Chapter 17

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*Mature Content Ahead*





"Well, well. It's been awhile, hasn't it? My little sweet-pea."

Ba-bump...

Ba-bump...

Ba-bump...

Ba-bump...

A cold silence settled between you and the sneering sadist from your past.

Your heart was still beating, despite you forgetting how to breath – and you didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

"I hope you're well rested. There's so much for us to discuss!" Doflamingo spoke with sick smile stretching across his face. "Thirteen years... Thirteen years! How you've flourished! It's a shame you went and became a lowly government pig when you're capable of so much more."

Your wound felt like it was burning again as you stiffened and willed yourself not to tremble. Somehow, though there was a lump in throat preventing you from speaking, you managed to set your face in a glare.

Doflamingo leisurely settled himself into a chair, crossing his long legs. He was still a head or two taller than you even when sitting.

"Don't tell me the cat's got your tongue, (y/n). Even as a small brat you surely would have responded by now." The edges of Doflamingo's smile began to falter.

There was a beat of silence and you took a deep, shaky, breath through your nose, wincing as the it stretched the wound under the haphazard bandaging.

"I... Have nothing... to say... to you..."

Your dry response completely wiped the smile off of Doflamingo's face. There was another beat of silence that was broken by the sound of Doflamingo's hand smacking across your face, whipping your head to the side.

"What happened to the manners I raised you with?" He snarled. "Not even a hello? Nor an apology for angering me?"

"A fucking what?!" Your head snapped up at the word 'apology' and your fear temporarily diminished, replaced with disgust and rage.

"The last thing I owe you is a fucking apology you sadistic son of a bit–"

Another slap to the face cut you off mid-insult.

You let out a shaky breath and felt a thick fluid flow past your lips as you did so. It was blood. The rusted taste of it partially coated the inside of your mouth.

A heavy silence, filled with burning ire, fell between the two of you once more for a few beats.

"Why did you even bother bringing me back alive?" You hated how small your voice had become.

"Why wouldn't a doting father want to see his daughter alive?" You could hear the sneer in his voice. "Even if it meant having to bring you back here by force and giving you a punishment or two, I still have every right to see my little sweet pea."

You felt your gut wrench with sickness as every word fell from the psychotic man's mouth. Your head ached from your inner voice screaming while your body stung from the burning fire that was your wounded stomach.

The blonde psycho leaned closer, his tongue breaking through his sneer. You flinched at his proximity, choking on your own breath and shutting your eyes as you braced for whatever strike he was going to deliver.

His large hand came to rest upon your head, ruffling your tangled tendrils. Your eyes remained shut and you shuddered slightly when a dark chuckle rumbled out from him. "Despite all the trouble you've given me, I do believe we can still make amends. After all, you are an integral part of our family."

"I'm not a chess piece you can move around as you please." You spoke through gritted teeth, shooting him a glare.

"The weak don't get to decide how they live." He pulled back and came to a stand. "Rebecca!" He called out.

A moment later, you heard the squeaking of wheels on a cart and the slight clang of metal sounding outside the door. The sounds were soon cut off by the grim creaking of the door's hinges as it was opened and a young woman, who couldn't be older than a teen, stepped into the room.

"You called, Young Master?" Her voice was almost as dull as her brown, down-casted gaze. Her pink hair stood out strikingly against her pale skin.

"Clean up this mess, –" He gestured to you, "–and check her bandages. I want her presentable in 2 hours." With that, he turned and stalked out the door, slamming it shut with a loud creaking clang.

Rebecca sighed solemnly before wheeling her cart closer to where you were chained. As she approached you caught noticed she was wearing shackles around her ankles, which rustled against the floor with every step she took.

She came to a stop right in front of you, pulling a key out from the pocket of the white t-shirt dress she wore.

"Can you stand?" She asked as she began to unlock your cuffs.

"Probably." You responded, moving your legs hesitantly.

"Don't stand yet." Rebecca gently placed a hand on your shoulder. She looked over her shoulder for a few moments before reaching over to her cart. "I heard them say not give you food, but I managed to sneak some into my cart. Here, –" She pulled out a small tray with some rolls and a sealed bowl, "–it's beef stew and it should still be warm. I snuck it from the kitchen."

"How old are you?" You asked.

"16."

Jesus fucking Christ... illegal weapons... drugs... and slaves...

"It's going to be ok. I'm a G.C.P.D. detective." She looked up at you as you spoke. "And my partner is going to get us the fuck out of here."

You've never been one to pray, but you hoped to whatever mystical fucking being was out there that you didn't just lie and get both of your hopes up.




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