001

Sofia’s P.O.V

My hands shot to my phone immediately a message came in.

Once I tapped on her message, I squinted my eyes as I leaned closer to the phone.

“I am not coming back. If anyone asks, I ran away with my boyfriend,” I read aloud.

It took me a minute to process the words I saw but when I did, my eyes widened and my hands searched for her number.

I called but it disconnected. I called again then finally the call service notified me that I was blocked. 

“Blocked,” I shot to my feet, my hands holding the phone tightly as the chair behind me fell. 

I turned and walked past it. I stopped in the middle of the room, one hand reaching for my hair, fingers gliding past the strands before gripping a fist full of my hair then tugging.

My other hand held the phone, transferring the aggression I would have unleashed on her on the phone by squeezing it tightly.

“No, she can’t block me. Doesn’t she know what today is?” I wondered to myself.

“Lucia,” my parents' voice grabbed my attention. 

My steps quickened and I rushed to my door, grabbing and pulling it open. I slipped my phone into my pocket before walking outside the room.

“Lucia,” My father, called her again in a sweet soft tone. I pinpointed the direction of his voice to be from the living room.

They must be waiting for her, I thought to myself.

I made my way down the hall as his voice got louder and more aggressive. I arrived in Lucia’s room and rushed to her bed. I grabbed the pillows and tossed it but nothing was under it.

I tossed the bedsheet to the side but nothing was there as well. That’s when I heard footsteps. My breath hitched but it didn’t stop me.

I crouched and shifted to the drawers in the cupboard beside her bed, my fingers wrapping around the handle and pulling it open.

I stuck a hand in it and searched for anything that would tell me where she was going.

I refused to believe that Lucia was that stupid to throw her life away like this.

Does she not know they will not blame her but me? Or did she not care like she never did. 

I clenched my jaw as I moved to the next wardrobe. I reached in and scrambled through the perfumes and papers in it till I found a card. It was a thank you card.

I flipped it over to find a number. I furrowed my eyebrows, holding it tightly with one hand then releasing the other and searching for my phone. That’s when the door was kicked open.

“Lucia,” My father’s voice made the room vibrate or maybe it was me that fear had tossed to the ground.

I had crumbled the paper, holding it tightly in one hand while my knuckles pressed against the floor to keep me balanced. 

“Where is your sister?” He questioned as he walked further into the room. 

My heart thudded, louder and louder till it fought against his voice. I couldn’t hear him properly but I could see his mouth moving. I couldn’t move.

I had tried to run but I couldn’t so he got to me within seconds, his hands gripping onto my shirt and jerking me to my feet.

He still made sure I was still under his gaze, my knees bent as my fingers fought to loosen his grip. “Where did you keep your sister?” He yelled. 

My eyebrows twitched. I was meant to keep the clueless expression on my face. It was funny how I tried to show him that I wasn’t with her but he wouldn’t believe me.

Why did he think I was with her? What would I gain from getting him to hit me because of her?

She didn’t care about anyone in this family, not even them so of course when they needed her to do something, she found a way to go against it then I’d have to pay. And yet they couldn’t see the pattern.

“I’m not with her,” I managed to cough out through the fear. 

He threw me to the floor. My body hit the ground with a thud. A familiar pain shot through my body but at least it didn’t hurt as much as last time.

He hovered over me.

“You better start talking or you won’t like what I would do to you,” he told me.

My father was looking at me with pure rage but I didn’t dare look at him. Soon, his hands grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head up to face me.

I gasped.

“You influenced her to leave. You had to be the one telling her not to do this. I know you don’t like this family”.

I clamped my lips shut but I could barely breathe so I parted it again, swallowing air. My chest rose and fell while my heart still thudded.

My left ear began to ring, leaving my right to make out what he was saying. As if things couldn’t get any worse, my tongue caught a metallic taste. Only then did I feel something trickling down my nose; blood. 

“Did I not tell you to be careful?” He spat. “What did you do to yourself? Do you not know whatever is in you belongs to your sister? If you’re harmed, how will she live when she’s hurt?”

I could recite his words in my sleep. There were too many variations of his words that all led back to the same thing.

Be careful. Your sister is sick. You will have to donate a part of you to keep her alive.

Don’t you love her? We gave you life so you owe it to us, if not her to keep her alive.

Donate! Donate! Donate! Was all they kept me here for. Even if they wanted to toss me out, they couldn’t because they needed me to keep my sister alive. 

Soon, footsteps were heard and my mother came in. 

He let go of my head then reached into his pocket and brought out a handkerchief. He tossed it at me before turning to my mother.

“What’s going on here?” My mother asked, unfazed at my situation. She shifted her gaze to my father. That’s when her expression changed to worry.

She held out her hands, reached and grabbed him. She scanned him but saw no sign of harm on him. “We have to leave now. Have you found Lucia?”

“Ask that brat where Lucia is.”

“She’s gone?” My mother’s eyes grew wide. 

My father groaned, looking away. 

Then My mother stumbled back, her palms pressing against her chest before she leaned backwards.

She always did this.

She was a dramatic person who would faint even when the situation didn’t need fainting.

I could only scoff.

I wiped the blood with the wrist of my arm. I refused to use his handkerchief. It had to be a trap. If I get it dirty, he’d hit me for touching and messing up anything of his. 

My father rushed to her. His hand looped around her waist while the other cupped her head gently.

He pulled her back up before letting go. She began pacing not too long after, fanning herself with her hands.

“The Falcone’s car is here. We have to bring Lucia. If we don’t come with her, I wonder what they would do to us”.

Mom stopped then looked at dad. “Would they kill us?” 

My father blinked. The fear washed over him. It was very visible on his way. In the way his fingers curled into a fist then loosened. His hands must be sweaty.

He gulped for the third time and I was shocked he hadn’t choked yet. It was as though he was visualizing what would be done to him. 

“Mr. Julius Falcone is not someone we can reason with and his son Roman Falcone is ruthless. He had promised to treat our Lucia the best way possible but if we don’t provide her, he won’t take it likely,” My mother explained.

My father huffed.

My mother’s hand moved to her neck. “Would they cut my head off?”

“No,” My father objected. 

He moved to Lucia’s wardrobe, opened it and sorted through the hanged gowns. He found the best one and tossed it at me.

“Get changed but don’t stain it with blood. Try to look presentable. They haven’t seen Lucia yet so they won’t know who’s who”.

I had no choice but to obey.