Your Call | Call The Series Book #1

Chapter Three

I sobbed harder, "ow," I cried. Choking on my sobs, the next slap turned my face to the side. Both sides sting, gripping my shirt, trying to catch my breath. "Papa! Please! Tell him to stop!" I shout, begging my father to fold. To no avail, it continued until he made me shut up.

"Stand her up," my father said, ignoring all the pleading I had just done. My ponytail was being pulled upwards, causing me to stand.

Feeling my back going forward. The guard shoved me towards my father. His sadistic eyes meet mine. Handing me something cool, I looked down, staring at the metal.

"What –" Before I could speak, the next slap rang out.

"You are not to speak unless spoken to, do you understand?!" His voice sounded harsher and colder by the second. My cheek felt like it would fall off at any moment. He hadn't given two shits since I entered the room.

I nodded. He grabbed my hands, aiming them higher than his chest. He showed me how to use it, pointing it at the man's head. "Pull the trigger, Mariana." He said, but I didn't bother to budge.

"Pull the fucking trigger Mariana". His voice drowned everyone else near me. I refused to look up at my father. He grabs a hold of the gun once more. He places my index finger on the trigger.

I felt the cold trigger hit my finger. I stared at the man, feeling my father's index finger overlap mine. The loud sound is booming the gun firing. I stared at the man, watching his body slump forward.

Blood pooling around his body, I trembled. Tears sparking my eyes once more. I dropped the gun, panicking, my heart feeling like at any moment it would explode. I eerily watched my hands, full of blood and dirt.

I spun around, pointing the gun at my father. Staring him dead in the eye. The gun trembled in my hands. He looks at me, scoffing; he clicks his tongue, smiling. "Ooh, I don't know if you want to do that, Mariana". I could wash his mouth out with hot sauce. I hated when he called me that.

I felt a cold barrel hovering behind my head. "Stand down; I wanna see what Miss. Brave Mariana can do." I heard the guns fall, but I kept my ground. "You're a bad guy, Papa". My words barely even scratched the surface.

His hand crossed over his heart. "Am I? I haven't shown you how bad Papa can be." He used himself in the third person. His blue eyes peered into mine. "I haven't shown you how bad I can be," I responded, still finicky and holding all of my fear back.

"Oh, really? Tell me, Mariana. How bad can you be?" he asks, slowly stepping closer to my gun. He leans down his forehead, touching the end of the barrel. "Show me," he whispers, his right hand stroking the cheek he had recently slapped.

"Show me, Mariana," he whispers again. "Fucking show me!" He screams, followed by a sinister laugh. His head tilting back, nothing angered me more than him in this world.

Kill him, Mariana; I let my finger hit the safety off. I pointed at him, my eyes focusing on the end of the barrel.

"You could never fucking hurt me. I fucking feed – fuck!" He screams out in pain, the bullet grazing right through his shoulder. I struck a nerve, quite literally. "You son of a bitch", He lunges at me, I fall straight to the ground. My head rattled off the concrete. He stands over me, blood pouring on my outfit.

"I don't lie," I spoke, feeling everything around me slowly feel quiet and drowned out. He grabbed a hold of the shirt I was wearing. Balling the cloth into a fist, he brings me close to him. The injured arm swung at my jaw. My head turning to the side – I spat out a large amount of blood and a tooth.

When we lost our first tooth, we were guaranteed money from the tooth fairy. We placed it under our pillows and prayed for the five dollars. Instead, mine was beating my first tooth out of me.

"Pull that shit again, Mariana, I will kill you myself. Don't you fucking dare ever speak to me like that? Speak unless spoken to. I run this fucking place, do you hear me?!" He spoke, getting in my face before letting go of my shirt.

"Take her to the room." within seconds, I was scooped up into a guard's arms. He watched me struggle. I couldn't keep my consciousness, stars clouding my vision. "I'm sorry, please," I whisper, my arm reaching for him. Before watching everything around me turn dark, I was thrown into that filthy room.

Hours or even days later, the door opens. His arm was bandaged and cleaned. The same gun I used however many days prior. "You, little girl, need to learn when to shut your fuckin mouth." He coldly muttered before I could even say anything.

"I'll fucking kill you if you dare to even speak a word to me or pull that again." That was all it took. The bullet entered my leg – and my body slumped to the side. A scream pushed out of me.

I shot up in bed, clutching my chest, trying to catch whatever remained of my breath. The nightmare was engraving itself in my head. I shook my head, turning towards the alarm clock. At 4:56 A.M., I groaned, getting out of bed and fishing for anything that wasn't formal.

Changing rather quickly, I stared in the mirror, my curly hair thrown messily into an updo. I didn't have enough time or energy to deal with it. Especially this early in the morning. I slipped on my hiking shoes.

Heading down the many flights of stairs. Even the creepy basement ones.

Thankfully, the entire workout room was to myself. I observed each object carefully, more than the last. I walked over to the computer, typed in the usual password, and put in the first sensual song I knew.

The loud music was booming through the speakers. Filling the room, the soft and sensual bumps were getting me in the mood. I slowly made my way over the pole, hiking up my biker shorts. I swayed my hips to the beat, feeling the groove take me over.

Wrapping one hand around the pole. Hooking my right leg, getting almost a running start before I lift my left leg. Swinging around in the air, I held my left arm out, feeling the air as I continued to spin.

I closed my eyes, feeling the euphoria fill me up. A smirk filled my face, a dangerous thought eating at me slowly. I climbed my way up the pole, hearing the chorus roam through my mind.

My right leg was secured around the pole, and my left leg loosely held itself around the metal. I hung sideways, my left hand hanging out. Without a second thought, I let my right leg go, and I began to free fall. I looked at how far down I was before using my hand and left leg to stop me.

My face is nearing inches from the concrete. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins. "Fuck", I whisper, feeling my heart pound. I unhook my leg, standing up and hearing the song end.

I huff out a loud breath, feeling excited and adventurous. Everything began to change once I stared at myself in the mirror, looking at the scars on my chest and abdomen. I run my fingers through the long one.

Scoffing, the feelings of nostalgia hit me. The many shared fights, or the secretly shared swaps between a blade. The moment I paused, suddenly, something wrapped around my waist. My upper body tensed. My body whipped around, prepared to fight whoever was behind me out of sheer instinct.

Feeling at least a bit sorry for whoever was behind me.