Missing Mafia Princess Novel – “Good to have you back our Principessa.” Allesa laid on the red sheets. Bruises. Dark colored Bruises. Gashes, scars, all lining up her stomach. “W-what are those.” Her mother, who now walked into the room, stared at Alle’s stomach in shock. Her father looked down and frowned, a fire gradually building in his eyes. Just like her 6 brothers. Allesa’s eyes then slowly opened, now realizing that her whole family was standing in her room. “Who did that.” one of her brothers growled out. She was their everything, their baby, their love, their mafia princess. But, when someone made a grave mistake, that will cost his life.
Allesa Pov I laid on the cold ground, panting heavily. This had to be the worst beating yet. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to forget the pain that radiated around my body. “You worthless bimbo! Get up and make me some food!” My foster father, Adam Wither, growled out from the living room. I took a deep breath, and shakily put my hands on the ground and pushed my body up and off the dirty floor. My legs felt as if I would fall under the pressure at any moment, but I held myself up, using my hands to balance against the wall. “Yes sir.” I whimpered, taking a shaky step, and then limping. “Hurry up!” He screamed, making me squeak and limp faster to the kitchen as tears poured out of my eyes, blood seeping through my raggedy shirt from a particularly large gash across my stomach. I sighed and grabbed some soup from the rotting, wooden cupboard.
I took a small, rusty pan and poured the contents in with some water and then turned the stove on, one that barely worked. I pulled my shirt up to see the gash still pouring my life essence out. I frowned and looked around, eventually finding an old, torn towel that looked like it was on its way to the trash. I picked it up off the counter, wincing as my arm moved to grab it, and then pressed it against the wound. I hissed as the towel made contact with the wound, making me bite my tongue and close my eyes. ‘Don’t cry, Don’t cry.’ I repeated over and over to myself. “Is that food done, you worthless brat!” He screamed from the living room. “A-almost, sir!” I called back, trying to contain my cries of pain. I took a spoon, and put it in the pot, stirring to make sure it was cooked. “You have five minutes! If it’s not done by then, you will get another beating!” He called out, making me cry silent tears at the fear I felt. “Please, hurry.” I harshly whispered to the pot as the soup bubbled.
I waited patiently, as the timer then dinged an unpleasant sound, making me wince. I quickly grabbed a bowl and poured most of the soup in it. I then went to a drawer and pulled out a small silver spoon and set it in the bowl. “Y-your food is done, sir.” I whimpered, limping my way to the living room. He grumbled and sat in his old, creaky, green fabricated recliner, waiting for me to bring him his food. I hobbled as quickly as I could, and set the bowl down on his end table near his chair. The man held a scowl (like always) and picked up the bowl, steam rising from it. I gently knelled by his chair, waiting for further instructions. He took the handle of the spoon and lifted it, as well as the the contents of the soup, into his mouth.
He chewed the bits of food like the carrots and beef, when suddenly his face turned an even angrier shade of red. “You idiot!” He shouted, spit flying everywhere. “This is the nastiest soup ever! You’re a worthless bimbo!” He screamed, throwing the bowl of sup into a wall, the soup sliding down the wall slowly. ‘Another thing for me to clean.’ I scowled to myself. “You’re in for it this time, girl.” He spat, grabbing me by my hair and dragging me through the halls. I cried and pleaded for him to let go as my hands scratched at his wrists. “Please!” I pleaded. “I can’t take another one!” I cried out, tears falling one after another. “You should have thought of that!” He chuckled darkly. “This will teach you to behave.” He opened a wooden door that I became familiar with as the play room. My eyes widened as I struggled more. “Please! No! I’ll do anything!”
I pleadingly screamed but he only laughed at my misery. He opened the wooden door, dragged me inside, and then slammed it shut. His laughter filled the dark room, almost illuminating his evil persona. “We are gonna have so much fun.” He chuckled. “Please.” I whimpered. The sound of a whip cracking made me freeze. Then the snap of it landing on my body hit. ‘Anyone, help me.’ – My eyes opened as I moved my hand to wipe my eyes, but the gesture only made me moan in pain. My hands shakily pressed against the floor, desperate to leave the room that smelled of blood. But, my hands let my body down and made me fall once more. “Why, me.” I silently cried, using my hands and slowly crawling out, no matter how bad it hurt. My hands were bloody and cut up from his…play time. Luckily, the door was open, so I could just leave. He was probably asleep, so I had enough time to take a cold shower, address my wounds, and then leave for school. I crawled out of the room and then, with all my might, pushed my body up so I could walk (well, limp) all the way to my room.
‘One shaky step at a time’ I said to myself. I slowly walked to my room, desperate not to make a sound and awake master. I walked into my room that had no door and walked into the bathroom that was built in. I took shaky steps and then painfully, peeled my clothes off so I could get a shower in. I laid the clothes on the counter, and then turned the nob so cold water would rush out. I was never allowed to have a warm shower. He said that bimbo’s like me aren’t deserving enough. I then stepped in, pulling the shower curtain so it closed, making it so water wouldn’t get on the floor. I hissed as the water touched my wounds, blood running down my body, and then into the drain. I took my hands and lathered some soap on them, gently running them down my body so the wounds wouldn’t get infected and so I wouldn’t smell like blood. Some of them, like the one’s I got on my back, couldn’t get cleaned so my only real hope is that they don’t get infected.
But, nothing can go right for me, so they’ll probably be infected in a day or so. Tears mixed in with the water as I lathered my head in soap, hissing when I touched a particular spot. I then rinsed the soap out and turned the water off, watching as it went from full blast, to small drops. I pulled the white, torn curtain open and grabbed a small towel that was scratchy and rough against my wounds. I sighed and stepped out, turning to my mirror and looking at my colorfully bruised body. See, master never made a hit that he knew I couldn’t fix with makeup of some sort. Like my face, I could easily say I ran into a locker, or a bookshelf if a faint outline of a bruise appeared. He also never bought me clothes that didn’t cover my whole body, which was why it was hard in the summer.
I grabbed the concealer and dabbed it lightly onto the spots with bruises, rubbing the makeup in so it looked like my everyday skin. A sudden wave of dizziness made me lightly drop the concealer on the counter as my hand’s grabbed on to the counter so i wouldn’t fall over. I took a deep breath and then sighed, picking the concealer up and starting again. I then bandaged my wounds, making sure all were covered (I hope so anyway). I walked out of my bathroom and grabbed a gray, long sleeved shirt with a pair of underwear, bra, and black sweatpants. Not fashionable, but you live with what you got. I grabbed my jacket, and with a great amount of pain, put it on and threw the hood up so it covered my hair and face. It was a simple, black hoodie.
I grabbed my red backpack that was sitting on my bed (Just a mattress with a piece of fabric for a blanket) and walked out of my room and out the front door, careful to not wake the master. It hurt my hand to hold it, but better than it pushing against my back. When I made it outside, I closed the door and sighed, then started walking down the familiar path to my school. It was a nice day out, chilly, but nice nonetheless. It’s November here in Everett, and while the sun may be shining, mother nature has other plans. I hug my hoodie close and shudder as a cold breeze sweeps across my body and nips at my nose. I see the largish school come to view, with familiar students walking into it to escape the cold air. This is my escape from life, from that house. I may not have any friends, but it’s better then my home life. – School was finally out, so now to head…home.
I took a step into the chilly afternoon air, shuddering as a gust of wind blew my brown hair around.I held on tightly to my backpack looking down at the ground. Me, not looking where I was going, failed to notice a group of shady men outside a convenience store i pass by on my home. “Hey, little lady.” One of the men whistled. I held my head down and quickened my pace, hoping they’d leave me alone, but no, my life just can’t be easy. “Look at me, brat!” I squeaked and looked up, meeting his almost black eyes. He whistled and walked closer to me, making me back up into an alleyway, right where they wanted me. “P-Please, don’t.” I whimpered. The man laughed and walked closer to me. I turned around to run, but he grabbed the handle on top of my backpack and threw me into a wall, making my already sore head, even sorer.
I cried out in pain as my back hit the backpack harshly. It was probably bleeding, but let’s hope it’s not. He put both his hands near the side of my head and smiled.”You must taste delicious.” He snickered, as well as his friends. I whimpered and closed my eyes, waiting for him to do something, but instead I felt a gush of air and a grunt of displeasure, making me open my eyes. A man in a suit held the other man by his neck against a wall. “Hurting a child, that’s sick.” I then heard the snap of a bone. His neck. He was dead.
I whimpered, and scooted further into the wall, even though it hurt my back. I looked over to where the other men were, but saw another man in a suit. I then frantically looked to the man in front of me. He was staring at me. I whimpered and looked for a way to run. “Hey, Hey.” He whispered. “I’m not gonna hurt you, okay люблю (love). I started shaking as he took a slow step to me and knelt down. I looked into his eyes and saw…mine? My hood was still up as small wisps of hair flew out of it. “Can you tell me your name?” He asked, offering me a kind smile.