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Fifteen.

Author: Chihiro
last update Last Updated: 2024-08-24 23:25:21

Maria

I wake up, and it takes me a while before I realize I'm staring up at the ceiling.

My hands feel something soft underneath me, and I wonder if everything was a dream. A few seconds pass, and I take a deep breath. It doesn't smell like my room. Blinking against the darkness above, I reach over to the curtains, draw them back, and see the glittering lights of New York sprawled out before me as the dying embers of a sunset paint the western horizon with a splash of pink and gold.

Memories of the roaring wind whipping around me rush back to the forefront of my mind. I try to sit up, and pain greets me like an old friend.

Not a dream, definitely real.

Wincing, I lie back down, body aching but miraculously intact. I try to figure out just what the hell happened. How am I still alive and not splattered across the pavement?

Despite the pain, I can't help but reflect on the irony. I ran away from my controlling father, desperate for a chance to live my own life. And where did I end up? K
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    MariaI'm allowed to wander the penthouse after my ordeal. Mikhail doesn't realize how desperate I am to leave the confinement of my room. The freedom I'm afforded tells me that he knows I won't dare try it again. My previous dress was shredded. What's left of it lies on the floor by my bed. A reminder of how close I came to my death.I don't want breakfast, but I don't want to stay in this room. The view is breathtaking, yes, but there's no art in this room. And despite everything going to hell impressively, I want to see what other artwork this madman owns.How dare he laugh at me?The walk-in closet in my bedroom is empty. I guess a designer wardrobe materializing out of nowhere only exists in fairy tales. I yank the flat sheet off my bed and wrap it around me, twisting the ends together to make a rudimentary dress. My reflection looks passable, if a little trashy.Briefly, I wonder if he'll demand that I change into something more acceptable. But then I remind myself that I'm his

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Seventeen.

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Eighteen.

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Nineteen.

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   173

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   172

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   171

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   170

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   169

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   168

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   167

    MariaCHRISTMAS EVEA few cards sit on the mantel among a twisty wire of bright lights. The Christmas tree stands in one corner, its branches covered in twinkling lights and ornaments from the attic. For the first time in a long while, the living room furniture is draped in cozy red-and-green throws, and a plush white rug adds to the holiday style. The scent of cinnamon and cloves fills the air downstairs, but none of this is enough to put me in the mood.The only thing that makes me smile is a sonogram of my baby propped up on the mantelpiece.Dad sits in the kitchen wrapping gifts. The sound of paper folding and the cut and the hiss of tape being pulled off the spool is calming, like white noise. I stare at the colorful presents crowded under the tree with big loopy bows.I want to care that Christmas is tomorrow, but I just don't.It's hard to care when I can only think about Mikhail."You don't mind that they're coming over?" Dad enters the room, picking at a roll of tape, trying

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