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

Chapter 40

Hallo my darlings,

Just a lil spoiler, I have Nana's POV, maybe it's unnecessary, and I'll probably do away with it when I'm editing, but for now, enjoy.

For love to eliminate pain is to waste it, for it is love alone that possesses​ sufficient force to bend pain against everything that would break us

~Craig D. Lousbrough~

Sophie

*Unedited*

Sharp pain in my stomach woke me up, too painful I thought I was dying. I couldn't move; each time I tried, pain shot through my whole body, paralyzing me on the spot, so I stopped trying.

I laid flat on my back, caressing my stomach in the hope that the pain would stop, but that was as futile as thinking wishing alone solved anything.

I decided to call nana, whose bedroom was on the first floor because of her arthritis, while mine was upstairs.

My voice sounded weak and scratchy, like I had run a mile without water, but I still hoped she could hear me.
"Nana," I called again, but there was no response.

"Oh my god, nana," I breathed, heaving heavily. I could feel some discharge between my legs like I was consciously wetting the bed, except I wasn't.

It was dark, probably some minutes to two in the morning, I didn't have my phone with me, I had developed a bad habit of leaving it on top of the dining table because I didn't want to be tempted into texting Raphael or even worse, calling him. So this was a very bad night to have reinforced that losing battle tonight.

Oh God, please don't let me die.

I felt tears uncontrollably sliding at the corner of my eyes.

My window was opened, the curtain rustled, bringing a soft, soothing breeze, but my pain persisted.

I didn't know what was happening; I just knew if I didn't get help soon, I would either die or faint from the crippling pain.

I tried to call my grandmother one more time, this time, I tried to shout, but my voice was more like a wheeze.

Sitting up on the bed was difficult; lifting my upper body felt like someone was trying to split my body in half. Eventually, I managed to sit up, putting my feet on the floor one at a time.

Supporting myself by holding onto anything and everything in my room that stood in my vicinity as I walked, albeit slowly, towards the door. My hands were my eyes, I had forgotten to switch the lights on, and I had also forgotten to carry my lamp from Raphael's house.

Oh, Raphael. I thought.

I'm gonna die today without seeing you one more time.

Tell you I still love you regardless of who you are.

I wondered, with the little strength I had, whether he missed me as much as I missed him. Whether he also stared at my contact the same way I stared at his. Does he have a photo of me like I have his?