Grusha's POV:
“Amalia”
The moment he said that name, I looked at him while dropping my hands to my lap while still holding the glass of water and pills in my palms. He again mistook me for my mother. ‘How foolish of me to think that he has finally…..never mind’ I mused as a sad chuckle escaped my lips.
“Amalia”
He called again but I did nothing and just stared at him. This is not the first time he mistook me for my mother, so it’s not new. And I know this won’t be the last time too. But each time this happened, his eyes, his behavior and everything looked different. His eyes seemed somewhat softer and showed many emotions but I couldn’t quite grasp what those were. However, he appeared somewhat different. That’s all I knew. In the beginning I believed it to be a side effect of the medications, but later I was proven wrong when this persisted even when he used to refuse taking medication.
Sighing, I again reached out to him in the hopes that he would take them, either consciously or unconsciously. It doesn’t matter what he calls me as long as I get the job done.
“Sir, please take your medicine.”
He seemed to regain his consciousness as his eyes returned to the cold gaze. His lips and fingers began to tremble as his eyes grew darker and darker by each passing second; something could have terrified me a long ago but not anymore. I was aware of his potential next move based on my prior experiences. He is going to…
“Aaaarrrr….”
He groaned deeply, expressing his anger as best as possible as expected, yet failing miserably to scare the shit out of me-probably because I have seen the worst or because even I know that he is powerless right now. As I told before, his condition is a torture. That’s obvious.
It is not surprising to know that my own father despises me this much that he hates to even look at my face. Not after what I did.
Sighing, I stood up placing the glass on the tray before putting the pills in the bottles and placing them inside the drawers. There were not many pills left in them and I knew that once they were gone, he wouldn’t receive any more since no one was concerned about his health. However, if he continues in this manner, it won’t be a matter for a while.
I picked up the tray, completely oblivious to the pain that forced me to bite hard on my lower lip and close my eyes, almost making me cry as the pain shot through my wrist to my entire hand. For a while, everything that just happened completely distracted me. I decided to apply something on my wrist first because I knew that I won’t be able to work with an injured wrist.
I took one last look at my father who was still trembling before hobbling outside while hissing with each step.
I couldn’t help but wonder how quiet this place is as I hobbled through the hallway on my way to downstairs. There are twenty bedrooms in total, as I recall counting when I went to clean, even though only few of them were occupied. I have heard that my parents used to reside in the last room at the end of this hallway, but after my mother passed away, that was abandoned and even father moved into another room, where he is staying right now. Despite the fact that no one was allowed to go there, I have paid couple of visits since I was told to clean the entire house regardless of the rooms being occupied or not. Everything in that room stays the same as before. Neither clothes nor furniture have been touched nor moved.
There are pictures hung on the wall, where I first saw the picture of my mother. There is a picture of a woman standing next to a man who had his hand around her waist and eyes on her face while she was carrying a boy who appeared to be around 6-years-old. The woman had a beautiful smile over her lips and loving eyes which left me quite astonished since those things have never crossed my face. They appeared to be very happy. When I first saw that photo, I felt a pang in my chest from guilt over ruining that happiness they had. Everything has been perfect until I came to their lives. I regret it and I am aware that I will never be able to forgive myself for it. Each time I entered that room I used to stare at that particular picture for what felt like hours until my eyes became glossy. But now, whenever I enter that room what I feel is only anger. I feel fury at myself.
When I was a child, some of father’s men used to stay at this house, but later they also left god knows why. Ever since then, this place has grown darker and more desolate than it was before, as if a gloomy cloud has descended upon the house.
Except these, brother has a room in the second floor where he rarely stays since he spends most of his time at the bar or at his office. Like father like son. No matter what, their alcoholism and greediness will never be satisfied. Despite the fact that they never get along, they have more in common.
So except those rooms, all of the other rooms are empty unless we have some unexpected overnight guests which is really rare or brother brings some chicks to fuck which happens quite often.
My feet finally halted at the staircase as I took a deep breath before clutching the handrail and going down. Balancing the tray with one hand, I slowly made it to the bottom before letting out a sigh of relief. I was about to enter the kitchen when I heard the main door opening abruptly, making me flinch at the sound, stopping me in my tracks and sending shivers down my spine as I witnessed the last person I wanted to see and hadn’t seen since last night entering the house with anger raging through him.
Brother…
I clenched the tray tightly in my hands, lowering my head and closing my eyes tightly when I saw him storming towards me fuming in rage, bracing myself for any tantrum that he is going to take out on me. But…
Grusha's POV:I waited for something to happen, like his fists or any object he could find nearby, as I heard his footsteps get closer, but nothing did. Instead, I suddenly felt a current of wind pass me. I slowly opened my eyes when I heard loud footsteps going up the stairs, only to see my brother’s disappearing figure. He despised me just as much as father did, so it was strange to see him pass by me without at least leaving his finger prints on my cheeks. He was exactly like father in that regard. I let it slide because it is not like I wanted him to do anything.I retreated my gaze from him, only for my eyes to fall on the smirking guy who has been leaning against the door frame, I assume, ever since brother arrived, who I didn’t notice until now.Victor…Despite the fact that he is my cousin, Victor could also receive the title of “best friend” from my brother, which is not at all surprising given that I knew that Victor is not the gentleman that he appears to be. In fact he is
Grusha's POV:“No, no, no don’t. I’m sorry. Please don’t do that. Please…”The girl who was tied to a chair pleaded, not knowing what she had done wrong. She apologized for whatever she had done because she had a fleeting thought that if she begged he would let her go; he wouldn’t do anything to her; he wouldn’t harm his own daughter, his own blood. Right? Or she thought. A dark chuckle echoed throughout the basement snatching the slightest thought she had.“Please don’t do this papa.”She was a crying mess, frantically attempting to free herself from the bound chair. But her words fell on deaf ears as he did nothing but continuously chuckled like a maniac looking at her attempts to escape from his captive.Her struggles came to an abrupt end when she felt a sharp blade at her throat. As the blade moved from her throat to her cheek before stopping at her temples, her breathing became more rapid.He circled the chair until he was in front of her still holding the dragger against her le
Grusha's POV: “Grusha…” When I heard that voice, I felt as though time had stopped. If it weren’t for the burning sensation in my scalp, I might have thought this was some kind of dream. I slowly turned my head after being shocked by what I had just heard, to see the worst sight I have ever seen in my life. Tears that were welled up escaped my eyes, slightly clearing my vision. Brother? If it weren’t for his voice and the necklace that dangle around his neck, I wouldn’t believe this is my brother because of how much worse his condition was. His hair was a mess and it covered both of his eyes and forehead. His head was hung low, but I could see his face totally covered with blood. He was on his knees, his hands tied behind him, occasionally coughing blood. His shirt was also covered with blood and the top buttons were opened which didn’t prevent me from seeing his blood covered chest. I have never imagined him in such a situation like this, but here he is. I was not excited or surp
Grusha's POV:I feel as if I have been beaten.Wait. What happened?I compelled myself to recall the last memories I have. And the last thing I remember are those ocean eyes.I felt my head spinning and my body aches were getting worse. I opened my eyes only to find the blurry vision of what was surrounding me. I had to blink few times to clear my vision and then I took notice of my surrounding. It almost felt familiar but I am conscious enough to know that it is not.I could see that I was in a cell in someone’s basement, and the crimson handprints on the grubby walls were obvious evidence of my conformation, which didn’t scare me at all. There is a door right in front of me, where I assume would be my only way out.My lips felt dry and the corner of my lips was bruised reasoning why I can’t open them. My hair was covering my face, brushing against my bruised lips every time I took a breath. I tried tugging them away, only to notice my hands were restrained. I tried to wiggle out of
Author's POV"Just kill me"Grusha uttered while looking him in the eyes. And those eyes stared back at her grey orbs emotionlessly. She expected him to do something, but all he did was stare at her. But what Grusha didn’t see was the confusion in his eyes. Having people in his cells begging him to kill them is not something new to Damien, but the fact that the existence of the girl in front of him being a mystery is something that triggers his restless mind. He kept staring at her, trying to find something or anything that could be useful but the fear-coated grey orbs revealed nothing but exhaustion; exhaustion of everything.For a brief moment, he thought she could be a spy or something, but after observing her face, he realized she is not someone like that unless she is really good at acting, so he did not completely dismiss his assumption. Even if she if a spy, then why would Bernadi go to such lengths to obtain her? Her mystery was messing with his mind, but he knew for sure that
Damien's POV:‘No wonder why they felt so familiar. Well, then that means that those rumors are true.’ I leaned back taking couple of steps backward while continuing to look at her as she appeared to be zoning out while staring at a blank space.‘Then, it is Grusha Aslanov. The princess of the mob. And the heir of the Aslanov mafia. And now the only heir. Additionally, the daughter of Amalia Bernadi; late mafia queen.’ I had had a few brief encounters with her before she passed away when I was a child, but I had heared enough to be aware that she was the only woman who took over the mafia world. Rumors said that she passed away while giving birth, but no one said anything about the baby. While there were few rumors that the baby was alive and fine, some people claimed that the baby also passed away. And here she is. It turned out to be that those rumors are true. I don’t know what kind of relationship nonno [grandfather] has with the Aslanovs, but I do remember how he treated Amalia l
Grusha's POV:I hissed as foamy water kissed every scar on my body, even the recently injured ankle. After that guy left, I stood up and tried to walk to the bathroom, but ended up hobbling all the way like he said and successfully spraining the same injured ankle. The pain was unbearable and I would have taken a bath in the bathtub but I chose to be hard on myself and chose to take a shower standing. I had to bite my tongue to keep me from screaming in pain. I shifted all my weight to my left leg and put both hands on the wall to ease the pain in ankle. I turned my head to the side and bit down on my arm, groaning as the pain shot through my veins from my ankle to my hips like electricity.After turning off the shower, I limped out of the shower while frantically scrabbling my hands everywhere, desperately trying to find something to hold onto, in order to support me but miserably finding nothing. With my stumbling steps, the scratch over my ankle has reopened and the blood started t
Grusha's POV:As soon as I opened my eyes, I involuntarily bend over the sink and threw up everything that was inside my stomach. I wonder if there were any. After throwing up, I washed my face and lifted my head to catch a glimpse of myself. My cheeks and nose were crimson red and red veins of eyes were highlighted in the white of sclera. A headache was forming in my head and my nose was running. I grabbed the towel back and dried off my face before keeping it on the counter. I took a few hobbling steps back and my eyes unknowingly fell over the scar on my hip. I slightly rotated my leg to get a full view of the scar.Touching the scar, I trace it along to the end of it, at the inner thigh. It does its job. It reminds me of that day. It reminds me of those filthy touches. It reminds me how I was almost raped by that jerk. It reminds me everything. Just like he wanted to. Sighing heavily, I made my way out of the bathroom to bedroom without caring to cover myself. I always had this ha