Adelina Celine Torres
I got food today.
A bowl of rice and a slab of meat.
I devoured it.
And I'm still starving.
Four days I have been here.
My body has fresh bruises all over it, I actually don't think there's a single square inch of skin that isn't bruised. That same man as the other day has visited me each day, messing with me and being a jerk before ultimately beating me unconscious.
Asshole.
I mean....butthole.
Every time he yells about how much he hates Aaron, how one day Aaron will understand what it is like to find a loved one dead.
Me.
He's talking about me.
Nightmares have filled every second I manage to sleep.
Nightmares with Aaron finding my dead body, covered in blood and bruises in this horrid basement. He kneels over my limp body and I see him cry, holding my hand and caressing my arm.
Picturing the vivid dreams I had, I pull my knees to my chest and I rest my head on them, tears escaping my eyes.
I don't know what Nick or Alyssa must be thinking right now, they might not even know I'm fine either.
I haven't seen Aaron's dad since the first day I was here, and I am okay with that. Although, I think I prefer him over the guy who just hits me.
Have I mentioned how freezing it is in this basement?
I have my shirt on again, but I use my skirt as a blanket over my thighs, having ripped the side of it so it is long enough to cover from the top of my thighs to my mid shins.
I miss Nick.
I miss Owen.
I miss Ronny.
I miss not crying.
I cry. All the time. Every second I am not sleeping or being hurt, I sit here and sob. When I do manage to sleep, I wake up screaming from nightmares of Aaron and end up sobbing.
Always crying.
My braid is now a complete rats nest with dried blood in it, and I think it is actually turning into matts.
Aaron would be disgusted if he saw me right now.
And that thought makes me cry even more.
The door in front of me opens and I don't even move to look up. My body starts to shake at the thought of being hurt worse than I am right now. I can't take anything else. There's no more space on my body to hurt, just to deepen existing bruises and open barely scabbed over cuts.
"I didn't think four days would take such a toll on you," Aaron's dad says, and at this I look up in surprise. Why is he here?
He walks closer to me and kneels beside me, "Come with me." He tells me.
I sit there for about thirty seconds, my mind confused as to wether I should listen or try to stay here. I don't like this room, but what if he takes me somewhere worse? Or what if he lets me go?
It's not like I even have a choice, he'd probably force me to go with him anyway, so I reluctantly stand up.
"Good girl," He says, grabbing my arm and tugging me in front of him. He makes me walk before him, but he tells me where to go. I try to stop and put on my skirt, but he yanks it from my hand and makes me leave it in the room.
And I am in just underwear and my shirt.
He takes me to a cleaner looking part of whatever building we are in, then we reach a door. This place is a maze, and even if I got out of a locked room alone I doubt I could find my way out. There's dozens of different hallways and doors that all look the same, in fact I don't even think I could get back to the basement I just came from if I tried.
"Open the door, princess," He tells me.
I cringe at the nickname, but reach up and twist the handle. The door opens and reveals a bedroom.
For me?
It's simple but spacious, a king bed in the middle and nothing else. The room itself is large, but probably looks much bigger at the absence of furniture past a bed. The lighting is awful, with similar creepy luminescent lights on the ceiling as in the hallways.
I walk inside slowly, unsure why he would be giving me a nice room like this after leaving me in that basement for the better half of a week.
I sense him walk in after me and I freeze when I feel his hand tug at the bottom of my shirt, trying to pull it up.
"Stop it." I say, spinning around to him and swatting his hand away.
"Stop?" He says, "You think I am giving you a nicer room for nothing?"
I shiver at what he is implying, "I would rather stay in the basement."
"Alright, afterwards I will throw you back in the damn basement then." He lurks closer to me, clearly not taking the hint.
"I am not doing anything with you." I say straight up, disgust washing over me at letting him touch me that way. Or any way.
"I'm afraid I was not asking, princess."
------
Aaron Hendrix
"Aaron you need to be calm." Mike tells me.
"Fuck off." is all I say, brushing him off.
"Aaron going in there and blowing up at him will do nothing," Owen takes his side. "What you want me to be nice?" I say.
I haven't seen my father since I turned his whole mafia against him. On top of convincing them he turned against me I also found dozens of cases where he took advantage of his partners and even outed his trafficking ring in New York.
I destroyed him.
I thought the news of his downfall wouldn't reach him until a day later, so I could ensure Addie was safe in case he tried anything. Instead, the day I made my move he gets to her and I haven't seen her since.
I am going fucking insane.
He refused to see me any sooner, so I have been losing my mind over her being with him. Alone. Scared.
I haven't been able to sleep.
Thoughts of what he is doing to her fill my mind, a horrible image of her hurt at his hands coming to my mind constantly.
She doesn't know my father. She doesn't know what he would to do a person--what I have seen him to do innocent people-- let alone someone he uses as leverage. I have watched him take advantage of drunk or even drugged women, getting beat unconscious if I tried to do anything to stop it. I have watched him skin people alive, torture them in unthinkable ways.
And now he has her.
Fuck.
I can't believe I let this happen.
I shouldn't have let her out of my sight, especially when I turned his coworkers against him. I should have kept her close, safe.
"Aaron," Owen's voice brings me back, "She will be alright," He tells me, "He wouldn't kill her."
His words don't make me feel any better. I know he wouldn't have killed her--yet at least-- but he sure as hell would hurt her.
Hurt her.
We are at one of my fathers warehouses he got in California over the past few weeks, since he demanded we meet on his turf. I am supposed to meet him at ten, and it's only 9:48 but he can fucking deal with it.
I am pissed.
I am worried.
If he touched a hair on her head I am torturing him to death.
Fuck it, I'm torturing him to death anyway.
Walking into a room, I try to conceal my surprise when I see my father as well as Tread Winthraw.
This asshole?! Really?
Tread worked for my father around the time I moved to California. His father had two fourteen year old girls in his basement, so I killed him. Stupid ass Tread tried to kill me for killing his father, so I beat him up and let him rot in the room with his fathers dead body.
I was pissed, what can I say.
Now he sits smugly next to my father, wearing a cheap looking suit with a tie that doesn't even match.
Why the hell is he here?
"You're early." My father says, sitting up a little at my presence. I stare at the two men, so much anger bubbling inside of me.
Then my eyes zone in on Tread's knuckles—hits bruised, scratched knuckles. My eyes flicker to his face as a smirk appears, "You remember me, right?" he asks.
"Toby was it?" I say, unsure how I am keeping my composure with him.
"Tread you dipshit" He seethes.
"Ah, I remember you. How's your father doing?" I say, then feel Owen kick my feet from under the table.
"You wouldn't be nearly as smug if you saw--"
"Enough, Tread." My father cuts him off and my fists are so tight I think I might break my own hand.
If I saw Addie. I wouldn't be so smug if I saw her is what he meant to say.
"What the hell have you done to her?" I hiss at him,
He laughs.
He fucking laughs in my face.
"Her pretty little face almost made me feel guilty, but this" He gestures to me, "Was so fucking worth it."
I stand up abruptly, Owen's hand on my arm in a second, "Calm the hell down," He says under his breath.
"What do you want?" Mike asks, still sitting down. Owen sits and I glare at Tread, sitting as well. We will see how smug he is when I cut off his fingers one by one, or when I skin him just how I saw my father skin a man when I was eight years old.
"What do I want?" My father repeats the question, "I want my mafia back."
I shake my head, "It is too late for that. They don't trust you anymore. They never will."
He shrugs, "Not my problem." He leans back in his chair, "You get the Torres girl when they trust me again."
Silence falls over the room. Mike and Owen both know how unrealistic his request is. Trust is a very big thing in our industry, once you lose it you can rarely get it back, and at that it takes years.
"That would take forever." Owen says, his voice turning angry, his whole calm-composure act crumbling apart.
My father just shrugs once more, "I am in no rush. I don't mind waking up to such a beautiful woman every day," He smirks, and I lose it.
I am out off my chair in a second, pinning him against the wall.
"You" I say breathlessly, "You lost. Fucking take it and run back to New York with your tail between your legs like you should have done last week when I beat you."
"I beat you," I say once more, "You are not getting your mafia back, and you sure as hell are never setting your eyes on Adelina again."
I hear Tread get up and step towards me, but I don't move. Owen won't let him touch me.
Sure enough, I turn and see Tread pinned against the table, his face being pushed into the wood by Owen.
"Now tell me where she is," I take a gun from my waistband, "Or I kill you," I aim it at his forehead.
This time, I will shoot him.
That night at the Hamilton's I backed out, I was too afraid to kill my father, so I shot the wall just an inch from his ear to scare him. Now, though, I am not afraid. I will smile as he dies, I will cherish the memory forever.
Once he gives me back Adelina.
2011 words