Lucia and Maeve are twins.
Maeve is the innocent one- her eyes yet to see the darkness of the cruel world. A happy go lucky girl, who loves everyone. Though very hardworking and dependable.
But not everyone can be as innocent as her.
Then there's L...
Yes you! You are god damn beautiful. Thankyou for existing angel.
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Blinking myself out of the memories I unconciously traced the light scar on my stomach, a horrible reminder that was left due to the infection.
I shuddered at the thought of the memories of the beating that I got when I reached that dreadful place I used to call home late.
It was one of the worst beating that I have had ever recieved.
My so called mother had drugged Maeve unconcious and binded her on a chair in the basement while she sat on the chair next to her and watched as her husband beat my already aching bruised body for hours.
I was forced to swallow each and every whimper and cry of pain for the sake of my sister.
They knew I was very much capable of holding my own fight, so they used to use Maeve to blackmail me.
It was a near death experience.
My unconcious body was left locked in the cold dark pest infested basement for five days without food, water or first aid.
There wans't even a rag of cloth to keep myself warm and my battered clothes soaked in blood where of no use against the cold.
I flinched as a warm hand cupped my cheek, I looked up and saw Emilio looking at me in concern.
He must have entered the room while I was lost in thoughts.
"Are you alright bambina, you look pale?" Emilio asked, his brows furrowing in concern.
Breathing shakily I meekly nodded my head before looking back towards Luciano, who was looking at me in concern.
"It's all good for now, if there's anything i'll discuss with you in the future. You can go" He paused.
"And oh yes, tomorrow you both are going to go with Emilio and blake to shop things for your room, school and clothes in general or anything else you need"
Nodding in response I quickly left the office and climbed up the stairs towards my room. Entering the room I locked the door with my shaky hands.
Dropping myself at the floor I sat against the door and bought my knees to my chest, and finally allowed the tears to escape.
I cried silently remembring how cruel life was to me, to an innocent child.
As a nine year old child I always used to question why my mother wasn't stopping the bad man from hurting me.
I used to hope that one day she'll cry and say sorry for everything, that she'll help me patch my wounds and keep me safe.
But as I grew older I realised that she enjoyed the torment that I was facing.That my screams of pain were music to her ears, I was nothing but a source of entertainment for her, my pleas of mercy gave her twisted amusement.
