Serina Accardi had everything, and wanted for nothing. Her brother gave her whatever she desired, but kept the parts of her destined world out of her reach.
Until she lost everything in one night to a man who's eyes looks like the devils wrath.
Th...
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Kye ^ We hate him
Serina POV
It hurt to fucking breath, some skinny dicked motherfucker wrapped a roped around my chest so tight that It hurt to expand my chest. They tore away my shirt, so I was bare from the waist up.
I was trembling and I hadn't stopped since we got here god knows how long ago, it felt like weeks but I knew it can't be more then a few days. One week at most.
My hands bound together behind me as I sat slumped in a metal chair, the tightness of the ropes caused blood to pour from my raw wrists which were now crusted and bruised.
My ankles stuck to the chairs legs with duck tape, that made my skin itchy and red.
Tears welding in my eyes like acid, I hated crying but It was the only thing I knew I could do right now.
If this wasn't rock bottom then I didn't know what the fuck was.
After I hit my head on the vans door I blacked out, and woke up In shackles and binds. I screamed and yelled for them to let me go, I even foolishly called out Lorenzo's name hoping he was somewhere in the darkness.
But as I watched as strange men came out of that darkness and stood over me as they watched me squirm In my binds, their hands running over my naked skin. I lost that hope.
I had tried to kick and screamed but the restrains kept me down. They had laughed and joked before treating me like a punching bag.
Serina the punching bag doesn't have a rig to it
They were a smaller gang—found out about me from moles and spy's. They seized the opportunity to take me as soon as I ran. I regret running.
I saw the regret in Lorenzo's eyes as he walked away, but he did it to keep me alive I think.
I wonder if he is looking for me. I wasn't quite sure if he would after what happened, but a part of me prayed that he was.
I tried to remember each intricate detail of his face, but the chilling emptiness of the room was distracting.
The man who had taken me was one of five men who would come in here and hit me, each time I'd stay as quite as I could. Screams and whimpers left my lips—but words I kept down.
But being me I sometimes cursed them like a trucker which of course only made it worse for me.
My face hurt and I knew It was bruised, through the darkness of the room I knew I was bloody and cut.
