2

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror. Sweat. Tears. Trauma. Harassment. 

After years of trauma and molestation, I am still a weak little girl. I am never treated like a member of this family, while my parents used to mentally torture me, Sean was the one to torture me physically. 

He took his frustration out on me and left me the moment he was done. 

The morning sun shines through the windows and I sit on the bed's edge. My body is sore, and marks are carved on my arms, chest, and neck. I have been hiding them for a while now. Sean taught me how to hide them. 

The door of the room pushes open and my mother enters, with a taunting tone she refers to me, “Come down right this moment!” I sigh rising back to my feet and walking behind her. 

“And bring your stuff along.”

Mom is climbing down the stairs as I follow her and with a twist in her ankle, she trips over, rolling onto the stairs. I try to grab her arm but she is too fast to fall. 

Fuck! 

“Mom!” I shout, astonishment taking over my expression and soon demand my dad's attention. They hurry towards the end of the stairs where mom falls. “Oh my God. Amanda!” My father gasps in surprise while Sean calls out to her and I remain paralyzed in my place. 

Just my eyes batting and it's too difficult to process. 

My father and Sean lift their faces towards me, darting coldly in my direction. I know that if looks could kill, I would be buried six feet under the ground. Fortunately, my mom is in her senses and no injury is caused in this unexpected accident. 

“You fucking get down here!” my father speaks to me most annoyingly and I jolt in fear, terror washing all over me. My steps slow, I am terrified but I keep going until I reach the sofa where Mom is sitting with Dad pampering her like she has gone through the worst trauma of her life. 

I look at her face, there is no sign of a wound on her face or anywhere else in her body. The stairs have been carpeted very well and it would be impossible for her to have any serious injury. 

As my mother stands up and approaches me, a wave of heat rises within me. In the next instant, I feel her hand make harsh contact with my cheek, the force of the slap sending my world spinning. 

It is a harsh reality check for me. The physical pain of the slap is accompanied by a deep emotional wound that I fear may never fully heal.

"Get out of my house before I kick you out myself!" my mother's words pierce through the air, filled with venom. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, and I try to speak, pleading for her to let me stay. 

However, the most shocking realization hits me like a storm.

"Calm down, Amanda. They might be here to pick her up…" My father's certain voice breaks through the tension, and I turn to him, my expression one of astonishment. A multitude of questions swirl in my mind.

Will they hand me over to strangers?

What if he chooses to sell me? 

What is going on with my life?

I turn to look at Sean who is darting coldly in my direction. There is a hint of regret and anger in his eyes. I am certain that he tried to reason with our parents for not sending me away. After all, he has the benefit of keeping me here. 

He is just a year older than me and in his teen years. I turn my attention back to my parents, knowing no one in this house will ever favor me. 

"Go stand by the door. I don't want to see your face!" my mother's angry words cut through the air, causing me to startle from the intensity of her tone. As I move to grab my suitcase and take a few steps, I hear Sean saying, “Wait!” I pause, and he walks over to me, arms crossed over his chest.

Sean is a handsome guy with brown hair and captivating green eyes. Freckles sprinkled across his nose, adding to his beauty. However, he undeniably inherits his mother's traits, exuding the same arrogance.

“Let me search your room first!” he says to me then turning to our parents, he waits for their opinion. When our parents give him a nod, he grabs my hand roughly, dragging me to the stairs. 

Each trauma intensifies as my heart feels squeezed in my chest, rendering me speechless.

We reach to my room and he locks the door as I stand there, fear gripping over me. Another moment passes by and he forcefully grabs my arms, pinning me against the wall, aggressively unzipping his pants. 

I feel completely exposed, standing there in utter shock. 

He pulls down my blouse and buries his face onto my neck, leaving me out of breath. Not for a moment I have felt something aroused toward him. It was always him. Lifting my skirt, Sean enters himself inside me, thrust after thrust. 

I grab his shoulders for the support, my mouth glued shut, and not a single whimper of pain escapes from them. Deep down I am torn, still sore from last night and now his way of giving me pain intensifies. 

However, the session is cut short when he is instantly done with me. Grasping my chin between his fingers, he warns me, “Don’t you dare forget about me. Ever. I will haunt you forever.”

He left me and I gathered myself, adjusting the pieces of clothing on my body. 

"William, do you think you can sell her to strangers? How much are they paying you?" my mother whispers to my dad, who clicks his tongue in response, saying, "Amanda, are you out of your mind? I am simply returning her to her biological family."

Sean’s voice cut through, “I don’t think we must send her away. This would be problematic for all of us.” I know why he is doing it. “We can sort it out. Punish her or something - instead of sending her to her real family,” I climb down the stairs, their conversation comes to my ears and I pause for a moment. 

My real family? 

Do they even want me? 

Where were they all this time? 

And why the hell are they coming to take me back? 

Can someone just ask me what the fuck I want? 

"The driver will be here soon," says my dad, his expression calm and unreadable. Emotions whirl through my mind, my heart pounding in my chest. Fear grips me, and I am utterly terrified.

I take a look at Sean who leans to the wall, his arms crossed over to his chest. There is a satisfying expression on his face and he even grins at me. 

The sudden knock on the door startles me back to reality, sending a shiver of fear down my spine. 

My dad rushes to the door, pushing me aside, and swings it open to reveal a man in a smart driver's suit standing on the doorstep. "Good day, sir. I am from the Sinclair mansion. Is Ms. Sinclair ready?" he inquires.

My dad firmly grips my arm, a faint chuckle escaping as he pulls me closer to the man. Despite his appearance of gentleness, a sharp, tingling pain shoots through my arm, but I push it out of my mind. 

I glance at the driver, who appears to be in his mid-forties, sporting a polite smile on his lips. He exudes a sense of professionalism.

My gaze searches for any other observers, and I catch sight of a sleek black car waiting for me—a Rolls Royce Phantom casually parked outside our house. 

My mother rushes to see, pushing me behind, but my dad tightens his grip on my arm, clearing his throat and announcing, "Here she is."

My mother's sweet voice reaches my ears as she says to the driver, "Uh, yeah. She is a little fragile. Please take care of her." Her face betrays a masked expression, hinting at a mix of emotions, and it almost seems like she is upset that I am leaving.