THE DEVIL WEARS MY RING

I have gotten used to the coldness of the tiles, i almost laughed when my step mother flinched when she stepped on the tiles barefooted because she couldn't find her fluffy slippers.

I scrubbed the same patch of floor again and again, not because it was dirty, but because I had nothing else to do. Thinking about it now, i realized there is absolutely nothing here worth staying for, no siblings or loved ones.

My knees were sore. My fingers numb. But in this house, pain was the only thing that ever stayed consistent.

Greta's voice tore through the hallway like a blade.

"You useless girl! No doubt your mother raised you to be this stupid and useless" i hear this every time.

I didn't flinch. at least not this time.

I lowered my head and kept scrubbing. The scent of bleach burned my nose,and my palms were peeling due to a combination of different detergent and bleach I use in cleaning , but I welcomed the sting. It was the only reminder that I was still here, still breathing.

Sometimes I wondered if dying would hurt more than living in this house.

But trust me, I know the answer. We need a new mop stick in this house but, i don't know how to face Greta and talk to her about it, this particular mop is already doing the opposite of its purpose, the strands now follow me as i mop and i hate to admit that i will have to do another round of cleaning. As i was about turning to do the needful, unaware of the fact that my oversized skirt had hooked the sharp steel edge of the bucket I was using in cleaning, all the dirty water I have in the bucket poured on the tiles I have been scrubbing and mopping since I woke up making me slip from and falling with a heavy ad embarrassing thud on the wet floor. "Damn!!" I spewed out of frustration, unable to stand up immediately. I whimpered in pain and anger "I get it now" Everything in this house is aware that I don't belong here and are trying their best to frustrate me outta here. Cause what the fuck just happened, I haven't recovered from one and now this?!" crawled to the shelf by the wall and held it for support, my legs still shaking from the fall. I stood up, not upright but was able to get my ass from the pool of dirty water around me. I didn't know where to start.

They say home is where the heart is but what happens when your heart doesn't even want to stay? Lol, home my foot!

I couldn't remember the last time I laughed. Not the fake chuckles I gave Renzo when he tried to lighten the mood or tease me about how grumpy I always looked. The real kind, the one that bubbles from somewhere deep inside and catches you by surprise. I think I left that version of myself behind the day my mother died. I was just 10 but trust me I could stillremember those moments, probably my memory kept them intact to keep me sane and bring anytime I am at the verge of loosing it as a human.

She used to braid my hair every Sunday after church, humming softly, her hands gentle. She had a soft voice and kind eyes. I remember the way she used to tuck me in at night and whisper that everything would be okay. She lied.

Nothing has been okay since she left.

I don't even visit her grave anymore not because I don't want to, but because Greta made it clear I had no right. "You keep living in the past, you'll never have a future, " she snapped at me once when I dared to mention my mother. But the truth is, my past was warmer than my present.

My eyes darted to the pile of sealed packages Greta received yesterday. Thank God. The water hasn't reached them yet. I grab a rag and block the stream before it can touch anything important.

If those boxes got wet, I wouldn't survive the night.

Sadness is my perpetual emotion.

I don't remember what happiness feels like anymore. The only time I feel safe and normal is when I'm with Renzo. He's my only escape from this place, even if only for a few stolen hours. But Greta rarely lets me out. She says girls like me attract trouble.

Renzo... he's different. When I feel like disappearing and leaving this pothole, his words are the only thing that hold me here. He always says, "You're stronger than this house. Stronger than them.

" And for a moment, I believe him.

But it never lasts. Trust me it never did.

Sometimes I think Greta is possessed or cursed. The way she turned my father's heart against me was almost supernatural. It took her just a few months after marrying him. Now he can barely look me in the eye, as though my presence disgusts him.

Sometimes I wonder if she was sent from some dark realm, appointed just to destroy me slowly.

And maybe it's working.

The house is silent again. Greta has retreated to her room, probably to sip her wine and scroll through pictures of other people's children, the ones she wishes were hers.

I gather the wet clothes and mop again, more out of habit than purpose. The mess is halfway cleaned when I hear something voices.

Not yelling. Not insults.

Just... talking.Curious, I move closer to the stairs. I know Greta doesn't usually speak to my father in a calm tone unless she wants something-or unless it's something serious. Their voices are low, murmuring. But I caught enough.

...She doesn't need to know yet, " Greta says. "We'll tell her the night before. It's better that way".

Tell me what?

My heart thuds quietly against my chest.

My father's voice is faint but firm. "She's not a child, Greta. We should have told her weeks ago. The arrangements have been finalized. Everything is set."

I freeze.

Arrangements?

"What matters is that we get her out of here, " Greta says. "She'll be someone else's problem then. The family is wealthy, powerful. She won't have to clean another floor in her life."

There's a short silence before she adds, "It's not like she has a future here anyway."

My breath catches.

Wealthy... powerful... arrangements?

Suddenly, the dirty water, the bruises, the silence-it all makes sense.

They're trying to get rid of me.

And not just by yelling or hitting.

They're marrying me off.

Ariana POV

"And that, Nevio, is the only way your debt will be paid."

The husky voice of a foreigner drifted through the thin wall of my father's study, pounding in my chest like a barrel drum. I pressed myself against the cold plaster, my breath caught in my throat. I had been on my way to the kitchen for a glass of water, a fleeting moment of freedom in the stiff silence of our house, when I heard the muffled voices. My curiosity, a fatal flaw in my existence, had paralyzed me.

"But... my daughter?" My father, Nevio, was frail. His voice barely rose above a whisper. It was a tone I recognized too well the sound of surrender. A sound of a man giving in for his own sake, at the expense of everyone else. A cold dread began to twist in my stomach.

"She is a commodity, Nevio. A tool. Nothing more."

The most annoying voice of Greta made my stomach churned "Leone Maurizio does not ask twice. He wants your daughter. And you owe him."

The world tilted beneath me. My name wasn't spoken, but I felt it. My father only had one daughter. To Leone Maurizio? The name struck me like a blow. Even in our small, god-abandoned corner of the world, whispers of the Maurizio family and the MM Mafia were enough to curdle the blood. Leone Maurizio was a ghost story, a threat whispered to scare misbehaving children. A legend of violence and cruelty. And I, Ariana Aldo, was to be handed over to him.

My hand flew to my mouth, stifling a gasp. My eyes burned, but the tears hadn't fallen yet. My body felt frozen, nerves screaming in silence. I heard papers shuffle, the creak of my father's chair.

"She's... she's just twenty," my father stammered almost weakly at least the last thread of being a father took him unaware

"And untouched," the foreign voice snapped back, a cold amusement laced in his tone. It sent shivers down my spine. "A blank canvas for the name of Maurizio. The deal is sealed, Nevio. She will be taken to the house of Maurizio by dawn. If you resist, there will be consequences you cannot afford."

A dry, humorless laugh followed, and then the door slammed shut.

The conversation was over.

My fate was sealed.

I stepped back from the wall, my legs too weak to hold me. The hallway, usually just a dim passage, now stretched on like a tunnel into darkness. My heart, once pounding wildly, now felt like a stone in my chest, dragging me down. Sold. Like furniture. Like trash.

The words echoed through my mind:

"A commodity."

"The price for your foolishness."

"Delivered by dawn."

My stepmother Greta emerged from the kitchen, her eyes narrowing when she saw me.

"What are you doing, girl? Back to your room! And don't even think about causing trouble tonight. Your father has had a long day."

Her voice was a hiss, sharp and bitter. She had never liked me a living reminder of the woman she replaced. Her cruelty had been constant since my mother died when I was ten, an endless gnawing on my spirit. But even her venom couldn't match what had just happened.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. I simply turned and staggered up the creaky wooden stairs to my cold, confining room the same room that once felt like a prison now felt like a holding cell for my execution.

They were not gentle gashes. They were raw, coarse heartbreaks that tore from my body, each one substantiation of times of suppressed pain, neglect, and now raw fear. I buried my face in my knees, my thin gown little protection against the bite of night. My mama 's face flashed before me – her warm smile, the sensation of her hand wrapped tightly around mine. She had been my gemstone, my one storage of untainted love. When she failed, a part of me failed with her. My father had changed, come distant, cold, and also, under the education of Greta, outright cruel. I had learned how to come unnoticeable, how to live by fading into the background, by absorbing every blow, every inhuman personality, every empty regard.

This was different. This was not just physical neglect or emotional abuse. This was the stripping from me of my life as I knew it, the forced relinquishing of my tone. I was to be handed over to the mercy of a monster, a man whose very name inseminated fear in hardened culprits. What was he going to do to me? Would he be as cruel as my father, as poisonous as Greta? Worse? The unknown was an open mouth, ready to swallow me whole.

I supplicated to a God that I had no idea was paying attention, to a mama that I supplicated would notice me and look after me. I supplicated for a phenomenon, for freedom, for someone, anyone, to deliver me from this hell. My voice broke, my throat raw, but the prayers went on, critical, hopeless gasps into the empty room.

The twinkles ticked by, each beat of the old grandfather timepiece in the corridor a sledgehammer to my fragile stopgap. The moonlight shifted, casting new murk on the walls. My heartbreaks at last beggared, leaving my eyes fluffy and my face smeared with dust. Fatigue, heavy and rough, began to descend upon me. Sleep was yet a distant dream, an insolvable luxury.

I looked out of the window, past the involved branches of the old oak tree that scratched at the panes, past the rent of the moon held like a wicked crescent in the black sky. Escape. The breath caught in my mind, a transitory, unrealistic thought. Where would I go to escape? I had no plutocrat, no connections, no bone who would be bothered to save me. The rest of the world outside our old, wrecked house was vast and intimidating, and I was a little, fractured-off girl.

A gentle valve on the window made me jump. My head turned round, my heart pounding into my mouth. Had my father or Greta come to visit me? But the knocking was too light, too symphonious. It was n't the furious barrel of knuckles.

An alternate knock, harder this time. I pulled myself upright, my body tense and sore, and crept vocally to the window. Foggy old glass, but through the smut and the grease, I could just see a figure. Altitudinous, familiar. My heart stuck in my throat.

It was Renzo.

My arcobaleno. My beam in the darkness of my actuality. He was the only one ever to have looked at me, truly looked, truly loved. We met by chance, months before, when I'd snuck out to the business. He was a traveling trafficker, he would tell me, with a kind smile and eyes that held more depth than I had ever witnessed ahead. He would always be so kind, so compassionate. He was my secret cherished thing, my stopgap I cleaved to. He was the reason I could still believe in virtuousness.

He rapped again, and also he gestured for me to open the window.

" Ariana," he gasped, his own voice soft and raspy, with a heat I'd no way felt before. He hooked his leg over the stave, as smooth and silent as a cat, and stepped into my room. He was dressed in black, and the darkness masked his face, but I knew his eyes, indeed in the dusk. They were generally warm and comforting. Tonight, they blazed with hot determination.

" Renzo? Why are you then?" I rumored back, my throat raw from crying." It's not safe. If my father"

He put a stop to me, his hand on my arm, establishment but not hurting." No time for that, mia cara." His eyes were bottomless, burning, drinking in my sanguine- rimmed cheeks and fluffy eyes." I heard. I heard everything."

My heart sank further, if possible. So he knew. He knew about the fear that awaited me.

" They are dealing with me, Renzo," I had the strength to say, the words bitter- tasting as ash." To the Maurizios. To Leone Maurizio." Another drift of forlornness swept over me.

He pulled me against him, his arms around me, a comforting heat that for an instant dulled the slashing edges of fear." I know, love. I know. And that is why I am here." He rested back on his heels, his hands framing my face, pulling me to look into his eyes." You must go with me. Now. We can escape. Tonight."

My mind reeled. Run down? With Renzo? It had been such a crazy notion just a couple of twinkles agone , and then now it was a shining, last- rustle stopgap. But it was intimidating, also. I had no way been out of this house, this small city. The veritably size of the vast, unknown world was dispiriting.

" Run? Where do we go?" I breathed." They'll catch us. The Maurizio family. they are far and wide. They'll no way release me.".

He shook his head, a grim line to his mouth." Not if we are clever. I have been planning for this for some time now, Ariana. I knew there was a possibility that this day would come. I've means, connections. We can vanish. Make a new life, nearly far removed from all of this." His thumb stroked at my impertinence, swiping down a moping gash." A life where you are safe. Where you are loved. Where you are free."

His words were attar to my bruised soul, a guarantee of a life I had only ever imagined. Freedom. Love. Security. These were luxuries I had known. Yet the fear was still a bite mass in my belly. The name Maurizio was a weight.

But. my father." I started, and also stumbled. Indeed uttering it, the words felt concave. My father had vended me. He'd chosen between his child and plutocrat. Why should I watch out for him?

Renzo's eyes turned cold, a spark of something undecipherable flashing across them." Your father made his choice, Ariana. He made it rather than you. You owe him nothing, and Greta. she will be thrilled to be relieved of you." His tone was laced with bitterness I had not anticipated. It was rougher than I'd ever heard him talk, harder.

He was correct, naturally. They would not notice my absence. They would probably indeed celebrate it. The consummation, though agonizing, also filled me with an odd feeling of freedom. There was nothing to keep me then. No love, no duty, no provocation to remain.

" Why not? why not us?" I gasped, the flush rising up my cheeks in malignancy of the terror. We would always have a secret affair, stolen ganders and furtive pledges. He would make me pledges of a future, but always one of fantasy. Now, it was a hopeless reality.

A soft smile brushed his lips, but his eyes did n't soften." We will be together, Ariana. Always. That is what I want. That has always been what I want." He put my hand into his own, his fritters interlocking with mine. His hand was warm, comforting." I can keep you safe. I'll keep you safe. But you have to trust me. You have to come now."

There was no mistaking the urgency in his voice." Before dawn," the man had said. Dawn was n't far from here.However, I would be turned over to Leone Maurizio, something I could hardly indeed begin to understand, If I did n't go with Renzo.

My mind spun, a vortex of fear, of stopgap, and the ghost of an old love. Renzo was my retreat, my secret solace. He was the only bone who had ever shown me glimmerings of another actuality. He was my first love, my only friend. And now, he was offering me a chance to flee the teeth of a monster.

But within me, a small, uncertain voice was nudging me with a query. Renzo had always been mysterious, popping up and also fading just as snappily without an explanation. His life, he would explain to me, was complex. He never spoke of his family, or where in the world he actually abided He was just. Renzo. The traveling trafficker. And yet he was well apprehensive of the Maurizio family, my father's debt. He sounded to have a network, coffers, that did not relatively fit the simple story he would tell me.

Was I frenetic? Stupid? My mama had advised me always against being too trusting, against the wickedness in the world beyond our walls. Yet what could I do? Stay then and live in terror with Leone Maurizio, or plunge into the unknown with the one human being to have ever treated me kindly?

My aspect fell on the small, folded charm I wore around my neck, a gift from my mama at her death. Inside it, the creased print of her happy face. Hold on, my little rose, her voice appeared to tale within my head. Survive.

And survival, by this time, meant choice.

" Anybody got something I am supposed to bring?" I claimed, my own voice jiggling but with establishment. My decision was firm. Terror still ticked along in the recesses of my mind, but the idea of freedom, of being with Renzo, was a hint in the suffocating darkness.

A shriek of relief escaped his lips." Nothing but you, Ariana. We've to move presto. Everything additional can be replaced. Your freedom, your life, He squeezed my hand harder." Ready?"

I looked around my small, dingy room, at the many meager effects that comprised my entire world. A minced demitasse doll, a rasped mask, one book of wilted flowers. None of it counted. None of it was worth staying for.

" Yes," I said, the word half- stopgap, half- fear. "I am ready."

He jounced, his eyes ablaze with fierce determination." Good. Stay close behind me. And not a word."

He moved back to the window, smooth and silent. He Extended a hand, and I Grasped it, my heart knocking against my ribCage. The cold night air wrapped around me as I swung my Legs over the stave, the rough dinghy of the oak tree scraping against me. Renzo's sTeady hand held on to me, leading Me to detect footing on the establishment branches.

Down then, the world was a oil of dark shadow and pale moonlight. The night was so still, there was only the chittering of justices and my own racing heart pounding in time. Any rustling of leaves, any barking in the distance, made me jump with fear. What if someone came upon us? What if my father or Greta awakened?

But Renzo was a solid presence by my side, his grip establishment, his footing certain. He was my anchor, my compass in this shocking flight. We crawled down sluggishly, precisely, until my bases touched the soggy lawn. The earth beneath my rasped slippers felt abnormally spongy, a strange, jarring discrepancy to my captivity's hard, enduring bottoms.

He led me quietly through the abandoned theater , past the withered rose backwoods that had been neglected by Greta, to the rotten gravestone wall that marked the edge of our property. My casket heaved for breath as we reached it. Beyond it was the unknown.

He climbed the wall with ease, also turned to me, presenting me with his hand. I broke for one moment, also accepted it, hauling myself up, my muscles protesting vociferously. When I was standing on the cold gravestone, I glanced back one final time at the house. It was dark and still, a monument of lost expedients and ceaseless agony. I did n't feel anguish, nor guilt. Only an immense feeling of release.

also, with Renzo, I fell to the other side. The other side of the wall was darker, wilider. Trees stood altitudinous like silent guardians, their branches tangled into a cover against the moon. A thin, twisting path, hardly visible in the darkness, went on before us.

" This way," Renzo breathed, his voice not much louder than the whispers of the leaves. He seized my hand again, his fritters straining through mine, and pulled me forward.

We Ran, quietly, deeper into the timber that ringed our land. The air was cool, rich with the scent of pine needles and wet earth. My bare bases, habituated to the rough bottoms of my bedroom, protested the rougher ground, but I did n't notice. Every step was one sTep further from the horror, one step toward a fragile, conditional freedom.

I had No idea in which direction we Were Going, or what to anticipate. My mind was in a whirl of fear and a hopeless, growing stopgap. Was this actually passing? Was I really Escaping? Or was this one further of the vagrancies of fate?

But as Renzo's hold on mine grew tighter, a shock of something akin to courage ran through me. I had survived my father's abandonment, Greta's brutality, and the smothering quality of my mama 's absence. And now, I would fight for my own.

"God, what is happening next" I said in my heart as I waited for the next thing to do from my saviour; Renzo though mysterious but caring and I know I might regret this later but do I have a better idea? No.

The woods were so rough at night. I almost slipped and fell from the Slippery roots, hidden rocks, and patches of wet leaves that made every step a risk. But Renzo didn't stop. He moved like he knew every nook and cranny of the land, protecting and guiding me with a grip that never shakes. My legs ached, but I didn't stop. The rush of fear and hope couldn't allow me to stop, it made me forget the burning in my muscles. Even the night air, which I used to find comforting, felt sharp and cold now, like it was warning us we were running late.

Still, somewhere deep in me, hope stirred.

I was doing it. I was leaving. With Renzo.

The farther we got from the house, the lighter I felt. That heavy fear that sat on my chest for days started to fade, replaced by something new a rush. Like rebellion. Like freedom.

Then it happened.

We'd barely gotten past the last slope when a bright light cut through the trees ahead of us. My heart jumped straight into my throat.

"Stop," Renzo whispered, yanking me back fast. He pulled me behind a wide tree trunk and pressed me close to the bark. "Don't move."

The light grew stronger. An engine rumbled closer, slow and steady. A vehicle. It crept along the narrow dirt path, searching. I held my breath.

Did they already know?

Were we that easy to find?

The beam of the headlights scanned the forest, sweeping over where we'd just run from. Then it moved again this time right at us.

"There they are!" a voice shouted from the vehicle.

Everything inside me froze.

I didn't even have time to react before Renzo pushed me farther behind the tree and stepped out into the open.

"Run, Ariana! Go back to the house! I'll draw them off!" he shouted. There was something in his voice I hadn't heard before panic, maybe. Or something worse.

But I couldn't move.

Two men got out of the SUV, tall and dressed in black. I couldn't see their faces, just their shadows stretching across the leaves. They moved fast. Too fast.

"Step aside," one of them barked. His voice didn't have any feeling in it. Just... cold.

"You're not taking her," Renzo snapped. He stood firm, fists clenched. There was a fury in him I didn't expect-something deeper than just fear for me.

"The girl's part of the deal," the second man said, reaching toward his waist. I caught a flash of something metal there. "Move, or this gets ugly."

Renzo looked like he was about to say something, but he didn't. He just charged.

The next few minutes were chaos.

Renzo fought like a different person quick, brutal, almost trained. He wasn't some wandering tradesman. Not with moves like that. He hit hard, ducked fast, landed punches that sounded like bone against bone. But they were two. And bigger. And prepared.

Then came the crack. One of them slammed the butt of a gun or maybe a flashlight into his head. Renzo let out a raw cry and dropped to his knees, grabbing the side of his face. Blood leaked through his fingers.

"Renzo!" I screamed and ran from my hiding spot, but I barely made a step before someone yanked me back.

"No! Let me go!" I shouted, struggling against the man dragging me toward the car.

Renzo looked up. His eyes met mine. They were glassy, unfocused. "Ariana don't " he tried to say, but the other man kicked him again. He crumpled.

"Put her in the car," one of them ordered.

I thrashed. I kicked. I screamed. But they didn't care. One of them lifted me like I weighed nothing and shoved me into the back seat of their SUV. The door slammed shut behind me with a heavy thud.

From the window, I saw Renzo trying to crawl up. His mouth was moving. Maybe calling my name. I couldn't hear. The glass was too thick. The car pulled away. That was the last I saw of him on the ground, bloody, alone.

The ride was quiet. I sat there, shaking, pressing myself against the door like I could phase through it and disappear. I wasn't crying just from fear. It was the confusion too. And the pain. Something about the way Renzo fought... the way they looked at him... it didn't add up. There was something he hadn't told me.

By the time the SUV pulled up in front of the house, the sky was starting to shift. That soft, pale light before sunrise had begun to show. It used to make me feel like a new day was coming. Not now. Now it just felt cruel.

They pulled me out of the car. My legs almost gave out. I could barely stand.

My father stood on the porch, stiff as stone. Greta was beside him, her mouth curled into something bitter and smug.

"She was trying to escape," one of the men said. No anger. No emotion. Just a report.

Greta's eyes flared. "Ungrateful little witch," she hissed, then slapped me hard. My head snapped to the side. Pain bloomed across my face.

"You think you can throw everything away?!" she screamed. "After everything we've done?!"

She hit me again. Then again. Her hand rained down on my face, my ear, my cheek. I could taste blood. I swayed, trying not to fall. I didn't cry. I didn't speak. I just stood there and took it.

My father didn't move. He didn't stop her. Didn't flinch. Just stared, like I wasn't even there.

"Enough," one of the men said, sounding more annoyed than protective. "She's needed in one piece."

Greta stepped back, breathing hard. Her eyes sparkled with satisfaction.

"There she is," Nevio said, flatly. "As promised."

He wouldn't even look at me.

They grabbed my arms again. I was too tired to fight. Too broken.

And then another figure stepped out from the shadows by the car.

Taller than the others. Broader. He wore a sharp black suit and carried himself like he expected the world to listen when he spoke. Even in the dim light, I felt his presence. Strong. Cold.

His eyes met mine. They were dark. Focused. Empty. The kind of eyes that watched without blinking.

He didn't say anything. Just gave a short nod.

The men moved again, guiding me to the open door of the SUV. The inside looked rich. Quiet. Like another world entirely. I stepped in because I had no fight left.

The door shut behind me with a soft click. It sounded final.

Through the window, I saw my father still standing on the porch. Still not looking at me. And Greta, beside him, smiling like she'd just won.

The car pulled away.

That was it. My old life, my home, even Renzo it all stayed behind in the dirt and shadows.

I wasn't Ariana Aldo anymore. I wasn't a daughter. Or a girl. I was payment. Property. Something passed off like a debt.

And now, whatever came next was up to him.

The man who didn't speak. The one they called the monster.

Leone Maurizio.

Why do I have to go through all this torment? Some time ago , I was dreaming of a freedom that wasn't there and now I am being caught, will this be my end? And Renzo who appeared to be my knight in whatever armor he came with is down...I hope he is fine, my lips were shaking from the cold and from the fear of what is ahead of me.

The look on the monster's face, yes, I called him a monster, it is only a monster who would demand humans as a payment, I am not some kind of property for crying out loud " urghh!!"

I screamed out of frustration and annoyance. I wish I am not this helpless and hopeless. If there is any word that would describe how I was feeling it would be "disgust" . Yes, I am disgusted by people around me that I almost threw up.

Let's not talk about my father. If my life is a story or a movie you would need a pack of tissues, because you are going to cry.

I drifted to sleep, not because I was only tired but because I had given up on hope. Hope isn't a thing.