Jessica Ann Rodriguez popularly known as Jessica Thompson, is an 18-year-old girl who is being abused by her stepfather after her also abusive mother died when she was 3 years old. Getting bullied in everyday life and getting beaten at home her life could not get any worse. But suddenly her life gets flipped upside down when her stepfather dies from an overdose and she finds out she has a father and 9 older brothers. Raul Pete Rodriguez, Italian Mafia Don, The most feared mafia don to exist along with the eldest son. Raul has always wanted a baby girl, but when his wife suddenly runs away leaving him and their 9 boys, he becomes even more ruthless and cold-hearted. What happens when suddenly he gets a call from Texas asking if he wants to take his daughter in? The daughter he never knew about? Will Jessica trust them with her past, what happens when they find what out what their little sister has been through? Will they tell her about who they are and what they do? What happens when a certain mafia Russian heir sets his eyes on her? Read to find out!!!!
Jessica'S POV
Sitting on the roof of my old run down house, looking at the endless sea of stars in the black sky, thinking of my life, what my purpose is in life. I have no family, no friends, hell even pets. I have no one, nothing, nothing to lose, nothing to hope for. I'm simply surviving not living, I'm breathing but I feel dead.
If only feelings had an off-switch. If only I can block out the hurtful words, the thoughts, the feelings. I try to tell myself that its not true, all the words,all the pain, that its a chapter and it will pass. But I guess that's a lie, I have been lying to myself. This chapter is not passing, all my life I have been in the same chapter, over and over again, my life is a repeating record, everyday is the same.
But, I learned to block it out, to numb the pain away. Now, now numbness is all I ever feel. It helps with the words, thoughts, feelings and everything. I learned something when I was 9 years old. I would always cry when my parents would start hitting me, but I realized something, that if I cry or mope around nothing would change, nothing. The kicking, punching, slapping, whipping and degrading wouldn't stop nor will it ever stop.
They love when I cry, when I beg, but nothing ever works it comes in an ear and out the other, I haven't cried since I was 10 years old . Crying won't solve my problems, it wont do anything. So I just stopped, I bottle everything up.
I don't burden anyone with my problems or what goes on at home. I know they wont do anything, they will pity me, and if their is one thing I hate most in life that its pity. I don't want people to pity me, I don't need anything from anyone. There is God, God gives me faith, hope, love, everything. I know he will help me. He kept me going till now for a reason.
I always wanted one thing as a little little girl . I wanted them to love me. I wanted them protect me and care for me. I wanted her help me with my hair, clothes or simply advice me in life. I wanted him to call me his little princess, to chase away boys, to protect me from bullies. But we don't get everything we want. Because it turned out they became my biggest bullies, I needed protection from them. They became the monsters from under the bed that you need protection from. They ruined me. He ruined me, she ruined me. Both of them broke me, shatterd me, broke me into a million pieces that can't be put together.
I always wondered what I did wrong, what I did for them to hate me, to harm me, to despise me that much. But I always came up with nothing. I was a kid who could barely stand, so I never came up with an answer.
Its currently 4:00 in the morning and I need to go make my stepfather breakfast and clean the house or else I will get my daily dosage of love (note the sarcasm). With that thought in mind I got up and streched my sore muscles, Obviously that was a mistake as I bent over in pain. Yesterday I came 10mins late from work and he whipped my back and dislocated my knee. I don't even know how I'm walking right now but I guess you could say I'm used to it, the pain.
I walked to my room which is basiclly the attic. My room consists of a really thin mattress, a thin blanket, no pillow, and a chair in the corner of the room where I keep my stuff. I went to the broken mirror in the bathroom and lifted my shirt just over my ribs. My stomach has burn marks, open flesh, and bruises. My stomach is a mixture of black, blue, purple, yellow, and green. One thing I hate when looking at my stomach is the word my mom (if you can even call her that) carved there. The word "whore" is carved in the middle of my stomach. She carved it with a small pocket knife when I came late from school for doing a project with a boy.
I don't even know how she found out. I don't dwell on the thought anymore and start dressing my wounds and sanitizing the cuts with rubbing alcohol and white, big antiseptic bandages. After that I put on my clothes.
I make sure to cover the bruises on my face and hands with foundation186
I make sure to cover the bruises on my face and hands with foundation. Don't want anybody knowing.
After I finished stood and looked at myself in the mirror. My green-blue eyes hold no life, they are dull, lifeless, no shine in them whatsoever. They used to be so bright, full of life and happiness but now they are dead, nothing in them, they look so empty . My face is too thin and pale from the little food and dehydration, My clothes are too big and baggy because i'm too thin. Overall I'm not the most appealing to look at.
When I finish I make my way downstairs to start on breakfast. I make my way to the kitchen and open the fridge and take the ingredients out. I make four pieces of toasted toast, two with fried eggs and the other two with strawberry jam with half an avocado on the side. I put the plate on the table and open the fridge to take out a beer. The second I put the bottle down I hear loud booming footsteps alerting me he's coming.
I stand in the corner in the kitchen and keep my head down . Its one of rules I have to follow or else I get punished.
He makes his way inside and sits on the stool and starts eating. Next thing I know a fist is being thrown in my face. He punches me in the face and I feel the familiar taste of metal in my mouth. He busted my lip when it just healed. Another punch is thrown and he says "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT YOU FUCKING WHORE???"
"T-toast s-sir." I stutter looking at the floor,
another rule is that I call him sir and never make eye contact, he considers it disrespectful.
It looks like he didn't like that answer as he threw me on the floor and started kicking my stomach.
This went one for 1hour and when he finally had finished I could barely keep my eyes open.
"That's what you get you filthy bitch." He spat,
I saw him through blurry vision pick up his car keys and leave slamming the door on his way.
Slowly I stand up with the support of the wall and make my way to my room. I open the door and go inside, I reapply my foundation to cover the new bruises. I then eat small granola bar from the kitchen and take two painkillers for my ribs because he broke three I think.
I then make my way outside to leave for work. I close the door and lock it behind me. I work as a waitress in this really cute popular cafe that's 30 mins away. I have been working there for 2years and the owners are really sweet and treat me as their own.
Once I reach the cafe I open the door and the smell of freshly baked goods and coffee fills my nose. I bid Martha and Jerry the owners good morning and move to put my stuff away. I hear the bell above the door jingle indicating someone came. I put my apron and take my small notebook and pen and head outside to start working. Let the day begin.
'I'm mommy's good boy,' he repeated. 'You really want to hear me beg?' He said letting out a cheeky laugh. 'I want to cum so bad,' he said in between pants. 'Please...' 'Please what?' Another male voice sounded from behind me. I smiled, knowing who it is. I heard his footsteps and felt his eyes on my, making me shiver. He came into view on my right and walked over to Jackson, who looked flustered, looking between the two of us. I witnessed him revert back into submission so quickly, bratty behavior all gone. That's my daddy. Michael placed his bag down and brought one knee on the bed, leaning down on Jackson. I watched in awe as he kissed him with much passion and like every other time, I was in awe. Of their connection. I witnessed it first hand and it's the purest I've ever seen. Michael pulled back to look at me, winking with a knowing smirk as he looked down at our conjoined bodies. 'Tell mommy what you want, baby,' he turned to Jackson, who whimpered under the control of two Doms. 'Come on, beg for it, love,' Jackson was panting with need. 'Please me mommy...' ● After a tragic but not so tragic divorce between Samantha Dixon-Pitt and Martin Pitt, Michael and Jackson are ready to welcome a third party into their relationship. Restricted by friendship and Samantha's marriage, they are ready to take the next step.
This is a story about two damaged people who came together because of one's desire and the other's fear. Cassandra She was young, innocent, loving, and pretty with big eyes that showed her soul. She was stunningly beautiful but broken and alone, trapped in a world of monsters. Then he appeared. People say he is the worst monster of all, someone you pray never to meet. Will she escape him, or will he become her whole world? Dominic He was ruthless, aggressive, and merciless. Everyone feared him, and he was proud to be the king of his world. But he was also broken. Then she appeared. She was like a fragile doll, his doll. Will he take what he wants and move on, or will she become his life? "Let me go, please," she begged. He buried his face in her neck and tightened his grip around her arms. "Shhhh... breathe, love," he whispered. She cringed at his nickname for her, and he continued, "You are mine, and I am never letting you go. I will give you everything, my love, except your freedom from me."
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