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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Do you know what hell is like?" I whispered, my voice an echo that wandered around the room.
Those were Lorenzo famous bloody first words to me.
Lorenzos first words at the bottom of the stairs, right after he killed my brother; my brother who was practically holding me hostage for 20 years and was actually a serial bomber who murdered my mom, children, mothers and dozens of other family's all to spite my father who was actually the leader of the Russian mafia.
I turned my head to try to find Marco, I knew he was standing somewhere in the darkness, just watching me here on the floor. He was always just fucking watching me.
The solid fucking floor, the only thing keeping my beaten body from sinking into oblivion. The tile cool and soothing on my skin.
Do I know what hell is like Lorenzo? I think I'm beginning to.
Lorenzo do you remember when you promised you wouldn't leave me alone?
My shaky hand picked up the bottle from the ground beside me, half of it poured out, mixing with my blood. I'd pissed Satan off on our way him from his club, the reason was so stupid I couldn't help but defend myself. I barely got a word in before he slammed me into the floor.
It was a miscalculation on my part to have not anticipated this, I knew Satan's fists swing more easily when he's not sober. Not that he would be opposed to teaching me a lesson while sober.
But tonight lesson was all about my attitude from earlier. Satan had said, in between kicks to my ribs, that if I didn't learn to accept my place here he'd tie me up outside like a dog so I'd be forced to finally understand.
But that was hours ago and silence fell around me now, the empty hall, and I felt anger grow in me the longer Marco didn't show his face. I did want to talk to him, to demand to know why after 25 years he'd given up on his best friend, even though I knew that an un-supervised conversation with me would give him a quick death.
Satan wasn't stupid, the only reason he let Marco live was to torment me with Lorenzo's killers face, and despite his want to make me suffer for the rest of my life by looking at the man who murdered Lorenzo, Satan is not completely stupid and wouldn't be easily fooled.
Satan does not trust Marco.
I pushed myself up into a seating position with a groan of pain, watching the blood from the cuts in my mouth and my bloody nose spill onto the beautiful marble tile. Fuck, there was a lot of blood, and a lot of pain.
What a pity, I'm spoiling the marble with my blood.
Taking a sip of the scotch It set fire to my throat, yet I couldn't stop. I can never stop. It will never stop. I want to drown myself in it.