Bred In Violence (A Mafia Romance Book One) #𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟏

Chapter 13

                              Sophie

I laid down in pain. I could feel blood oozing from my temple to the side of my mouth. I felt dirty, tired, and worn out. I think he broke my limbs this time. I tried to turn, but I couldn't. I felt pain everywhere; my feet were stuck on something because I couldn't move them.

I needed to get to the phone and call 911. I tried, I really did, but I could not get to it. Maybe he had hidden it just like he had the last time.

Crawling slowly, I reached the phone stand. Just as I lifted my hand, I felt something heavy hit my hand. I squealed in pain, and he laughed; he laughed until I started crying. I had vowed never to let him see me cry again, but I could not hold my tears. My own father got off on my pain; he laughed because I was helpless, weak, and alone, which seemed to give him power.

How could such a cruel man be my father? I wondered.

And what kind of a mother left her child with this kind of a monster?

"What the fuck do you want to do with the phone, Soph" he mocked me. "Call the cops on your daddy?"

"I told you never talk to anybody, Soph, didn't I?"

I didn't answer

"Didn't I?" He repeated, hitting me with his feet.

"Yes, you did!" I shouted as I felt another kick on my shoulders.

"You see? It's your fault! I couldn't have done this to you if you hadn't disobeyed me and talked to that hag. Do you understand why it's your fault?"

"Yes, I do!" I answered. My voice sounding weak.

"And do you understand why it's your fault that I had to punish you?...Well, do you?". His voice was loud and terrifying.

" Now shut the hell up! I can't stand all that howling."

But no matter how much I tried, I couldn't stop crying. I could feel the tears on my cheek. Then suddenly I felt him shaking and calling me. But his voice was different. He didn't sound like my father; he sounded concerned and almost terrified.

"Wake up, Sophie,"
"Damn it, Sophie, wake up!" He sounded miserable. But not angry, he wouldn't hurt me, I didn't know how I knew that, but I did.

I refused to open my eyes. I preferred the unknown to what awaited me. I had stopped crying, but I could still feel the tears dripping in the corner of my eyes.

"God, please don't do this to me. Not again!" It was Raphael.

"Raphael"

"Yes, Cara, I'm here. You had a bad dream," he whispered.

He was leaning over me. His hands between my head. He looked so handsome, hard, and unforgiving.

"Tell me who hurt you?" It was a command. I could have been afraid and probably told the whole of my traumatic childhood, but I shook my head. There was no way I was telling him my darkest secrets.

"I will find out...I always find out, cara," he mumbled. But I doubted even he could guess my father was responsible for my nightmares.

He stared at me, and I stared right back at him.

"You have freckles," I whispered, lifting my right hand to touch his face.

"Do I?" His voice was husky. He turned his face slightly towards my hand, noting the taut set of his bold bronzed profile. His jaw was set granite-hard, but his eyes turned soft. He leaned closer, hesitating for a second; I knew he was giving me a chance to avoid his kiss. I had never been in such a position with a man before; it was fascinating. I felt safe and protected by his strength.

He kissed me, and my heart seemed to come to a sudden halt inside my chest; he took my breath with a kiss of such unashamed passion that I almost felt like I was drunk or drugged.

My body relaxed slowly, and my hands came up to his head, stroking the coarse of his hair, the cropped locks that dwindled to a point at the nape of his neck.

"Cara, he said gruffly. " I have to stop while I can; I don't trust myself with you any longer."

I was stunned; I wanted him to continue kissing me. He made me forget my nightmares. The memories flashed in my mind.

"No, don't!..did I do something wrong?" I asked tentatively. I wanted to know why he stopped. I heard it on right authority that men didn't stop this kind of thing of their own volition. So it must be me. I thought.

"No! You were perfect, cara, but I will not take advantage of this situation... You just had a bad dream." He started to move off of me, but I stopped him. I tightly held on to his neck, laying my cheek on his. I could feel his breath on me; he will not succumb to me.

"Trust me; you'll understand tomorrow when your mind is not muddled up by bad dreams." Bending over me, he brushed kisses on my chin, cheek, and my closed eyelids.

"You're not ready, but when you're ready, no force on earth will be enough to stop me."

I kept my eyes closed as I listened to the swishing of his clothes as he dressed. I had known Raphael for such a short time to know I wasn't going to change his mind no matter what I said, so I said nothing.

"I will see you in the morning," he murmured, and then he was going leaving me disheveled and longing. Maybe he was right; I might have ended up hating both of us.

I couldn't go back to sleep; I sat up in bed and started looking around. I was under black beddings. The duvet was black; the sheets were black but with some flowery pattern. This is just so morose it was depressing. I thought.

Raphael had left the room. I knew because I heard him bang the door so loudly I wondered whether the hinges were still intact or he had broken it.

I laid back on the bed under the duvet, my hair coiling on the pillow. I felt vulnerable. Like I was exposed and my most darkest secrets on display.

I suddenly started feeling cold. I was so warm when Raphael was with me; now, I felt like I could start shaking any time soon.

My eyes fell on the bedside clock.
Damn! It was 3 am.
I really needed to sleep. I figured Raphael had gone to sleep in the guest room. That was my last thought as I fell asleep.