My father sold me to the Mafia King

Chapter 42: 42/Are you real?

Chapter 42

Julie’s point of view

”Yes,” she continued with a painful numbness:

”And one time I decided I couldn’t take it anymore, so I ran... but he found me every time I hid.He kept haunting me like my shadow until I arrived here, to Mr. Robert’s kingdom. And now, I live in comfort and safety... at least here I know there are walls protecting me from that monster.”

I felt a deep sorrow tearing my heart for her.

It is difficult to escape the danger that threatens your life, and to preserve it you sacrifice your freedom.

To her, this prison had become her only fortress. I said to her in a low voice:

”I’m truly sorry for you, Sarah.”

She smiled a faint smile, the smile of a woman who had forgotten the taste of freedom, and said:

”It’s okay, Julie... it’s been five years already. I’ve started to forget my old life.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Five years?

”Five years! Oh, that’s such a long time...”

I looked around the room, thinking to myself: Will I become like her after five years? Will I get so used to these emerald walls that I’ll forget my own name...

I continued my conversation, trying to grasp the system of this place:

”But the rooms here are empty, Sarah... I opened five rooms before I found you, and they were all completely vacant.”

Sarah replied calmly as she straightened her red dress:

”Because there is a major party today... the other girls must be there now, displaying themselves to the customers.”

I immediately remembered the moment I left the stage; surely after my performance ended, the real ”trading” of the girls began. I asked her in confusion, suspicion creeping in:

”And you... why didn’t you go with them?”

She tilted her head slightly and said with a strange tone of pride:

”Because I am special.”

”What does that mean?”

I asked with trepidation.

She replied, her features showing clear happiness and satisfaction as if she were talking about a great achievement:

”I belong to Mr. Robert only... I am not for sale to anyone, and no customer has the right to touch me. I am his alone.”

I was so shocked that the words flew out of my mouth without thinking:

”Are you... his lover?”

Sarah laughed a loud laugh that rang through the room, but it was a laugh devoid of any joy, tinged with a biting sarcasm as she said:

”Oh, Julie... you’re really funny! Mr. Robert’s world has no such thing as ’love’ or a ’lover’... I am just his girl whom he beds whenever he wishes.”

A wave of disgust washed over me. I couldn’t help myself, so I said sharply:

”Please... why do you call that scoundrel ’Mr.’? We are alone here.”

She smiled sadly and replied:

”I’ve gotten used to it, Julie... it’s in my blood now. I can’t call him by his bare name even when I’m alone with myself.”

I looked at her intently, searching for any trace of dignity in her eyes, and asked in a low voice:

”And does he treat you well, at least?”

She replied with a coldness that killed me:

”Mr. Robert doesn’t come here often... maybe once a week. He only comes to release his needs, to have sex and leave... not to treat me well or poorly. To him, I am just a tool to vent his pressure.”

Then she went silent for a second, and said a sentence that made my head spin:

”And even though I love him... he never feels me.”

Nausea hit me. I felt as if I were receiving consecutive slaps to my face. Did I really hear her say she ”loves him”? How can a victim love her executioner? How can a woman adore the man who strips her of her freedom and sees her as nothing but a body?

I repeated in astonishment mixed with horror:

”Please... don’t say that! How can you love him? How can your heart beat for a man like that?”

Sarah replied in a dreamy tone that made me want to scream:

”Most of the girls here are infatuated with him, but they can’t reach him... don’t blame me for loving him. Haven’t you seen how handsome he is, Julie?”

I tried to suppress my rage. Handsome? What kind of handsomeness forgives a man for trafficking in humans? He is a despicable man; the cruelty of his heart overshadows any features others might find attractive. I felt my mind refusing to process her sick logic, and suddenly, hunger returned to gnaw at my vitals cruelly when I spotted a food trolley parked in the corner of the room.

I looked at Sarah and said eagerly:

”Sarah... I haven’t eaten since yesterday. Can I have some food?”

She answered kindly:

”Yes, of course you can. I’ve had my dinner and I’m full.”

I threw myself at the trolley like a drowning person who had found a lifebuoy.

There was roasted duck, mashed potatoes, and green soup.

I began to eat quickly and ravenously; even though the food was a bit cold, its taste in my mouth surpassed description because of the killing hunger I had endured.

As I was chewing the food, Sarah whispered in a shaky voice:

”Julie... are you real?”

I stopped eating and looked at her in confusion, and she continued, her eyes widening:

”Am I imagining you right now? Have I finally gone mad?”

I asked her as I wiped my mouth:

”Why do you say that?”

She said in a tone full of amazement:

”I can’t believe Mr. Robert gave you the key, and that you’re here now in my room! He never deals with the girls; they only see him from afar during parties, and he doesn’t speak to any of them... so who are you for him to do all this for you?”

Her words hit me like a thunderbolt. I began to wonder seriously:

”If Robert is this distant and aloof, why does he break into my room all the time? And why does he watch my smallest details?”

Was I just a new ”toy”? Or was there something in me that piqued his sick curiosity?

I said to her, trying to reassure her:

”Rest assured, Sarah, you aren’t imagining things. I am really here...”

Sarah thought I was an illusion, a ghost. This is what happens when you’re confined within four walls, alone and isolated from the outside world.

No matter how calm you stay, you will eventually go crazy. You are adrift in a sea of thoughts, and each thought leads you to the brink of disaster.

After trying to fight the enemies, you will begin to fight logic. Because it is what makes you lose feeling and sensation .

Nothing about you is the same as before; you will simply live in a void, in a cycle that repeats the same events every day.

You will go around in circles endlessly, and each time it gets worse. Even if you leave, that doesn’t mean you’re free. You’re only on the outside, but what’s going on inside your head will continue.

And in that moment, before I could finish my sentence, we heard the loud ”click” of the electronic lock... and the door swung open...That sound that you realize will be followed by a catastrophe you cannot control in any way You just freeze and wait for your fate, or perhaps a miracle to descend from the heavens to save you.

Even though you know miracles don’t happen, you still continue to pray. Yes, it is the hope we cannot live without, even though it has let us down countless times.