|| R.I.P FOR ME || RUSSIAN MAFIA NOVEL

PROLOGUE

It's that moment when you're drugged for the first time -- and you feel like there's no air left for you in the room you're in. Everything slows, including your breathing. Your heart continues to beat but it feels as if you're not living. You're dying. That's until those heavy hands grab you in places you don't want touched. You go to defend yourself, but you can't because whatever was put in your drink has taken over. All you can do is say stop, but even then, words wont escape your mouth. No longer are you a person -- you're a victim.

DISCLAIMER:

STRONG LANGUAGE

The flimsy mother finishes the last few sips of the clear bottle that was once filled with vodka. She takes a few drunken step back before stumbling forward, setting the bottle next to the other three empty bottles. Her eyes are watery -- eyelids droopy over her dark blue orbs. Sweat drips from her forehead and slides down from the sides of her flushed face. Foundation cakes up her disastrous face, blue lipstick smeared across her thin lips. She sways to the side turning around to the entrance of her messy room.

The room painted in a dark navy blue, different amounts of clutter in each corner of the room. Dim installed recessed lighting glued to the ceiling. Clothes of exotic colors topple on top of one another. Her closet door is wide open displaying different kinds of shoes almost like a store but without the price tags. Cheap material the shoes are -- leather, textiles, fabrics. The white carpet is stained drastically with puke, the smell radiating into the rest of the room. Needles lay on the dresser along with pipes, spoons, and liquids.

The clumsy young woman staggers into the wall as she attempts to walk out of the room. Slipping on her own puke, she lands on the floor before her, banging her head on the way down and rolling into one of the piles of clothes she has set out. Grabbing onto an imaginary assistant for assistance she helps herself up walking incautiously to to her daughter's room.

In the next room, everything is quiet. The world is still only in that room. A safe place to the teenager that sits on her large queen sized bed. Awards and ribbons are lined up along her wall next to Polaroid photos that show her displaying the award. They all hold specific dates under them on the white gloss in sharpie. Maddy was incredibly noble of herself which is why she thought highly of herself and so did others. Awards were appealing to her. When she was little and won her first award, she couldn't stop. Ever since then she promised to push herself to her furthest ability until she'd gotten an award for everything she wanted to accomplish.

Her step-mother snatches Maddy's headphones from off of her ears, slamming her Macbook shut.

''Maddy -- Maddy! Don't you -- hear me callin' your ass!?'' she hiccups trying her best to hold her voice up.

''Girl, what~?'' she chuckles, confusion flooding her mind.

''Don't what me. I know you hear..d me calling yo..u!'' she slurs, weakly grabbing her 'daughters' arm.

''What the fuck, are you drunk?'' the young teen answers, snatching her arm away.

''No, but I know that--''

''Then why the fuck do you smell like you just swallowed like ten bottles of vodka, bitch?''

The woman before her stutters trying to find words for the question she was just asked.

''Exactly, bitch. Get the fuck out.'' she demands.

''But the men are coming--''

Maddy moves her Macbook to the side before standing up on her bed. Looking down at her worst enemy, she grabs a small glass container filled with lip gloss and throws it at her head.