The Devil's Possession

Elena "Argh!" I screamed as the bottle hit my head.Glass shattered against the wall behind me. Sharp pieces rained down on my shoulders. I pressed myself into the corner of the kitchen, my hands covering my face. But it was too late. The cut on my forehead was already bleeding. Warm blood trickled down my brow, into my eye."You worthless girl!" Uncle Dante's voice thundered through the kitchen. His face was purple with rage. The whiskey bottle lay in pieces on the floor. "You think money grows on trees? You think I can afford to feed your useless mouth?""I didn't take anything," I whispered. My voice shook. "I only took the bread from yesterday. It was going stale…""Liar!" He grabbed a plate from the counter and threw it. I ducked. It shattered against the wall beside my head.I started crying. I could no longer help it. The tears came hot and fast, mixing with the blood on my face."You're crying?" He laughed, but there was no joy in it. "You want to know what crying is, Elena?

ElenaI pressed myself against the basement wall and held my breath.The voices upstairs were muffled, but I could hear enough. The man with the cold voice. My uncle begging. The gunshot that had made my ears ring.And then silence.I waited for more sounds. For footsteps. For another shot. For anything.Nothing came.My legs were shaking so hard I could barely stand. I grabbed the washing machine for support. The metal was cold under my fingers. My hands were still raw from the bleach, the skin cracked and bleeding.I had to get out of the basement. I had to see what happened.But I could not move.The fear was too big. It filled my chest, my throat, my lungs. I could not breathe. I could not think. I could only press myself into the wall and wait for something to happen.Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. I did not know anymore.Then I heard footsteps on the stairs.My heart stopped.They were heavy, slow and deliberate. The footsteps of a man who was not in a hurry. A man who had all

ElenaHis touch burned.Not like fire. Like ice. The kind of cold that steals your breath.I stood on the stage with his fingers under my chin, and I could not move. The men in the room were watching. All those hungry eyes. All those cruel smiles.But his eyes were different. Grey. Cold as winter steel. And empty."Your new owner," he said.The word hit me like a slap.Owner.I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. But my body would not listen.He released my chin. "Come."I did not move.His eyes narrowed. "I will not ask again."My feet moved before my brain could stop them. I followed him through the crowd. The men parted like the sea. They would not meet his eyes.Who was this man?We walked into the cold night air. A black car waited. A man in a suit held the door open."Get in."I looked at the street. The dark alley.If I ran, where would I go?Back to my uncle?My uncle.I thought of him shoving me into the car. His empty eyes. The way he did not look back when he walked away fro

ElenaThe east wing had four rooms and a window that looked out over the garden.I had memorised all of it by the end of day one.The bedroom was large and cold, with a bed so wide I could sleep diagonally and still not reach the other side. The bathroom had marble floors and hot water. The sitting room had two chairs, a table, and a shelf of books someone had placed there for me.I did not know what I was supposed to do with myself. That was the honest answer.I had spent thirteen years knowing exactly what every hour required. Wake at five. Light the stove. Begin the cleaning. At my uncle's house, there was never a moment that did not already belong to a task. Here the hours were simply mine.It was the most uncomfortable thing that had ever happened to me.On day two I tried to read. I got through the same page eleven times. The house was too quiet. Not the quiet of an empty place, but of a full one holding itself still. Men moved through the corridors without sound. I never heard

ElenaOn day four, I sat in a chair against a wall for ninety minutes and was not spoken to once.This was, somehow, an improvement.The meeting had been full of men with flat eyes and expensive watches talking about things I was not meant to understand, and I had understood about sixty percent of it, which I thought was rather good considering I had no context and had been dragged in with no explanation beyond "because I said so."He did not look at me during the meeting. Not once, or so I thought.But when Enzo dropped the folder and the word he said after was one I recognised from my uncle's worst evenings, and the sound escaped me before I could catch it entirely, I looked up and he was already looking at me.Not warmly. Not with amusement. With the flat assessment he gave everything.I looked back at the wall immediately.My face was very hot for the remaining thirty minutes.Lucas found me in the garden that afternoon.I had been sitting on the stone bench near the fountain, whi