My father sold me to the Mafia King

Chapter 86:

Julie’s Point of View

As soon as I locked the door behind me, the dam I had built in front of Olivia and Sarah collapsed.

I threw myself onto the bed, feeling a lump tearing through my throat, and burst into bitter weeping; my entire body shook violently as if I were trying to expel the humiliation that had permeated my pores.

I placed my hand on my burning cheek; the pulse in it was strong and painful, reminding me every second of my weakness and helplessness.

She had slapped me twice, and I... I had done nothing but flounder like a bird with a broken wing.

I cursed myself with choked words, muttering between my sobs:

”Damn you, Julie... how could you not even stand up to her?”

I pulled my knees to my chest so hard I felt my bones pressing against each other,

and buried my stinging face in them, trying to escape the echo of the insults that still rang in my ears.

I whispered in a broken voice drowned in my tears:

”Where are you, Steve? Where are you, my brother?”

At that moment, a bitter longing pulled me back to that early morning the day following his escape, which was, for me, a funeral for my soul.

I remembered how I ran toward the garden, where the remains of our buried childhood lay, and headed toward the rock hidden among the thick bushes.

I lifted the rock with trembling hands, and when I found the white paper, I snatched it eagerly like someone grasping a lifeline.

I opened it and began to read lines that bled with pain:

’’My sister Julie, when you find this letter, it means I have left... and believe me, my heart is breaking because I will not see you anymore... I won’t be able to hold you...’’

I moved the paper away from my eyes, which were clouded by a mist of tears, and burst into a resounding sob that choked me.

I threw myself down, collapsing onto the cold green grass, feeling a loneliness that was killing me. After minutes, I gathered myself to finish reading:

’’My circumstances were greater than my staying in that house, Julie... it was never my home, and those in it were not my parents... I always felt like trash they pushed away with their feet, a punching bag my father emptied his anger into, while my mother was just a silent decorative doll... I always asked myself: what is more painful? The beating or the deprivation?’’

I suddenly felt a heavy iron ball sitting on my chest, pressing on my lungs until my breath grew short.

I tried to cry again but I couldn’t; my body had stiffened from the horror of the truth Steve had been keeping secret.

He was always as solid as a stone in front of us even though he was no more than fifteen, and I was only eleven, but we lived a misery that far exceeded our ages.

I finished the last lines with cramped fingers:

’’I am going I don’t know where, but I will find a better place... and I promise you that I will come and take you with me. Don’t forget that I love you, and I will love you forever... Your brother Steve.’’

I closed my eyes tightly in my current reality, the old letter still etched in my memory,

while my hand still wiped the traces of Olivia’s slaps, wishing that Steve’s promise would come true now... that he were here to protect my cheek from this pain.

I rose from the bed with a stiff body and stepped toward the bathroom with heavy strides.

I turned the faucet on all the way, splashing my face with cold water that lashed my skin with a harsh sting,

as if I were trying to wash the humiliation of the slaps off my skin.

When I raised my head, my gaze froze in the mirror; the redness on my cheek was blatant, a hideous print of Olivia’s fingers that had violated my face.

I gripped the edge of the sink until my knuckles turned white, and let my long hair strands fall over my cheeks in a calculated move to hide that shameful mark.

I whispered to myself, my voice trembling with a newfound determination:

”You will be strong, Julie... you won’t let that bitch break what remains of you.”

But, as I scrutinized the details of my features through the mist that enveloped the mirror, those words Robert had driven into my head like nails attacked my mind.

I felt a heat sweeping through my neck, rising to invade my ears in shame, and my grip tightened on the cold marble.

I closed my eyes tightly and buried my face between my wet palms, feeling a nausea sweeping through my stomach from the intensity of the embarrassment.

I asked desperately:

”No... no... how did that happen? How did I allow myself to kiss Robert?”

My words came out as a whisper laden with regret and bewilderment at myself:

”How did I kiss that monster? How did I lose control to this extent?”

I suddenly felt a searing glow sweeping through my body, as if the blood in my veins had turned into liquid lava;

neither the cold water nor the room’s air conditioner was of any use anymore. I stepped out of the bathroom, my breath coming in short, tight gasps,

and my hands trembled as I unbuttoned my shirt with hysterical speed, trying to free my chest from that suffocating siege.

I stripped off the shirt and threw it onto the floor with indifference, remaining only in my bra,

feeling the cold air touch my glowing skin, yet it did not extinguish those fires lurking deep within me.

I headed toward the vanity with agitated steps, my eyes searching the marble surface in a feverish hunt for anything to gather the strands of my hair,

which were clinging to my damp neck and increasing my sense of suffocation.

I raised my hands to gather the heavy strands of my hair away from my shoulders,

and as I was tying them up, I realized the bitter truth; it wasn’t the weather that was the cause,

but the heat emanating from within me... from the boiling of oppression.

I was on the verge of dying from that internal combustion, while my fingers gripped my hair harshly,

as if I were trying to uproot those distorted thoughts from my head before they consumed what remained of my mind.