POSSESSIVE VOWS (THE SANTORO MAFIA #1) BY IVY DAVIS EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: IVY DAVIS
- Language: English
- Genre: MAFIA
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Pia
I’ve spent most of my life mute. I was shy as a little girl, but once the
incident happened, I stopped talking.
I’ve been like this for years and grown used to my solitude, so it
isn’t so bad. At times, I wish I could communicate more with people, but I
haven’t seen another person other than my father in years. Mostly, I wish I
could get through to him and make him understand how he scares me. How
I wish I could never see his face again. But I can’t tell him. He ignores my
sign language, insisting I talk.
But I know what he’s done. I can never forget it.
It’s my father’s fault I’m this way.
I stare out through my tiny bedroom window, looking down at the lush
Italian countryside below, full of olive trees and green grass for miles. My
window is barely big enough for me to stick my arm through. Not that I
could do that, to begin with, seeing as the window never opens. But I
appreciate this window because it lets me see out into the world at least,
giving me a chance to imagine a different life than the one I have.
My life, as it is now, is full of quiet and loneliness, stuck in my room
inside my father’s mansion. I feel like Rapunzel at times—alone with no
one to talk to, trapped in a literal tower. My father constructed this part of
the house when I was a little girl. He blended gothic and rustic Italian
architecture to create this imposing addition to the house—a tower he
locked me away in.
All because I saw something I shouldn’t have. He doesn’t want me to
ever talk about what I saw—he would kill me if I told the truth. But even if
I could, I wouldn’t want to.
I remember the incident so vividly. It’s part of why I’m unable to speak
now. The memories of that day swirl in my head, again and again, enough
that I can’t imagine ever forgetting it enough to heal.
The day my mother was murdered.
By my father.
I saw how he held her as she bled out, a bloody knife in his hand. I
remember the stab wounds all over her body. There were so many that it
almost looked like one giant stab wound across my mother’s body, slowly
killing her.
Her head was tilted back, and her eyes met mine as I stood in the
doorway. My father hadn’t noticed me yet. It gave me a chance to say
goodbye to my mom, not with words, but with our eyes.
She blinked when she saw me. Her dark hair, so like mine, hung around
her face, obscuring some of the blood from my view. I always loved my
mother’s hair. Its vibrancy. The way it was so dark, yet full of color, a
mixture of browns and reds creating a stunning depth. She was so beautiful.
Everyone told me I was lucky to have a beautiful mom since I’d look just
like her when I got older.
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