HARDAWAY | trilogy

V3 - Chapter Eleven.

𝐑𝐇𝐘𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒

               Barefooted, I stood on the beige porcelain tile of the walk-in shower with the handheld shower head releasing thousands of steamy water-drops pours down my body. My mind was in shreds; I would never get that picture out of my head. My eyes fell closed over and over, each time showing me the bloody images like my eyelids were capturing photographs. The blood splattering onto the yellow walls and blood his brain stored, oozing profusely onto the creme colored covers. I could still feel the steel of gun in my hand and the amount of pressure it took for my forefinger to pull the trigger and end a life.

That day haunted me; still haunts me.

I'm a murderer. I took someone's life rather innocent or guilty.

I — I killed someone.

I blinked just as the sound of the silenced gunshot rang throughout my ears. A knock hitting on the bathroom resulted in me to jump hardly.

"Ma'am?" A feminine voice asked from other side of the door.

"Yeah?"

The door opens, the glass was foggy preventing her from seeing my nude body as she stood near the door. "Ma'am, Mr. Summers sent me up here to get you. Breakfast is finished."

"Coming out right now," I replied and the door closed shortly after.

I turned the shower handle, stopping the water-drops and took a hold of the peach colored towel, wrapping it around my body. After drying my skin free of any wetness and moisturizing every inch of five foot five height, I dressed in a white rib crop cami top and cuffed hem, high waisted denim shorts. I slid my feet in a pair of flat sandals. My hair, that's in its natural curly state, I left to flourish in the afro. I left the bedroom into the massive hallway. I descended down the two-way staircase; one leading directly to the foyer and the other straight to the kitchen.

As tempted as it was to take the way leading to the front door, I still footed down the way to the kitchen. Guards were on more alert since my last escape. It's no way I'm even getting pass opening the door this time around. I decide to be obedient and enter the big kitchen with wood floors, granite countertops and a large island. A chef stood near the stainless steel electric stove in uniform and laying food across four glass plates. My eyes fell on the dining room not to far away spotting Capri and two other women already occupying seats at the table, while a server poured their preferred drinks for the morning.

Specific woman, sitting right beside him in pricey silk sleepwear, just so happens to be his hidden wife, Sonti. She has light skin the color of peanut butter and a tapered platinum pixie cut; her physique thick yet curvy. She has the face of an innocent soul, she's far a pure individual. Brothel business of Capri's, she runs with him. When it's not him riling in girls, promising them a better life than the one they may have, it's Sonti.

All of the girls stuck under him and her come from the same background either alone and grew up in the foster care system. Girls that want nothing more than a warm bed to lay in and food to eat, willing to do anything for it. They rather have girls who don't come with families they have to worry about. They like them free of anything but themselves. Capri came off as the older handsome gentleman that will take care of you and he does for about two months when he feels your guard falls down. Then, he has your mind, body, and soul. And one day you're having sex with one or two men for money you never see.