Page 27 of Silent Tears

SLAP!

He releases his hold on me, lifts his hand, and grabs my wrist mid-air.

“You are Bellissimo,”he says with so much confidence my heart stops, but his eyes stay on me.

“Liar. LIAR!” I scream as I rip my wrist from his hand and push on his chest as hard as I can. We both take a step back as I drop to my knees. I rock back and forth, wrapping my arms tightly around myself as the tears fall. Christian kneels in front of me, lifts his hand, and places his fingertips underneath my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“Ho bisogno di te,”he replies calmly.

What the fuck does he see when he looks at me?

I don’t see it.

I don’t fucking see it.

I open my mouth, letting out another scream, as my eyes stay on him, their voices getting louder and louder, validating what I already know about myself.

You dirty Bitch.

You fucking Whore.

You’re my little Slut.

My Puppet.

You are Broken.

26

Christian

Igrab tightly onto her arms, forcing her to stand, and move into her, forcing her to take steps back and fall onto the couch. Her breathing is rapid and unstable as I lean in and kiss her forehead. She rests her bloody hands on her knees as I stand up straight and look at her as she stares forward. I know her memories and the voices in her head are starting to take her from me once again. I step back and slowly walk around the couch and into the kitchen to grab the items I need to clean her up.

I take a deep, shaky breath as my memory of when I was marked comes crashing into my head, taking my breath away. Her situation and mine are entirely different, yet the ending trauma response is exactly the same.

16 Years Ago

I am chained to the cold concrete floor, and my knees shake as I stare down at the blood stains from whoever was in here before me. My knees feel like they are frozen inside my pants. I take a deep breath as I prepare myself for what will happen.

I can hear footsteps coming up behind me. I know it is my Padre; I would know his steps anywhere. After all, he has been the one training me to enforce, and part of that is knowing who is coming. So far, he has taught me well.

“You’re soft, Figlio,” my Padre whispers.

He is right; I am soft, I have a heart, I have emotions, and I care way too fucking much, which for someone like me is a very dangerous mix, especially in our world. I need to be heartless, cruel, and distant. It is the only way I will survive this life and be able to take over for my Padre when it is time.

“Padre,” I reply softly. There is nothing more to say right now. He is right, and I know it. He knows it, and it is time to change it.

“You are way too fucking soft. It is time we replace the softness, Figlio,” he replies in a cold, distant voice, the same cold and distant voice I will learn how to use.

“With what?” I ask.

“Power, control, and violence are the three main things you will need when this kingdom becomes yours. You want the kingdom, don’t you, Figlio?” He confidently states.

“Yes, Padre”

“Good, that is my good mostro,” he replies proudly, making my heart race. He wants a monster, then I will give him a fucking monster.

His name for me makes my heart stop, but that is what I am–a mostro, I need to be.

---