The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

Drunk me, is not a good thing and I remember in my hazy stupor why this is not something I ever do to myself. I am an emotional mess, sobbing into my own lap on the floor and cradling my umpteenth cocktail of hard liquor while pulling my mental state into disarray.

I am a bad drunk and I can’t switch off the depths of feeling going off inside me like a hot flowing volcano as lava bubbles out through my body. I was stupid to do this to myself, and instead of drowning my sorrows I have opened Pandora’s Box and can’t seem to switch off the all-consuming pain and turmoil coming from the dark recesses of my brain.

It’s like I have my own cinematic tragedy on replay, reminding me of my life and all my woes and stupid buried memories which are springing out in all directions, to add to how devastated I already feel.

Despite all of that, HE is still foremost in my brain, plaguing me like the tormentor he is so apt at being, and even in his absence he still has that hold over me.

Go figures that the demon would star in my self-inflicted daymares.

I fall back on the floor and spill my drink all over his white plush rug as I let out another wave of gut wrenching sobs until I can’t breathe anymore. My nose is runny and blocked, my eyes burning with the watery makeup that’s poured down my entire face and left little dark droplets on the rug around me. I don’t care though, screw his stupid ridiculously expensive rug in his stupid Manhattan apartment. Fuck Alexi and all that he is. I can’t remember feeling this way in a long, long time. Not since the day my mother held me down at the age of eleven and let Rick rape me for a ten pound bag of heroin.

The feeling of complete hopelessness and devastation as she stole what was left of my sanity that day, for a pitiful little bag of smack and showed me how little value I held in her life. After years of beating me into submission and verbally stripping me raw of any self-respect or self-esteem I may have naturally had, she made sure she took the last ounces of me away that day. I was her punching bag in life and the source of all her anger. I was the baby who ruined her life, her marriage and the reason she was a scummy piss poor addict in the worst part of Hackney.

should endure. I had to learn to suck it up and deal with it. I had to learn to fend for myself and not rely on anyone else for anything in life. I fed myself, made sure I made my own money in any way I could just so I wouldn’t starve or freeze. I stole, I begged, I manipulated people just to get by and I learned that if you are streetwise and savvy and put all your frail feelings in a cold

survival. That’s what I did. I learned that men and women can be equally cruel, that people will turn a blind eye to something distasteful rather than help, even when you are a child. I learned that those in positions to help are sometimes as bad as those who abuse. I learned you should never trust anyone, as all humans have

didn’t have friends, because I couldn’t trust anyone not to tell what I was enduring and fear of becoming

could rise above a lot of the street rats I knew around where I lived. I excelled because I was taller, slimmer, and prettier, than a lot of them, and I

to keep myself clean and groomed, so the school wouldn’t be suspicious over my care, and so

could without question, and never looked back at further education. I played the game and hid what was done to me, what I was being used for. I learned how to make men want me and act as though I liked what they were doing. I learned how to make them come

games, it was just a way of life and some sort of sad acceptance of what I was. I stopped feeling. It stopped being something degrading and wrong and became an act with a means to an end. I learned to lie, hide and manipulate from a very young age, accepted that I was a prostitute no

a little every second in the early days and never turned to anyone to rescue me, as I knew that was never going to be a reality. There are no knights to come sweep you

after my first hurdle to play him to meet my

deny his touch, too pathetic to keep my heart and head out of this and too in awe of

discard me this way, treat me this way. For all that I was in my past and all that I am capable of, I did my best to be loyal and fair when it came to him. I never once played him or tried to stab him in the back. I went against all I have been in my life, the person I made

and shelter, that’s what I had by toeing the line in his world