Sold to Moretti Mafia

ElenaText content © NôvelDrama.Org.

Huddled against the headboard, I watch as the door closes, the last sliver of his face disappearing behind the wood and the lock clicking into place. The sound is only a reminder of how trapped I am here, how I was taken from one cage, and put in another.

At least with my father, I knew where I stood. Or I least I thought I did. I knew what was going to happen each day, and I had some freedoms, not many, but not none. Now, I have nothing. No structure, no freedom, no say in anything… not even over my own body.

My life is no longer my own. I’ve been sold by my father to this evil villainous man.

“She is now yours, do with her as you please.”

My father’s words replay in my head. I can’t believe he did this, sold me to Moretti.

Tears slide down my cheeks as I stare at the door. The room is lavish, manly, and blanketed in grays and dark blues. If the circumstances were different, I might actually be able to appreciate the beauty of it.

After a few minutes of staring at the door, I move off the bed to search for some type of way out of this room.

Walking to the first door I find, I discover an entire closet filled with clothing. I look down at my partially ripped nightgown. Who knew when I put this thing on tonight that it would be the last thing I would have from my old life?

I feel exposed and vulnerable in nothing but this, so I pull it off altogether and throw it on the ground. Quickly, I grab one of the shirts off a hanger.

I’m not sure if he is going to be mad at me for taking his stuff. Will he hurt me if I do? Punish me? Deciding it is worth the risk, I pull it on over my head and let it drift down before shoving my arms through the sleeves. The shirt is more like a dress, and the hem comes to rest against my bruised knees. A shiver snakes down my spine at the size difference between us. This man could easily hurt me, snap my neck, or take whatever he wants. My lungs burn, and I realize I’m not actually breathing.

Calm down. Everything is going to be okay. You can do this, Elena.

Grabbing the collar, I bring it to my nose and inhale deeply, the smell of cotton and soap tickling my nostrils. I do this a couple more times until the burn in my lungs eases.

Walking out of the closet, I go to the next door, knowing it’s a bathroom before I even open it. It’s clean and organized, but that doesn’t make me want to stay here. No matter how lavish this place is, no matter how much he offers me, nothing will ever make me want to stay with him. Then again, who’s to say he will offer me anything. He’s paid ten million dollars for me, surely, it’s me that will have to offer him something.

I curl my hand into a fist; anger and sadness festering like a cancer deep in my gut. I have to get out of here. Going to the door that I know is my only exit, I grab the brass knob, not caring that it’s most likely a dead end. I heard the lock click into place. There might not be any escaping this room right now, but that isn’t going to stop me from trying.

Taking the chance anyway, I turn the knob and push against the wood as hard as I can. Like I assumed, the door doesn’t move, not even an inch. A sob lurches from my throat, and I place my cheek against the cold wood, hoping to maybe hear something. Not sure what I’m listening for, but the unknown surrounding me is worse than knowing what’s going to happen. If I knew, then at least I could mentally prepare myself for it.

When my legs grow heavy, I walk over to the single window in the room and sit down on the floor below it. It’s as close to escaping as I’m going to get. From here, I can still see the bedroom door, so I can watch to see when he returns. There is no way in hell I’m going to lie down in that bed like a freaking offering.

The darkness outside calls to me, and I twist around and stare up at the stars that hang high in the sky, moving to the glowing moon until my eyes start to grow heavy, and I find myself leaning against the wall, exhaustion sinking its claws into me. Drifting in and out of sleep, I find myself waking at every tiny noise.

My eyes pop open, and my back goes ramrod straight when I hear the lock on the door disengage. Blood rushes in my ears, my heart feeling as if it’s being squeezed between two hands. As soon as Julian enters the room, I push to my feet.

I don’t want to be on the floor, feeling even smaller and more vulnerable than I am. My throat seems to close up, and a deep-rooted terror explodes within me when he turns toward me, and I see the red splotches of blood on his white button shirt, hands, and neck.

I can’t be sure, but I don’t think any of the blood is his. The hungry look in his eyes steals the air from my lungs, and I wish the floor would swallow me whole.

He smirks at me. “You waited up for me? How sweet of you.”

Turning his back to me, he locks the door and stashes the key back in his pocket before heading to the nightstand and setting a bottle of water on it.

Without another word, he walks into the bathroom. He doesn’t close the door all the way, leaving it propped open a few inches. The sound of the shower fills the room, and a moment later, steam starts to come into the space.

Exhaustion weighs me down like a heavy blanket, and I slump back down to the floor. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I pull them up to my chest, wishing I could make myself small enough to disappear.

It takes a lot out of me to keep my eyes open. I’m so tired I just want to go to sleep, but I know that would be too good to be true. I highly doubt he bought me, took me from my home, and brought me to his bedroom for a good night’s sleep.

I never thought this would be how I’d lose my virginity. Arranged marriages are normal in our family, so I saw it coming. I had always been aware of the fact that I wasn’t going to have a choice in who I would marry, but I was sure that my father would choose a good man for me. Someone who wouldn’t hurt me. Someone who’d court me, who I would meet first and have dinner with, not someone who comes and tears me from my home in the middle of the night.

I didn’t expect love, but I did expect safety. I realize now how naive I’ve been.

Resting my head on my knees, I listen to the shower spray, letting it calm my nerves a little. The sound reminds me of heavy rainfall, and I happen to like the rain. I like how it feels on my skin, how it smells, and how it sounds as it pelts against the rooftop and windows.

I’m so disoriented and exhausted that I don’t realize I’ve dozed off again until I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder. My eyes fly open, and I find my captor’s large body looming over me. The smell of soap hits me, and as I trail my gaze up his body, I find that he’s naked except for a pair of boxers.

“Get on the bed,” he orders gruffly.

“No. I’d rather sleep on the floor.”

“I didn’t ask where you wanted to sleep. I said to get on the bed. I’m not asking.”

When I don’t move right away, he grunts annoyingly and leans down, ready to pick me up. As soon as his hands touch me, I lose it. I can’t let this happen without a fight. I just can’t. It’s not in me. I won’t be a victim. His hands reach for me again, and I start swinging my arms wildly, kicking out my legs, and flailing my body. I do anything I can to fight him off.

As if I’m nothing more than an annoyance to him, he grabs my upper arms and pulls me to my feet, ignoring my kicks to his legs. In two large strides, he pulls me to the bed and pushes me on the mattress.

In the next instant, he is on me. My chest heaves, terror rippling through me as his much larger body comes down on mine, trapping me against the mattress. Even with him holding himself up with one arm, he is so heavy that I can barely breathe. Placing both hands against his chest, I push with all my might, but he doesn’t move an inch.

The terror grows ten-fold, and I find myself spiraling out of control. Before I know what I’m doing, I lash out at him, sinking my nails into the side of his face, dragging my hand down, scratching across his face and neck in a frenzy.

“Fuck,” he growls, and snatches my wrists, pinning them above my head. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I’m trapped and at the mercy of this horrible man.

Blinking the tears away, I look up at his face, and my eyes go wide with shock. Multiple large scratches are marring his skin. Some of them so deep, blood pools on top of the skin.

I did that. I hurt him.

I look from the gashes and into his eyes, the pale blue is almost gone, his pupils so dilated that his eyes seem black. His whole body vibrates, and there is a distinct vein popping out on this forehead. He is angry, very, very angry. And I’m about to feel that anger.

The only thing I can do now is hope that I make it out of here alive.