Bela Diri Novels & Stories

He pushes himself into me by another inch and a whimper breaks out of me. I never imagined that it'd be difficult affirming that I’m beautiful, but right now, when Matteo demands that I say those words out loud, they’ve suddenly become too heavy on my tongue and I know it’s because I do not believe them. I do not believe myself beautiful nor do I find myself worthy of anything good. “I’m waiting, Mirabella.” Matteo groans. “I’m beautiful.” I affirm and Matteo pushes himself into me fully with a growl like moan. “Again, Mirabella. Louder, with more conviction. Believe it in your heart and say it out loud.”

Her lips, even without gloss, were full and naturally pink. She was beautiful. Not because of makeup or clever lighting or photography tricks. She was beautiful because she was beautiful, and no amount of cruelty from Diro could change that fundamental truth. Beverly touched her reflection in the mirror, her fingers tracing the face she was seeing clearly for the first time in her life. Diro could take away her makeup. He could forbid her from taking photos. He could call her plain and ordinary and nothing special until his voice went hoarse. But he couldn't take away what she had just discovered about herself.