Attraction, desire, and sinfully beautiful, Mika Santana is a devil with the face of an angel. Despite her tragic past, she's never given up her ruthless pursuits for success and vengeance which leaves little to no room for matters of the heart. But...
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There's a particular plummeting dip you feel deep in the middle of your gut when you feel like your world is collapsing on you. It's that dip before you're about to give a presentation in front of thousands of people, those million pairs of eyes on you, or when you have a secret and are terrified of revealing it. The dip that feels like your stomach is ripping itself apart.
That's exactly how I feel.
My arms ache strained from the awkward position I'd been in for three days. Or is it four? It's hard to tell when I keep slipping in and out of consciousness. My stomach screams in agony, hungry for something, even if it's just a cracker. It reminds me of when I lived on the streets, making a few dollars a week by selling narcotics. I would be so hungry all the time that I tend to forget it after a few days. It's a miracle I got my period at a reasonable time when I was malnourished.
It's probably the help of Diablo. Once we met, he never went a day without seeing me and would bring sandwiches, candies, ice cream — you name it. Diablo spoiled me. But can I really be spoiled if I had nothing at all? It's not like the food came without a price tag. It wasn't anything drastic. I'm used to fighting to survive.
But sometimes, it's exhausting, and I just want to give up.
I'm like a fucking dog, gasping for air as I open my dry mouth, sticking my tongue out as if it would do anything different. My tongue glides over my cracked lips, easing the ache for a second. Water-- I need water so badly. My head rests on the wooden foundation, unable to find the motivation to move a single muscle.
What if I give up?
What if I stop fighting?
There's nothing left for me to fight for-- I would do the world justice by dying. No one would disagree. I am just a monster. Maybe in my next life, I'll resurrect as an ordinary girl with no vices and virtues to fight. My body curls up in a ball, chafing my ass because of the rough floors. How humiliating to be chained, naked, and hungry to the bedpost.
Suddenly, the door creaks open, shining the bright hallway light into the room, blinding me. I cover my eyes, clutching onto the foundation. Footsteps pound closer and closer, halting and squatting as I feel their warm breath on my skin.
"Wakey, Wakey." His sinister voice causes a shiver to roll down my spine. "Mika? You can't be dead. That would ruin all the fun." He seizes my chin, forcing me up to meet his brown, bizarre irises, and mocks a pout. "Good. You're still there."
Gathering all fuel I have left, I force my chin out of his grasp and stare at the floor. A fucking disgrace to this earth. I don't want to be anywhere near him. He can have everything because I'm tired of fighting for everyone.
"Don't be so bitter, baby." A sadistic laugh rips from his throat. "You didn't think you could actually beat me? Did you really think I spent years plotting the Morterero's familia downfall for a stupid bitch to get in my way? You didn't have a chance, Princesa."
