Aviana

I keep running through the woods; my lungs are burning, every muscle aches, and I keep dragging myself; they can't find me, I refuse to go back, and I cannot help the smile on my face, leaving hell after years in it feels good.*

Two weeks ago.

Smack. Kick, Kick.

 

I fall to the ground, and blood splatters from my mouth. Marion is pacing back and forth, his chest heaving. He takes off his jacket before crouching down to hold my neck. "What did I say about talking to my partners?" he whispers, tightening his grip. I try to fight him, but I'm no match for his strength. He harshly let me go, and I hit my head against the wall, making my vision blur.

After composing myself, I stand up, trying to fix my wrinkled dress. 

I don't want to cry; I won't cry, at least not in front of his men. The monster leaves the room and shuts the door behind him, making me jump.

One of Marion's men, Troy, guides me to my suite. The suite is spacious with a big king-size bed, an oversized walk-in closet since he always wants me to look my best, like some trophy he gets to show around his ass partners.

A vast two-doorway leads to the balcony, but I don't go there. All I'll see are huge men with guns patrolling the whole perimeter or shifting drugs.

"Are you okay, madam? I nod, taking off my dress. He sways his eyes away, blushing and holding the back of his neck.

"Blushing, are we?" I tease, moving closer. He looks momentarily, taking me in. I walk past him, taking off my thong. I like how he blushes. Troy is too cute for his good.

I go to the bathroom and close the door. I sigh when I get in the bathtub, scrubbing my body and putting shampoo in my hair. A young woman comes in to help me with my hair.

"I like your hair, Miss; my hair is one of the things I like about myself these days; it's long, curly black hair. She continues to wash it but suddenly freezes, stands up, and quietly exits the room.

"Mario," I sigh, leaning against the tub border,

He bends down to kiss my forehead before coming to my lips, but I move away; his every touch disgusts me.

He holds my chin tightly, and I spit in his face.

"If you obey me, things will be less difficult." He sneers, pushing me. "I hate that you have to be so stubborn, Aviana,"

"I'll always be until you let me go, please. I'm so tired."

"You're mine to hold, keep and fuck!"

"I'll never be yours, never," I tell him stubbornly. I wrap a towel around my body and let my wet hair down.

I breathe when I leave the room we are both in. How have I survived this long with a monster? I need to leave soon and fast. I need to go to my mother, but does she even care? She knows I am here, so can't she try to fight for me at least? Is money more important than her child?

Is she well? Does she miss me? Think about me.

Who took over Papa's business when he was killed? I don't want my mother anyway near it; I don't want her at risk.

Two years of torment, torture, and abuse I've endured just to keep her safe.

Mario saw me when I turned fifteen; I remember that day well. My father threw a very luxurious party at our home for all his associates; he was new in the drug cartel business, and my father and I were also against it, but we were poor, so he was willing to do anything to make money, even deal with drugs. I lay on the bed, closing my eyes as memories come flashing.

"Mama, I don't want to go," I told my mother as she helped me in a blue dress, zipping it.

"Aviana, you have to be there, my love; all those people are the people you're going to work with in the future," she smiled, looking at me through the mirror and kissing my hair. My mother looks happier now; she has always hated poverty. She despised that we lived in a small house and didn't have much. She's a woman who always wanted more: jewelry, good food, the boat cruise, just the good life, but we couldn't afford it back then when your father was only a simple miner barely making enough, but we were happy, life is simple, and there was no stress, no guns and no hundreds of men in our living room.

"Mama, I don't want to," I complain with a pout.

I look at my mother, who is looking at me beautifully. From her, I got my flawless porcelain skin and my father's jade eyes.

"Exactly one year ago, we didn't have all these. Can't you just be grateful?" she scolds, drinking her Champaign in a classy manner. I chuckle. Since when are we this classy? Mama looks at the emerald necklace my father recently purchased for her. Especially for this occasion, she does look like a queen in her high-waisted pants and high heels.

"Ser Rico te sienta bien," I tell her in Spanish. She smiles and looks in the mirror again.

"English, Ava," I roll my eyes as I put on the new heels,

"being rich suits you," I repeat what I said earlier as we go downstairs.

I look in awe at all the beautifully dressed people talking with glasses of champagne in their hands.

"Papa," I tap his shoulder; he turns to me with a smile and then kisses my cheek.

"Everyone, this is my daughter, Aviana," he tells his colleagues, who slightly lower their heads to me. An intimidating man appears in front of me. He is handsome with jet-black hair, and I blush, swallowing thickly.

"Hi, Beautiful, I'm Mario," His voice is deep, and my breath hitches; Mario takes my hand and kisses it gently, not breaking eye contact.

"Mr. Mario," I repeat.

Mario was older than me but made me feel hot, and the butterflies in my stomach were relentless!

Father talks to him for a while about their business, but Mario keeps glancing in my direction until PapaPapa pushes me away gently. 

"Ve con tu Madre," he says, not taking his eyes off Mario. I sigh and go to my mother.