My father sold me to the Mafia King-Chapter 16/Silk Shield

Chapter Sixteen:

Julie’s Point of View

I ran down that long hallway which, for some reason, refused to end.

I was running from Robert, from his room, from myself, and from my fears that had suddenly awakened to gnaw at my chest.

My feet were moving with a frantic speed, yet I felt as though I were still standing there, in the middle of his room, under the influence of the shock of his disgusting words that had planted terror in my depths.

Those words... how did he dare say them? I felt as though I were standing completely naked before him—not the nakedness of the body that I feared before the doctor, but the nakedness of the soul.

He reached out to the place I try hardest to forget and toyed with it with lethal coldness; he constantly reminds me that he bought me from my father to become a whore he rents out to men in his disgusting club.

My body collided with Olivia, who was standing in the hallway.

She stumbled back and looked at me with a shock tinged with curiosity mixed with jealousy, and said:

— ’Were you in Mr. Robert’s room?’

I was in no mood for another confrontation with Olivia; my pride had suffered enough from Robert.

I ignored her completely and dashed down the stairs at the speed of light, as if the demons of the earth were chasing me.

I headed to my room, which, in the intensity of my pain, felt better within its prison-like walls than his cursed room.

As soon as I entered, his pajamas slipped from my hand and fell to the floor like a lifeless corpse.

I threw myself onto the bed, burying my face in my pillow, trying to stifle my muffled screams.

At that moment, my imagination surrendered to the darkness; I imagined myself in full adornment, wearing that provocative performance outfit I had seen in my closet, standing behind the curtains waiting for a customer who had paid the price for his ’pleasure’ to enjoy my body for one night.

I imagined the scene repeating every night... strange faces, heavy breaths, and different men who see in me nothing but a violated body.

I felt nausea coursing through my veins, and my skin crawled at the mere thought.

Robert had injected this poison into my mind with mastery; he made me realize that my rebellion, my shouting, and even my singing would not change the fact that in his eyes and my father’s eyes, I am merely a ’deal’ waiting for delivery.

I gripped the pillow tightly as if trying to protect my body from those fantasies, and asked myself with bitterness: Will I be able to close my eyes tonight without seeing Robert’s face as he smiles coldly and says:

’Isn’t that so?’"

I stayed awake all night, fighting my thoughts and struggling to silence the echo of his words in my mind.

I had told him that I do not fear death; I claimed strength and indifference, while the truth is that death terrifies everyone, and I am one of them.

But I did not lie when I felt that the coldness of the grave is a thousand times more merciful than the heat of a stranger’s breath in his disgusting club.

Death is an end, but what Robert is planning is a torment that renews with every dawn.

What gnawed at my soul most now was that he had become the holder of the secret key to my fear; he had discovered my weakness, and this kind of man never leaves a weapon unused.

A bitter doubt haunted me that he would not grant me the luxury of time, nor would he wait for the wound marring my face to heal... for in his world, even ’damaged goods’ might find a buyer, or perhaps he would consider breaking my pride while I am at the peak of my weakness to be his greatest victory.

I rose from the bed with heavy but steady steps and went to the bathroom.

I stood before the mirror and saw my reflection; I looked like a complete vagrant, my eyes were withered, my hair was chaotic, and the bandage on my face reminded me of all yesterday’s breakages.

I looked directly into my own eyes and, in a whispering tone carrying a promise of revenge, I said to myself:

— "You cannot collapse, Julie... not now. You will fight until the last breath, and if you fail... then you must kill yourself, for that is thousands of times more merciful."

The decision was as clear as the sun, and this clarity granted me a strange strength.

I began stripping off my clothes stained with the remnants of yesterday and turned on the shower.

The cold water rushed to strike my skin, completely ignoring the nurse’s warnings about the bandage that must not get wet.

I let the water submerge my face and penetrate the edges of the bandage so its moisture would mix with the heat of my wound.

I wanted this water to wash away Robert’s scent clinging to my pores and to purify me from his disgusting gazes.

With every drop that fell, I felt I was reclaiming a part of my soul that was nearly lost in the hallway of his room.

I will not be the quiet victim, and I will not allow him to see that terror in my eyes again.

If he wants a monster, I will give him a monster that does not fear even death.

I stepped out of the bathroom and wrapped my body in a dry white towel, then my eyes fell on Robert’s pajamas lying on the floor.

I looked at them with contempt, but I had no other choice; my old clothes were finished.

I tried to put on the pants, but it was impossible; the waist was so wide that I would need ten times my waist size for them to stay in place.

I took only the top part. I put on clean underwear I found in the room’s closet, then pulled his silk pajama shirt over my head.

To me, it was like a large tent; the shoulders hung far from mine, and its length reached below my knees, to the point that I completely disappeared inside it.

But the problem wasn’t the size—it was that scent! His powerful scent, a blend of oud and premium tobacco, consumed my nose and seeped into my senses forcefully, as if I weren’t just wearing his clothes, but as if I were standing in the same place with him, as if his breath were chasing me even inside my room.

I felt disgusted by the idea that I was "wrapped" in something belonging to him, but this oversized shirt was my only shield in a prison where he sets the rules.

I looked in the mirror; I looked pathetic. A massive man’s shirt drowning my slender body, and a wet bandage beginning to lose its grip on my face.

Nevertheless, there was a new spark in my eyes, the spark of someone who had decided not to be defeated twice by the same weapon.

While I was trying hard to ignore his scent surrounding me inside his shirt, the door opened and the nurse entered with her usual pale face.

She stopped in her tracks and scanned me with quick glances before her eyes settled on my face, and she said in a blaming tone:

— "Good morning... did you get the bandage wet?"

I didn’t answer her immediately; instead, I looked at her with a coldness I had drawn from my long night.

The edges of the wet bandage were loosening from my skin, and I felt the sting of the water that had seeped into the wound, but the pain gave me a feeling that I was still alive, and that my body was still mine even if it was hurting.

I answered her in a dry tone while avoiding her eyes:

— "I needed to bathe... the bandage doesn’t matter anymore."

She approached me as she placed her medical bag on the table beside me, her eyes widening in shock as she scrutinized the "tent" I was wearing.

She knew immediately to whom this silk shirt belonged; Robert’s scent was filling the room now because of me. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

She said as she took out the sterilization tools:

— "Mr. Robert does not like negligence, Julie, and this wound might leave a permanent mark if you don’t take care of it."

I smiled bitterly; a permanent mark? And is there a mark deeper than the one he left in my soul? I said to her as I sat rigidly:

— "Let the mark remain... to be a permanent reminder of the place I am in."

The nurse began her usual rituals. Her cold hands moved with a dull mechanical rhythm, as she tried in vain to make the bandage stick to my wound, which seems to refuse to heal, just as I refuse to adapt to this place.

After she finished, she didn’t utter a single word; she gathered her tools and left the room in a suspicious silence, leaving behind a weight that could only be explained by her looks filled with pity.

I rose from my place; I felt the coldness of the water in my wet hair and began searching for a hairdryer in the closet drawers, but I found nothing.

Suddenly, my calm was shattered when the door was violently thrown open and "Olivia" burst into the room.

Her face was burning with rage, and her eyes sparkled with sparks that nearly scorched me. She stood before me, scanning me from head to toe, before her gaze settled on Robert’s shirt drowning my body, and she said in a sharp voice that was about to explode:

— "What were you doing yesterday in his room?!"