Owner of my hell

Caroline

The latent rage burning any remnant of my conscience commanding all my steps towards the obscure foolishness in mistreating his flesh, I need to see with my own eyes his immorality becoming a guilt although I doubt that the devil can feel anything in front of his own sin. I prayed, to all the gods, begged each of the bible's so-called divine archangels that these feelings be purged from my soul, excommunicated from my heart and repudiated by my morals.

I discovered belatedly that I am a prisoner of my sins, each step in this dark corridor is like a step on the way to the light, even though I am going towards hell in search of the generator of my torments. The wood that coats the heavy blade of the chef's knife transforms the girl into a vengeful, spiteful, jealous woman.

I watch the unaccustomed light escaping through the space of the open door, drawing me into the home of the beast, the silence of the mansion in nothing compares to the crazed voices of my mind screaming, fighting, vying for a place without knowing how to speak or how to act, letting only the immoral take over and guide my steps. My bare feet touch the carpet, I cross the eaves of the door without breaking the silence, the little light that illuminates comes from the closet and the moon that invades the open balcony, the heavy curtains do not even move with the cold wind.

The target of my restlessness breathes deeply lying in the middle of the bed between the ivory silk sheets, the paneling combining with the rustic wooden bed frame forming waves that lead to the coat of arms carved on the panel just above his head. His divine body naked, exposed, covered only by his sweatpants, leaving the tattoos traced in each of the curves of his chest, the piercings on his nipples shining and his flat belly, the dark hair below the navel leading to the waistband. The hands adorned by silver rings the marked jaw and the diamond earring in the right ear.

Yes, the epitome of my weakness, the destroyer of every one of my princess dreams, the one who brought down the castle of what I imagined to be the world or the hope for better days. Next to him, I am just another, just a stray mortal from the herd corrupted by the illusory beauty that coats the raw evil of this man.

Another wave of wind fills the room, waking me from my laments, bringing back the rage, the hatred, the insanity, in quick steps I cut the distance and I'm on his hip on the bed immobilizing part of his body with the tip of the knife against the right side of his chest, for even in this the devil was cursed being born with the heart on the opposite side. The green orbs analyze my face, maybe the surprise but no, nothing is able to surprise him.

- Do what you came to do Carolina. - It is not a request but an order and this revolts me in an uncontrollable way.

With the tip of the knife I dig deep into his chest, tearing the flesh in a sloppy way, making the shape I want, his grunts contained between his teeth do not go unnoticed by the maniac who wants to see his agony. I feel the beats against my ears completely lost to the blood pouring from the tattooed skin, leaving a mark of me in the only way he can remember me, in a scar filled with hatred and jealousy. The letter of my name under his damn stone heart, when I finally finish carving I raise my gaze to his orbs, the gaze of a demon his huge hand covers my wrist squeezing hard making the knife fall on the sheets.

- Don't you want to kill me Carol? - Your question is a test of my sanity, but above all a question about how lost I am.

- No.

-So you came here to make a C on my chest. - I thought you'd be more creative amore mio.

- I was... - I open a smile that will probably cause my death. - While you were talking to your brother.

At the same instant his countenance transforms from a beautiful questioning angel to the true demon that consumes each one of my energies, the one who broke my innocence. In one swift movement the strands of my hair are wrapped in his fingers, leaving my neck exposed to his treacherous tongue that runs masterfully through the artery, stirring up debauchery to play.

Surrounded by hot and fiery lips taking everything from my mouth setting my body on fire with pleasure, the blood becoming dry between us making it seem as if nothing so serious had happened, a lapse in my thinking this, for the metallic click was loud enough to cut the wave of lust.

We breathlessly parted our mouths as I tried to pull him back was caught, noticing the metal around my neck. Disbelieving I tried again, his gaze at no time shifted from mine, cold, hot, punishing, angry. I was so busy feeling him wrapped in his cloak of sin that I didn't notice his movements.

-I warned you not to talk to any man, this is your punishment. - The statement in the firm, cold voice.

The place isn't even unknown anymore after the many times I've ended up here in the last few months, but it's not enough to appease the rage.

-I am your fucking wife, not a dog! -I shout, completely irritated that we are continuing in this vicious cycle.

The man moves like an animal about to attack his prey and in this case, I am the fucking prey that feels sick with desire for him. Needing his touches again, wanting to continue where we left off, but too hurt to show any regret against his orders.

-You are mine, your voice has to sound for my ears and not for any shit.

-Nicklaus... -I sighed- Don't leave me stuck here.

I felt the tears forming to beg them I swallowed them aware that everything between us will always be between unhappy payoffs of equal proportions, our love is unhealthy, our hate is vicious. So I let him go by walking down the stairs probably seeking to take out his fury on an innocent who had paid for my sins, so I accepted his punishment without reluctance. The dried blood on my hands staining my skin is not only his, since I realized how much I was trapped under this darkness I started to share the blood shed by the hands of that devil. Unfortunate are those who cross his path, for they did not come out alive or intact, I am living proof of damnation.

I grit my teeth because the reality is that the huge letter traced on his once pristine and now bloodstained chest with a distorted shape is the clearest evidence that yes... I am as sick as he is. And the worst of it all is that within this hell I live I am completely in love with his owner.

Nicklaus Mikhail

There is a law within the mafia that rules over all others, a certain cliché about keeping enemies close and making it clear to friends that their betrayals will not be forgiven, the reason? When we show the other leniency a third party sees this gesture as weakness and incites the others to betray.

So I like to think that I follow Machiavelli's motto in being the one who elects enemies, I watch with a certain necessity the pale and helpless face of one of these fools under my moccasin, the blood dripping down his nose, bruises marking every bit of his skin as he lacks oxygen in his lungs. I bring the cigarette drinking from the nicotine the calm I need for the doubts that fill my mind.

- You know Carlo, I always imagined you were smarter. - I speak cutting the silence, bending over the man and putting out the cigarette on his cheek.

The moan of pain is all that excites me, besides the spectacle of showing everyone how a traitor dies never ceases to be pleasurable, as macabre as it may seem the wheel of power moves this way.

- Don Mikhail ... - Your voice comes out slurred. - Spare my family.

I snort out a restrained laugh, the man in his fifties should have known by now that there is no mercy I can give anyone was not something I intended even for my father.

- You should have thought better before betraying the organization. - I answer, pulling the dagger from the sheath I carry around my waist. - But don't worry, your daughter's little whore will keep you company in hell.

- She is your wife.

The man struggles screaming, but I'm already tired of this nonsense, using the blade to cut his throat from one end to the other, making blood spurt out on the floor while he drowns in his own breathless fluids.

- Hugo. - I call out to the soldier while cleaning the dagger on the dead man's clothes.

- Sir?

- Take care of the problem that is my mother-in-law and call the driver, I make it a point to deal with Mikaela.

I crack a satisfied smile, for despite the problems I have to solve with the ammunition charges hijacked by my idiot father-in-law, I have gained just one more reason to get rid of the annoying woman who thinks she is on some kind of pedestal.

There is something very unholy about marriages that ordinary people don't usually admit to: the desire to get rid of the wife and the mother-in-law, especially when both of them are two vipers dressed in the purest beauty surrounded by expensive jewelry. The lies that drip like poison from Mikaela's lips were not a bother until she imagined herself to be more than intelligent when in reality she is just one more on the list.

I walk out of the shed picking up the third piece of the suit with Dimitri, the counselor knows that although the move is risky nothing will be able to prevent the death of that woman, the most conservative families within the council expect her to receive my forgiveness. They are too foolish to understand. I was born into this corrupt world, created to destroy and to command.

I never knew the meaning of forgiveness, so why would I give it to anyone?

- I already know how to free you from the wrath of the council. - Dimitri breaks the silence when we are inside the car and the driver starts it.

I snort, because I wouldn't go looking for a pardon from them however having them by my side is always good, I remain silent until my idiot brother decides to keep talking.

- It's brother the pair of horns suits him. - His laughter inside the car annoys me, I glare at him. - The baby Mikaela is expecting is from Yago.

I lock jaw with fury, but I don't answer him, I let him enjoy himself, when I least expect it, I'll be watching his wedding with a huge smile. The streets of the city bustling with people who pretend not to know about the underworld go on and on in a constant flow. When the escalade stops in front of the luxury spa that my beloved wife likes to go to, the surrounding soldiers soon exchange suspicious glances; in five years of marriage, under no circumstances have I dedicated time to the woman who bears my last name.

Marriages are not about feelings, in reality they are contracts of coexistence, and in my case, besides needing the status to rise in the hierarchy, I needed the power that the Dobriev family brought with it. Now they are just rats that infest the streets I command and to their misfortune I am like a poison for the extermination of plagues.

I get out of the car, buttoning the second button of my suit, waving to the soldiers who soon open the door to the light-colored salon with its luxurious equipment.

I find my wife sitting on a chair with her short blond hair being combed by a dark-skinned young man.

- You are such an incompetent bitch you are not even good enough to make a cup of coffee. - Her irritating voice is the only one to be heard in the place.

She raises her hand and throws the liquid to a girl who keeps her eyes down on the ground, looking young, dark hair covering her face as she bends down to clean up the mess, so conniving... My thoughts leave the girl when Yago's huffing draws the attention of Mikaela who quickly disguises the surprise on her features and brings her hand to her barely protruding belly.

I already knew that she wasn't pregnant with my child, I haven't had sex without a condom since I started practicing besides checking all the ones I use, so I don't have the slightest hesitation when I pull the gun from my back and shoot Yago in the middle of the forehead before he can react. The chorus of screaming and crying is even exciting because of the show I provide, none of these people will leave here before confirming the obvious, the devil collects his debts.

My wife's pale, frightened face contorts into tears for her dead lover.

- Mikhail ... my love ... I ....

- Shiuuuuuuu... don't say something that will increase my anger Mikaela.

- I am pregnant with our child Mikhail - Your whiny voice only makes me even more angry.

- You can raise this child together with his father in hell. - I reply I would love to take the time to torture them if I didn't have to organize the things her father has made a point of messing up within my organization.

I raise the gun again, shooting it between his eyes, making the hairdresser who was already in a state of shock fall to the floor in despair, screaming for the blood that now stains his face, the girl who was being humiliated looks at the lifeless face with a placid expression.

I can see her expressionless face, the lifeless brown eyes, the rounded shape of her face, and the well-drawn nose, perhaps at most twenty years old, wearing a gray cleaning woman's outfit. I walk up to her interested by her lack of reaction.

- What is your name? - I ask without even noticing how close I am.

I can notice the green spot in the iris of her left eye, her hair that looks black from afar is actually a very dark shade of brown, the smooth shape that comes from the roots to the ends in a wavy shape, and not even her carotid artery shows whether she is nervous or not.

- Carolina - Her voice doesn't sound afraid and this only intensifies the beast's desire to make her afraid.

- You're coming with me. - I declare smugly.

Her mouth opens twice, but she can't seem to find a voice, holding her arm I lift her off the ground before puddles of blood start to stain her pants, dragging her with me to the car, I give a look to Dimitri who nods in agreement.

Finally I am free of Mikaela and ready to do some cleaning up inside the Bratva, I throw the girl into the back seat of the scalad, to make everything better I have gained a new unexpected toy.

Carolina

Some days should have the notion that leaving home is not an option, however, for an orphan this is impossible, especially when it depends on two jobs to be able to keep without having to resort to selling drugs or prostitution, something that I've seen a lot of colleagues look for in high school. Today, once again I had to put up with the disaffection of Madame Mikhail, everyone knows what your husband works with and even if my will was to pull his wires one by one would never do something like this.

However when the first shot sounded, I was unable to keep my gaze on the ground, in the middle of the soldier's forehead there was a bullet mark making the blood flow to the bridge of the nose, his large and heavy body falling to the ground with a heavy thud. I let loose the air forcefully thinking of surviving one more day of work to be able to go to university at night, none of my student debts will pay by miracle.

I joined forces and prayed, I believe I prayed for the first time in the last ten years, a short prayer asking God to allow me to survive another day, so that this moment would become just another nightmare in the quota of sleepless nights. It was when the squeaky voice of the customer who mistreated me with refinements of cruelty while throwing hot coffee on my clothes attracted all my attention. The burning of the hot liquid was forgotten by the desperate look on her pale face, her mouth painted red spoke something that was inaudible to me and once again I was sure that God would not come to my aid, wishing not to endure her humiliations.

Apparently I have a certain affinity with the demon, since the next moment I watched the bullet go through the space between his eyes, making Nuno's scream reverberate finally bringing my hearing back to the present. When I came out of the torpor I found the greenest eyes I have ever seen in life, bright as two spheres, the angelic face sculpted by the beard well cut and the shaggy strands giving an even greater charm to their features.

A single moment of foolishness and could never imagine being condemned one day, in reality I did not even realize to be responding until now to being in a car with the unknown who shot two people less than an hour ago. I watch my hands against my knees and feel my heart rising to my mouth in uncontrolled beats, the streets go by too fast, I lose control of my breath, I feel like I'm falling or breaking into pieces again.

That old sensation, the same torment, the reddish face returns to my mind as the blue eyes full of malice analyze every part of my body, use my arms to hug me trying to protect me from something I do not know, do not understand, but would soon understand. The black dots begin to appear finally making the image of that worm disappear from my memory, I hear a voice outside but I'm too lost inside myself.

It's when I'm about to break that I feel the heat enveloping my body in a completely strange and at the same time welcoming way, I want to scream and beg you to let me go but just feel more welcomed, Touching the strands of my hair soothes the frantic beats of my chest. As I blink frantically back to see the partition that separates the front seats.

- Just take a breath.

- Thank you. - I can answer.

- Don't thank me girl I usually cause panic attacks for less than you saw.

I sigh heavily and end up inspiring the expensive and woody perfume, mixed with nicotine and maybe alcohol.

- Unfortunately my crisis was not because of you. - I admit softly

What seems to awaken man to the position in which we find ourselves: Embraced. Quickly he returns to his place as I lift my chin finding his suspicious look, so I wait for the question.

- And what other reason would that be?

I hush up a laugh for predictability, from an early age I learned to be pragmatic and despite always seeking to see the best in people some things ended up shaping me too strongly. So I decided to be a doctor, dedicate my life to helping others by doing my best always without waiting for anything in return.

- Answer girl! - Your authoritative voice has taken me from daydreams.

- I'm sorry sir, but I don't want to answer. - I shuddered rolling my fingers against the fabric of the worn gray pants.

The angelic face contorted revealing the teeth aligned, I closed my eyes imagining that I could win some slap as the richest clients of the salon usually do when they are irritated and need someone to take it out. But the slap did not come the heavy air and the warm breath against my lips attracted all my attention, I opened my eyes looking at the green irises so close to the fury expressing only by the movement of the nose to release the air.

- Who beat you there? - Questioned and the breath minty reached an unknown point inside me.

- Who did not beat me there.- I could answer without averting my eyes feeling the heart racing again.

The man went away again hiding his face to the window while I stood like a fool watching the profile of his body shaped by the suit, the fingers tattooed with some rings that I recognized to be expensive.

- You will work in my house. - It's not a question, actually I believe it's an order.

- What can I ask you? - I try to stay neutral.

- What can you do besides being the pet of the city's socialites?

I swallow dry with some pain, finally stopping to observe his profile and his rings turning to the window, people walking down the street, each with dreams to be realized. So I puff up my chest and answer even though I know I can be the subject of some joke as I have been so many times.

- I am a medical student, in the morning I am a pet and at night I am intern at the central hospital. - I say the last part without being able to hide the sarcasm. - I do not believe I have any use in the business of the owner of the city.

- If you know I own this town then you know my word is law. - Your authoritative voice fills the car. - I need someone who knows how to sew, you know how to do that?

- Yes, sir. - I swallow dry terrified by the type of seam he refers to.

- Great, so your job starts today.

I turn to him quickly, his hard gaze leaves no questions, but fear does not come out so fast.

- I need you to suture a shot I grazed during the night. - Clarify.

I bite my nervous lower lip, but unable to say anything that goes against it, the nuns always said that going against the demon is harder than going with it. At that moment, the car stops, I have no time to answer because a man is already opening the door, I begin to move away when he himself pushes the other of my vision and extends his hand. Again as an offering going towards the very ordeal held in the firm and warm hand, without deviating from the feline gaze that makes my legs become unstable.

When I can finish getting off the car high, I end up slipping and falling forward being held by him, I feel his nose going through the strands of my hair until his mouth is against the lobe of my ear.

- You seem to be the well of folly. - The low, hoarse and low voice notes once again what I realized hours ago and to make matters worse sends spasms through my spine, warming my lower abdomen.

Sigh unable to bounce, because if it was lucid enough would already be embarking for the north pole to escape from it and especially would have accepted this side that screams danger.