My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 65

Chapter 65: 66/A bitter awakening

Chapter 66:

Julie’s Point of View

A sudden coldness exploded over my face, as if a thunderbolt of ice had struck my pores.

My entire body jerked under the covers, and I bolted upright, gasping violently, but my head wouldn’t obey; I felt as if a polished dagger had been driven into my temple, forcing me to recoil again.

The room was spinning around me in hysterical circles; the walls were swaying, and the ceiling was descending toward my eyes, which failed to open against the breaking light.

I pressed my palms over my ears to stifle a sharp ringing that sounded like a train’s whistle.

As my vision gradually cleared, I glimpsed a familiar face dripping with venom: it was Olivia.

She stood over me like an ill-omened crow, gripping a glass cup empty now with sternness, her features flushed with a rage I didn’t understand.

She screamed in a tone that pierced my head like a nail:

"Get up, you pig!"

I felt a nausea sweeping through my gut and a strange bitterness settling in my throat, which was dry as a barren desert.

I tried to lift my body, but my limbs were heavy as if made of lead, and my skin, soaked in cold water, was shivering violently.

I placed my hand over my throat, which felt as if it were clogged with thorns, and said in a hoarse voice that came out like a broken hiss, barely audible:

"What... what happened to me?"

Every word I uttered increased the pain inside my skull, while I tried desperately to gather the shards of last night that had scattered into the holes of my black memory.

Olivia spat her words in my face as if she were smelling a carcass:

"Your whole scent is disgusting wine... and it’s past four in the afternoon. Were you dead or what?"

Her words fell on my head like a hammer.

Four in the afternoon? My heartbeat froze for a moment before racing madly.

I tried to respond, but a sour lump rose from the depths of my stomach to block my throat.

I lunged from the bed with a swaying body, and as soon as my feet touched the floor,

I rushed toward the bathroom with stumbling steps, my hand pressing firmly against my mouth.

I threw myself onto my knees before the toilet, and my entire body shook in a violent convulsion; I felt a burning tearing through my esophagus as I threw up everything inside me.

My stomach muscles were contracting with painful severity, and my eyes overflowed with forced tears with every burning gasp,

until it seemed to me, from the intensity of the pain and effort, that my entrails would burst from between my ribs.

I finally stilled, panting over the cold tiles, my forehead dripping with sweat,

while the bitter taste in my mouth reminded me of every stinging sip I had gulped down yesterday, fleeing from the truth.

Olivia stiffened at the bathroom threshold, twisting her face in disgust as she eyed me with a poisonous look:

"How repulsive!"

She turned and left the room, leaving the echo of her footsteps to vibrate in my head, which felt like it was about to explode.

I remained kneeling in my place, struggling against a dizziness gnawing at my consciousness and a grip squeezing my stomach.

After a bitter struggle to regain control over my sluggish body, I leaned against the cold wall and stood up very slowly.

The scent of wine emanating from my pores attacked me with every breath, increasing my urge to vomit again.

With trembling fingers, I turned on the shower faucet, and the hot water rushed in to fill the space with steam.

I stripped off my clothes, stained with the disappointments of last night, and stood under the flow of water, letting it strike my heavy head.

I was searching through the holes of my black memory; I remembered sitting on that high stool, I remembered the taste of the first acrid sip... but what happened after that?

Everything vanished into a murky fog.

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