COLD TRAP

MIRABELLA

Two weeks.

I claw at my face, smash my head into the hard surface of the wall, and punch my fist into the same wall over and over again. A new kind of sorrow engulfs me and the urgent need to mourn my mother all over again surfaces.

In all the two weeks I’ve been locked up in this room and tortured mentally, I punished myself day after day and night after night, because! couldn’t do anything else to help myself. I mourned myself like a dead person while I’m still very much alive; And my sister and father watched me in amusement as I broke myself inch alter inch,

Today is another dreadful day, a day to be faced by another well thought out mental and emotional torture.

I’m sitting on the cold floor, with my knees bent upward and my head in between my thighs. My arms wrap around my legs to help hold them together as I cry myself to shit. The injury inflicted on me by Annabella might have stopped stinging so much, but my heart is still broken into unrecoverable pieces.

They mess with my head every chance they get; my sister and father. How f**d up in the head does one have to be to inflict the kind of mental pain my so called family has successfully inflicted on me?

I’ll most certainly not recover from this, at least not anytime soon.

The door pushes open and Annabella struts in with a dramatic sway to her hips, I spot five pairs of feet following behind her but I don’t care to look up at them. I sniffle some more before calming myself and muttering, “so?”

wounds are almost healed,” Annabella confirms as she tuts. “It would’ve been great news if the situation was different but it’s such a shame. You do remember what I had said about making messes, do you not, sister?” She mocks.

I grit my teeth and my eyes redden, “get on with it then! Ruin your own sister, Annabella. You seriously think you can do more damage than you’ve already done? Be my guest.” I hiss.

Annabella’s laugh is hysteria, her shoulders vibrating from the depth of her laughter. “Great speech,” she thins her lips to contain the giggles threatening to escape them. “You recall how you weren’t impressed with the show I and father displayed? Well, I’m giving you an opportunity to display yours. Teach me how to entertain you, sister, or better still, entertain me.” She moves out of the way and five hefty men begin approaching me with huge animalistic grins plastered across their faces as though they’ve been presented with their meal.

I push myself back and my brain blacks out. My eyes turn ice cold and all I see is red. “None of you will touch me,” my voice comes out in a monotone and I suck in a deep breath. “Nobody, absolutely no one would dare lay a finger on me!”

I’m startled by the thickness of my voice and what’s even more startling is how I rise to my feet like a demon released from its binds. I’d take anything but I’ll not take anyone putting their hands on me without my consent. Everything in my life always manages to slip out of my grasp without my knowing or consent, but my innocence, my body is out of the question for anyone.

The innocence of my body is the only thing I’ve been able to call my own since I lost my mother, and I’ll not have it any other way, not now,

not ever.

Of course I’m scared shitless but I’d rather die than have these low ranking soldiers put their hands on me. I am the wife of the Don after all, never-minding the situation at hand.

YoYo

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One of the men charges at me, fully enraged and ready to get it on. But before we can get into any action, the door pushes open and my father runs in frantically, startling everyone. He orders the men to stand down, at the same time, ordering my sister to get me ready as the Denaro’s have arrived to take me back.

All the men including my father exit the room leaving I and my sister engrossed in our battle of glaring. I’m fuming and so is she. But hers is because she couldn’t hurt me to her heart’s content, and mine, because I’m still unable to accept that my sister could nurture the idea of watching me get raped by those many men.

Denial.

The simple way to put-I’m still in denial.

“They always choose you, do they not?” My sister utters maliciously as she leads me downstairs to meet my husband. My saving grace.

My body trembles vigorously as I lock eyes with Matteo, he looks even more beautiful and intimidating. And the tight lipped smile he offers when I’m at close proximity with him warms my heart.

Right now, I look at him and see my hero. If he didn’t arrive when he did, I’d have been a meal for those animals to feast on and for that reason alone, I’m grateful to him.

Matteo leans down, whispering, “you have no idea how much I’ve yearned looking into those majestic, exquisite orbs of yours.” He scoffs, fanning the side of my face with his breath, causing me to shiver. “You look extremely worn out, Mirabella, still beautiful regardless.” He finishes before standing to his full height.

The men go back and forth, arguing about why my father would trick them. My father being the conniving bastard he is, successfully comes up with the most understandable excuse as to why the switch was done.

Matteo on the other hand doesn’t buy into his excuse but drops the matter either way. There and then I sign the divorce papers separating Annabella Marcelo from Matteo Denaro, and sign the prenuptial agreement joining Mirabella Marcelo to Matteo Messina Denaro.

Now, I’m going to get to know my husband for him, and he’ll get to know me for me.

For the first time in a long time, the feeling of fulfillment engulfs me and I’m happy through and through.

Halfway through the drive back to the Denaro’s estate, all attempts to hold back my emotions fail and Matteo must notice because he orders his driver to clear the car from the road and step out.

Once the driver is out, I throw my arms around him, a sob breaking through me. “Thank you so much, Matteo,” my body shakes as sobs vibrate through me. “You have no idea what you did back there, if you hadn’t come, I’d—l.”

Iget a hold of myself and thin my lips before I’m successful at blurting out something that might cause a great stir in the underworld. “You’d what?” Matteo’s voice is thick with rage and curiosity, as though he’s somewhat aware of the atrocity I was about to spill.

“N-nothing. Sorry about that, I’ve just been out of it lately.” I rush my excuse and retrieve my body from his. He stares at me knowingly for a few minutes before calling his driver back in.

We had arrived at the estate thirty minutes ago, and I spent all that time conversing with Matteo’s family, apologizing to them for not being

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genuine from the onset. They seemed to totally understand.

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One thing they don’t know is this, I’m still not being truthful nor have I opened up about my supposed mission in their lives. But at least don’t have to conceal my identity anymore.

I stand in front of the huge mirror in my bathroom and peel my sweat shirt off, I grab the waistband of the matching sweatpants and pull it off leaving myself bare as I observe my ruptured body through the mirror.

Both my palms cover my face and a sob wrecks through me, about two minutes in and I feel a featherlight touch on my skin, causing me to startle, abruptly raising my head so that I’m looking back into the mirror.

I can only manage a gasp when I find Matteo standing behind me with a stoic expression as he observes every dent on my skin. He observes every scar and pays them the kind of attention that makes me squirm.

Regret immediately washes over him because he now realizes that this happened to me because he let me go. He sent me away and I faced the worst of the worst.

Matteo locks eyes with me through the mirror and his eyes slowly but steadily transform until they’re bloodshot red. His voice chills my

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“Who did this to you?”

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