𝘗 𝘙 𝘖 𝘓 𝘖 𝘎 𝘜 𝘌

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To all the good girls who go feral over obsessed and deranged mafia men.

To all the good girls who go feral over obsessed and deranged mafia men

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𝐒𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐠𝐨. 

𝗥 𝗢 𝗦 𝗔 

🂡

"You're ruining her fucking childhood!"

"Ruining? I'm trying to protect her!"

They were arguing again. Arguing about me again.

I was sat in the corner of the L-shaped sofa in the living room, my forehead buried into my knees and my hands over my ears.

Please stop arguing. Please stop being so angry.

"How are you protecting her when you've had her locked up in this damn house her whole life?!"

"I'm protecting her by keeping her away from the hell spawn trampling all over God's Earth!"

He sighed deeply. Papa was getting irritated. "And what are you gonna do when she becomes an adult, huh? She's going to end up walking into the men's bathroom thinking it was the bloody library!"

And so they continued to shout and bicker with each other. André entered the living room not too long after. "Rosalie?" He called softly and I lifted my head a little. His face drooped while he came towards me as he noticed my tear stained cheeks.

"Listen I-" André began in a hushed voice when he sat beside me until he was interrupted by the deafening echo of glass shattering ran throughout the house. Then after a brief silence was an ear splitting scream - the type of screams you would expect to hear in the pits of the Underworld. Mama would only ever let out such a shriek when she was either hurt or witnessed something even remotely blasphemous.

André looked back at me with an expression of terror and deep concern, "Rosa, you need to get out of here. Now. God knows what's going to happen next." He said, standing up again while trying to pull me up with him.

"But Mama-" I started, my voice wavering as I head a sudden thud coming from upstairs.

"There's no time for buts, Rosa, you know what happened last time. Please, go out into the garden until I tell you it's safe."

Mama very rarely let me go out into the back garden even if Papa had given me permission. I shot André one last distressed look before hopping off the sofa and dashing out the living room door. Now there were multiple thuds and the screaming of words I did not understand.

I almost tripped over the hem of my ruffled nightdress while scampering over to the grand double doors leading to the garden. I pulled down the handle hard, slipped through the gap and ran. And I kept running until my lungs lacked oxygen and my legs lacked strength.

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