Prologue
Three months.
That's how long they've been keeping me down there. Three fucking months. It's been three fucking months since we succumbed to the attacks of Italians.
N'drangheta found its way through our rows, putting a rat, traitor Piece of shit. A worm. However you wanna call him.
First week of merciless attacks I spent with my mother, locked in our hidden walk in closet that she had secretly installed simply because my father thought that it was a stupid waste of money, unneccessary expense.
But if he knew how mother's passion for clothes spared us a week of suffering He would have been thankful. Grateful even that they didn't make us watch horriffic scenes, rapes, tortures of our loved ones
They killed dad first.
We heard his grunts and curses that were silenced and unhearable because of our own choking sobs that somehow found way to come out of clogged throats.
My soul shattered and left my body while dad was taking his last breaths. I couldn't live without him, not without my papochka. The man who resembled the gratitude and column of our family My mother, Daria couldn't live without him too...
But we would have managed somehow
If we weren't found.
If they hadn't killed brat.
After one week of search, one of the Calabrians accidentally broke in while he tried to rape our loyal servants.
I will never forget mother's face when that asshat barged in with his fat, infected cock that reeked from miles, swaying freely out of his boxer briefs that were loose on his ankles.
She was prepared.
She knew.
But they didn't want her.
They wanted me.
No matter how many times she offered herself naked, eager-spread ready to fuck They would always refuse.
At first, I was surprised. Nauseatingly surprised that she was willing to have sex with men who killed our father not even a week ago. But braveness hid behind my mother's unique and astonishing facade.
She wasn't thirsty for sex.
Hungry for Italian bastards? No.
She was only trying to find a solution in the miserable dark that suffocated and strangled our minds, souls and hearts. Mother was deeply sorry for betraying father's love.
But not in a single way sorry for protecting her remaining daughter that was a teenager.
A twelve year-old.
At first they kept us up there, until one day a whole pack of Italians came upstairs, thirsty for blood.
Virginal blood.
"Prendila!" The leader screamed, his forefinger pointing at my scrawny-self who hid behind mother's coats and father's suits.
"Calmati, capo, preferiamo portare nostra madre. Ha un seno più grande. Questa piccola ha il seno come se fosse stata morsa dalle zanzare!" They all broke into synchronized laughter that caused an eruption of goosebumps all over my body.
I shivered out of fear not even ready for what it was to come.
"Danilo ama le bambine poco sviluppate. Lui è il primo della fila, e solo allora arriviamo." The voice of the leader harshly echoed through our home. Our mansion that was filled with love and memories.
Now it would only maintain hunted past and ashes of the dead.
One of the ugly men, that missed one eye and the remained one was awakening the eagerness in me to poke it out myself, grabbed harshly my forearms, leaving colorful prints that would stay carved in my skin.
In my mind forever.
"Danilo! Scopala davanti a noi! Riempila di sperma mentre la sua figa sputa sangue vergine! Lascialo ruggire come un maiale al macello. "
The man spat his dirty saliva from the potty mouth. Even though I couldn't discern a single word from him, I knew for sure that he wasn't tossing compliments for my newly cut hair.
"Puttana russa!"
YOU ARE READING
Island of Lies (18+)
Romance[COMPLETED] Overwhelmed by life and today's society, the depressed and disappointed Harmony is studying to be a fantastic doctor and to be everything her doctors were not. Although she does not follow in her father's footsteps and does not join poli...
