Underneath
- Reads 16
- Votes 3
- Parts 1
Ongoing<5 mins
Last published Sun, Nov 21, 2021
I couldn't see clearly after I got drugged and thrown into a black van...my eye's coverd up,and my hands tied behind my back,my feet held down by a man...
I only heard two voices in the van,both of them where men,and that scared the living shit out of me,the thought of being drugged and dragged into a van,gave me unimaginable thoughts, the thoughts of being raped,sold to someone or even killed...
The van suddenly stopped,when one of the men started yelling "Fuck they found us,get the girl!"I could here men screaming at the van from outside, telling them to give them what they whant,I assumed it was money but then I heard my name in the sentence "Give us Emily or we will start killing"...
I could here the two men arguing about me and what to do,the men decided to abandon me and the van and chose life over death,I could here them opening the doors of the van and running for dear life...moments later I heard a pair of footsteps coming my why,a man's voice?,the voice of my hero?....
6 month's has passed since my kidnapping,the men that took me and the men who bravely saved me haven't been found...yet!! I made it my mission to find them and ask the question I most desired "Why me"...
what I found wasn't something that I could ever imagine,I could only describe it in a word "Mafia"...and that I never knew what the future would hold,or what I would be getting myself into...
Written by Christel with a E
All Rights Reserved
#72
mafiahusband
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Let me tell you my story, the one about how I died. Don't worry, though. I came back. They say when someone shares their story, they're sharing their burden. Seeking someone to help carry the weight that bends their shoulders, hoping their troubles will float away like helium balloons into the endless sky. Your silence becomes their sanctuary, a vacuum they fill with dust-covered memories. If you speak, do it gently - a nod, a smile, the ghost of a touch on their shoulder. But my story? It's different. It carved its path because trust becomes a luxury I could no longer afford. How could it not, when the one person who swore to never betray me did exactly that? The one who promised never to hurt me, broke me. The one who vowed to stay, walked away. So tell me, why trust anyone else when the person I trusted the most killed me in every way but physical? Until they managed that too. They say the most dangerous predators are the ones who look like prey. I learned this truth through split knuckles and shattered promises, through blood on my tongue and threats whispered against skin. Through playing weak while gathering my strength in darkness. Now I watch him, this self-proclaimed hunter in his own game. He doesn't see he's just another piece being moved across someone else's board. The mafia's golden prince, they whisper. If only they knew what lurks beneath that polished veneer. What dances behind those eyes that mirror the shadows I know so well. But shadows? They're born from fire. And somewhere out there, someone's striking matches, leaving black roses on cooling ashes, drawing closer with every corpse that falls. They call him Pyro. And when that name drops in a room. Well, let's just say I'm not the only one with secrets worth killing for. Some demons wear designer suits. Some victims wear crowns. And some fires are worth burning for. Welcome to the game. Trust no one. Not even me.
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