My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 69

Chapter 69: 70/Forbidden Touch

Chapter 70:

Julie’s Point of View

I closed the room door behind me forcefully and leaned my back against it while my chest rose and fell madly.

I shut my eyes, but the image of the guard lying on the carpet did not leave my eyelids;

I saw his head tilting rigidly, and his eyes in which the final shock had frozen.

The calmness of Robert, the "monster," as he pressed the trigger resonated in my ears like a ceaseless ringing.

I rushed toward the bathroom with stumbling steps,

and with trembling fingers, I began stripping off my clothes and throwing them on the floor as if they were contaminated with leprosy.

I stood under the showerhead and turned the water to the maximum possible coldness.

My entire body jerked under the impact of the water that struck my pores like needles, but I did not move;

I needed this pain to expel the image of the corpse and the murderer’s calmness from my imagination.

I grabbed the bar of soap and began scrubbing my lips with hysterical cruelty.

I was pressing my fingernails against my delicate skin until I felt the sting of pain and the reddening of the area,

trying to erase the texture of his thumb which he had passed over his lips a moment ago.

A muffled gasp escaped me as I whispered to myself in loss:

"Impossible... it’s impossible that I touched that monster."

The soap slipped from my trembling hand,

so I rested my forehead against the cold tiles and allowed the water to wash away my tears which poured profusely.

My body was trembling not only from the cold, but from the idea of the "personal assistant" that he had thrown in my face.

My body was no longer a commodity for strangers; it had become the property of this man who manipulates my memory and my life as if I were a wooden doll in his hands.

I raised my head and looked at my palms, which had turned white from the intensity of the scrubbing, and I felt a lump choking my throat; would I spend the rest of my life carrying his coffee?

I stepped out of the bathroom, and the cold room air brushed against my wet body, making a harsh shiver run through my skin.

I glimpsed the food cart sitting in the corner of the room, and despite the bitterness of the nausea filling my throat,

I felt violent contractions in my stomach; my entrails were tearing with an audible sound, for my body had not tasted food for two days.

I pulled on my pajamas quickly, my hands still trembling as I closed the buttons with difficulty.

I approached the cart weakly and began swallowing a few morsels mechanically, but the food was sticking in my dry throat as if it were stones.

I didn’t crave anything, but the exhaustion of my strength forced me to satisfy this hunger.

I headed toward the bed and collapsed onto it, trying to bury my head among the pillows.

But, as soon as my eyelids closed, the image of the red-haired man emerged from the darkness of my memory;

I saw him stretched out on the ground, a still corpse, his glazed eyes staring at nothing.

My body suddenly jerked on the mattress and I opened my eyes in terror, while my heartbeat accelerated until I felt it in my ears.

I sat up, pulling my legs to my chest and encircling them with my arms, trying to shrink my size as much as possible.

I felt a strange coldness inhabiting my bones whenever I remembered Robert’s calm tone; that calmness that precedes the shot.

Fear began to seep into my depths like a slow poison, and I realized that I was no longer facing just a cruel man,

but a monster capable of erasing souls in the blink of an eye, and that I was now entirely trapped in his lair.

My chest suddenly tightened with an aching longing, and I felt an overwhelming desire to bury my head in my mother’s lap,

even though I had never known the warmth of that lap.

I felt my cold arms and remembered how she used to avoid even fleeting contact with me, as if my body were a forbidden zone for her.

My memory took me back to that day; I was sixteen, standing before the mirror checking my black dress decorated with small red flowers.

I put my hair up, my fingers trembling as I tried to perfect the updo that "Sunshine" had taught me. When I walked out of the room, I froze in my place.

She was standing at the door, as if she had just stepped out of the pages of legends.

Her red dress wrapped around her body skillfully, and her brown hair flowed over her shoulders like a waterfall of shining chocolate.

Her emerald eyes sparkled under the light, and lips stained by deep red lipstick possessed a captivating allure.

I felt a lump of fascination making it difficult for me to breathe; looking at her stole the senses.

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