The whole underground world knows of the infamously lost mafia princess Ariana Romano, the only girl born into the most ruthless and coldest mafia family the world has ever seen, who at four years old kidnapped by her own mother. The day where the R...
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"I need to ask you something and I want you to be honest, okay?" Elijah asked gently as he sat next to me on the bed. I was propped up, my head resting on the wall. "You can just nod or shake your head."
It's been a few days since my accident and I was completely recovered. After two days of sleeping, I woke up slightly dizzy but I wasn't cold anymore. Elijah informed me that I was burning with fever during the time I was asleep.
A small nod from me encouraged him to continue.
"Two days ago...can you explain what exactly happened?"
I think I just stopped breathing. My tongue became heavy. What should I say to that? He wasn't demanding answers and I did not want to talk about it all. How do you tell someone you want to die?
"Was it an accident?" He sounded hopeful. "Or..." He added with a grimace as if he was hoping it was an accident.
I did the only thing that seemed reasonable, I lifted my shoulders and allowed them to go limp. "I don't remember," I said. It was the half-truth. I didn't even remember half of it.
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
I blinked, not offering him any reaction. What else is there to be explained?
He felt I was withholding again so he changed the topic, letting it go. "What about you take a bath, hmm?"
Is it his way to tell me that I smell?
I resisted the urge to sniff my armpits to check my hygiene. It was a strange thing to worry about. A little more than a month ago, my hygiene was the last thing I thought about.
I nodded and Elijah went to fetch my usual maid.
When the maid arrived without Elijah, she led me into the bathroom. It was dim, though it was slightly more bright than the last time. The lights were off. The main light source was coming from the electric candles, placed in many different places. I was extremely grateful for the electric candles for two reasons: there wasn't any bright light coming from them and I didn't have good experiences when it came to fire.
The maid settled me in front of a mirror and made sure I had my hands securely on the marble countertop to support myself up before going to fill the bathtub.
I risked looking at the mirror after weeks of avoiding my reflection.
I started at the girl in front of me. Her cheekbones were sunken in and the bones were jutting out, dark circles underneath her dead green eyes, and her skin was burned, cut, and peeled off. The last time I saw this girl, her wide eyes were sparkling, slightly chubby cheeks, and her skin was smooth to the touch.
