Why I Am Where I Am

Why I Am Where I Am

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Jun 11, 2014
"Zach?" I whispered, cautiously easing my way into the darkened room. "Are you awake?" I used my hands to feel up the wall, searching for the light switch. I found it, and flicked it up, but the light didn't turn on. Weird. I thought to myself. I wondered if the electricity went out. "Zachary?" I called again, no longer trying to be quiet. I needed him to sign our mother's birthday card, which he had refused to do the night before, so now I had to wake him up in the early hours of the morning to sign the blasted thing. When he didn't answer again I became irritated. I was four o'clock in the morning, and I just wanted to go back to sleep. I threw up my hands in defeat, not giving a fuck anymore. For all I cared, he could just not sign it. Then suddenly, the lights flickered on. I sighed in relief and spun around back towards my brother's room. I sighed in relief as I spun around to go back in my brother's room. Now that the light was turned back on, I could- My plans were cut off when one thought overwhelmed my brain: God that was a lot of red paint.
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**𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐳** Panic surges through me, and before I know it, I'm turning on my heel, trying to run, to escape the impending punishment. I barely make it a few steps before I feel his hand clamp down on my hair, yanking me back with terrifying force. "Going somewhere, little girl?" "P-please let g- ahh! Please! H-Hurts me!" "Afraid, are we now, baby?" His voice is a snarl now, filled with fury. "L-leave m-me," tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I'm scared of him, scared of what he'll do to my friend, scared of what he'll do to me. His grip on my hair tightens and I wince, choking back a sob. "Oh, why? Don't you like my hands on you, baby?" He mocks hurt that instantly turns back into anger. "But you were fine when that fucker touched you, ain't that right?" Then he pulls a silver knife out of his suit, twirling it lazily between his ink-covered knuckles and my blood freezes at the sight of that psychotic grin. ***** People quaked with fear at the sound of his name and me along with them. He was Demetrios 'the God' Nikolayev and he was first in command of Russian mafia. He was a true psychopath who enjoyed hurting people, and I hated him for that. The worst thing - he owned me. "Try to accept the darkness, because from now on, it will be your only light." I tried so hard, but I couldn't understand it back then. How possibly can darkness be light? ***** This is not a vanilla romance but a dark, toxic, perverted, obsessive story. The book contains mature themes such as foul language, bdsm, sexual and abusive content, kinks, blood, manipulation, etc. Please keep that in mind.

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