Fire And Ice (Lost&Found Series)✔

10. INSIDE XENIA'S MIND

INSIDE HER COMPLEX MIND! ;)

HAPPY READING! ❤

XENIA'S POV:

Xenia. A Greek name. My family was half Italian, half English. However, my step-grandmother was from Greek origin, hence my name. I was really attached to her but Cancer took her life three years ago. It was really hard for my mother given Grandma brought her up because her birth mother died when she was only three and a half years old. I guess death and my family has some special kind of connection. Six months, fucking six months I spent being beaten, whipped, kicked, stabbed and what not. It was tormenting. I was robbed off my clothes the very first day and chained to the wall, stark naked. No I wasn't raped but it was much worse. They called me names, asked me to count the number of whips they, oh so generously, embellished my body with and spanked me with paddles. Don't speak, don't answer back, don't ask questions. I was not even allowed to fall unconscious after the continuous beating i received everyday. My waist had bruises, my breasts had disgusting biting marks even my vagina ached due to the five harsh slaps that landed on it without any reason. I was treated substandardly. Life ended for me the moment I woke up and realized that my family was murdered in cold-blood and I wasn't even there to see them one last time, to say goodbye. I felt immensely unclean, filthy even. The hope to be rescued was as dark as life is for a blind person. I wanted to end this suffering people called life. The scars that accessorize my body shows that I have lived a life, a life different than others. They show that I'm a survivor. When I came back to Florence, I felt empty. I saw the mansion. Empty. I met Angelina and Mariano. Empty. I saw little Anna and Leo. Empty. Hell, I met Xander's eyes and felt nothing. The intensity of his eyes threatened my feelings to resurface. But the only time they actually did was when I felt his lips against mine. The heat that spread like electricity through my bare flesh by his mere touch, made me feel alive, igniting sparks and erupting butterflies in my stomach. I have read enough YA novels to understand the reasons behind these foreign feelings that, not so subtly, crossed the threshold of my sanity making my grip on him tighten even more as if he was the borderline, another step forward and I will go insane. I loved teasing him, infuriating him, riling him up. I loved how he threw mini temper tantrums, just like me. Our roles are reversed now, you could easily spot longing in his eyes, in his actions just like I used to long for him when our families lived together. All those things I did to get his attention off the other girls so that he'd finally notice me, all in vain. The emotions he poured in the kiss overwhelmed me to no bounds. The way he caressed my cheeks as if I am the most delicate thing in this totality. He held me like no one else did, he picked up all my broken pieces and glued them together with a hug. I knew I loved him the moment I trusted him enough to let him stay and see the vulnerability I was now made of and collapsed in his arms. He's my light at the other end of the tunnel, too bad I am deep in the abyss of dark.