealing flaws that seem to overshadow any redeeming qualities. I see excess, where I yearn for restraint. I see blemishes, where I long for flawless skin. Every inch of my being is scrutinized, judged, and found wanting.
I'm disgusting.
The weight of self-loathing settles deep within my bones, sinking me further into a pit of despair. It feels as though I am wearing a suit of shame, one that I cannot shed no matter how desperately I try. The very vessel that carries me through life has become an object of disdain, an enemy that I battle day in and day out.
Who could ever love this? Love me?
The loathing I feel for my body extends beyond physical appearance; it permeates my thoughts and emotions. It seeps into my confidence, chipping away at my self-worth, leaving me feeling unworthy of love and acceptance. I am trapped in a relentless cycle of comparison, forever falling short of the unattainable standards that society imposes.
Each passing moment becomes a battleground between acceptance and disgust. I yearn for liberation from this self-imposed torment, for the ability to embrace myself, flaws and all. But the grip of self-disgust is strong, tightly woven into the fabric of my perception.
I hate who I've become.
I walk away from the mirror and sit on the edge of the motel bed, the worn-out sheets crinkling beneath me. It had been a long day, but my mind was far from at ease. My thoughts drifted toward Amara and Axle, who were hopefully sleeping peacefully by now. They were the light of my life, my reason for every decision I made. With a heavy sigh, I absentmindedly traced the floral pattern on the faded wallpaper, yearning for their presence.
As the silence of the room enveloped me, a sudden cacophony shattered the tranquility. My heart skipped a beat, and my body tensed as I strained to identify the source of the commotion. It was unmistakable—a chilling series of sharp, echoing cracks that reverberated through the air. Gunshots. Panic surged through my veins, and my mind raced to comprehend the situation unfolding just outside my motel room.
Have they found me?
Is this the end?
Are my kids safe?
Breathe, Scarlett breathe.
Antoni has two men of his within this complex, I'm safe. Right?
The knots in my stomach tightened, and my palms grew clammy. Fear gripped me as I envisioned the danger lurking beyond those thin walls. The images of my children's smiling faces flashed before my eyes.
As I strained to catch any sound or movement from outside, the room seemed to close in on me, the air growing heavy with uncertainty. I wrapped my arms around myself, seeking solace in the desperate hope that my children would be shielded from harm. Time stood still, suspended in a limbo of fear and anticipation.
Then it was silent.
The gunshots, the yelling, the glass breaking all ceased to exist. I got up slowly, and quietly, and decided I'd tiptoe my way to the bathroom.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, urging me to remain as silent as possible. My heart pounded in my chest, its rhythm matching the chaotic symphony of fear and desperation that filled my mind. I clutched a trembling hand over my mouth, willing myself to stifle any sound that might give away my presence.
My mind raced, searching for a plan, a way to ensure my safety.
And then the door had been kicked open with a violent force, and the intruder's heavy footsteps reverberated throughout the room.
Run.
But where?
Anywhere.
I raced to the bathroom as I heard his heavy footsteps behind me.
"Where are you trying to run to?" he asked angrily as I attempted to shut the bathroom door. He pushes against it with force, knocking me back and making me hit my head on the sink as I fell.
I-, no.
There's no time to comprehend, get up and go.
"You sneaky, conniving, little bitch! Did you think that you would really be able to get away with messing with my family?" the man screamed as he got closer, ripping me away from the window by my arm that I desperately tried to climb out of.
How? Fuck, my head.
"You fucked around, and now you're gonna fucking find out you mother fu-," he continued but stopped as he looked at me
I sat in front of the bathroom sink, my hands shaking as I desperately tried to regain my composure. The world seemed to spin around me, blurring into a chaotic whirlwind of colors and sounds. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, a bitter reminder of the injury I had sustained. Nausea churned in the pit of my stomach, threatening to overtake me with its relentless grip.
With each passing second, my strength waned, and a heavy fog descended upon my thoughts. I struggled to keep my eyes open, blinking away the encroaching darkness that encased my peripheral vision. Time seemed to stretch and contract, the world fading in and out of focus as if playing a cruel game with my senses.
Was he talking to me?
My breaths grew shallow and ragged, as if they were carried through a dense atmosphere. A wave of lightheadedness washed over me, my limbs growing heavy and unresponsive. It was as if I were drifting further away from consciousness, an ethereal detachment that threatened to consume me entirely.
My kids.
The bathroom walls closed in on me, their presence suffocating as I teetered on the precipice of surrender. Fear mingled with resignation, an unsettling combination that danced within my thoughts. In this vulnerable state, I grappled with the uncertainty of what lay ahead.
What is he saying?
As my eyelids grew heavy, I fought against the encroaching stillness, clinging to the flickering embers of consciousness. With the last ounce of energy left within me, I whispered into the void that enveloped me.
A plea?
A statement?
A cry?
A realization?
"Alex..."
***
A/N:
Surprise?

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Mine | Yours
RomanceThis is Book 1 and 2 of the "Ours" Series *** Book 1: Mine Scarlett Johnson. Alexander Randazza. Two polar opposites whose worlds collide. Whether that's for better or worse is up the them to decide. As their lives intertwined, Scarlett is pulled...