My father sold me to the Mafia King

Chapter 29: 29/Colonized Breath

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

Julie’s Point of View

The vast room suddenly shrank, fitting into the palm of a hand the moment his massive frame touched mine. I felt as if the walls were trying to crush me from all sides, and the ceiling was descending with force to flatten me beneath it.

I could hear nothing but the ringing in my ears and the sound of my heartbeats, striking my ribs violently like a slaughtered bird.

The scent of his strong oud perfume mixed with tobacco besieged my breath, robbing my lungs of air.

It colonized my nose like deadly soldiers, taking full possession of it.

He was terrifyingly close so close that I felt the heat of his breath on my forehead and the coldness of his body sweeping over the heat of my fear.

I searched for my tongue, for those words I had boasted of moments ago, but I found nothing but a lump stuck in my throat. His question, ”It’s not scary... is it?” echoed in my mind like a lightning bolt destroying all my fortresses.

I tried to push his chest with my trembling hands, but I was like one trying to move a mountain of solid marble.

I was afraid to look up at him, lest he see my internal fear and my burning soul that he had just bragged about.

I said in a hoarse voice, barely escaping my trembling lips:

”Move... move away.”

Despite my attempt to make it sound like a command, that word came out shaky, wrapped in a tone of humiliation that screamed of my helplessness and plea.

In that moment, I was entirely at his mercy, surrendered to a dominion that had stripped me of my strength.

I no longer possessed any shield to defend myself; even my tongue—my only weapon—had betrayed me mid-battle, ceasing to fight and leaving me drowning in a terrifying silence before his arrogance.

His whispered words struck my ear like a cold hiss:

”Why? Weren’t you feeling bored?”

Then he continued in a tone dripping with poison and sarcasm:

”This is the only entertainment available for you in this place.”

At that moment, my heart was pounding against my ribs madly as if wanting to leap out and escape.

My scattered feelings mingled with my deep fears until my scream exploded in his face:

”I’m telling you, move away from me!”

He let out a low laugh—not of mirth, but a cold sound of utter disdain. Then he spoke in a tone that stripped me of my humanity in a second:

”You won’t have the honor of this entertainment tonight, Julie... for I do not sleep with my merchandise that is up for sale.”

His words were like a knife tearing through what remained of my pride, but he didn’t stop there. He leaned his head closer to my ear, whispering with a hiss like a snake approaching its paralyzed prey:

”Especially virgins... I don’t like them.”

That last sentence was the coup de grâce to my rebellion.

He didn’t just describe me as ”merchandise”; he made my purity an additional reason for his contempt, leaving me drowning in my shock while my very existence collapsed under the weight of his poisoned words.

He finally pulled his massive body away, leaving behind a cold void.

I remained pinned to that cold wall as if held by iron nails. I watched his shadow leave the room with slow, confident steps, each one increasing my agitated breathing.

As soon as he left and closed the door with a terrifyingly calm thud, my strength failed me completely.

My body slid down the rough wall, and I fell to the floor like a lifeless corpse. I pulled my knees to my chest tightly, trying to protect what was left of me, and allowed my suppressed tears to flow bitterly.

He had made my weakness and fragility before him glaringly obvious. I wiped my face violently, as if his breath was still clinging to my skin, reminding me of his humiliating proximity.

A wave of overwhelming disgust surged through me, to the point that I ripped that wretched bandage off my wound—the bandage that, for some reason, felt like a filthy sponge that had absorbed his scent and stored it within its pores.

That cursed scent didn’t leave; it haunted every breath I took. Suddenly, I remembered the bitter truth: I was still wearing his cursed shirt, as if I were encased in his skin.

I stood up in a frenzied haste and stripped it off my body with violence and disdain.

I tried to tear it apart with my hands, wanting to see its threads scatter as he had scattered my pride, but the fabric was strong and harsh like its owner. stronger than my ability to destroy it.

I threw it on the ground with contempt and began to stomp on it with all the rage I possessed.

I imagined his cold face under my feet and started jumping over that shirt hysterically, like a madwoman who had lost her mind.

By kicking this garment, I was trying to kick his authority away from me and cleanse my body of the traces of his presence that had colonized me tonight.

Suddenly, the sound of the doorknob turning echoed again. In that fatal moment, the realization hit me:

”I’m only in my underwear!”

I rushed madly toward the bed, grabbed the cover, and wrapped my body in it with lightning speed, my heart nearly leaping out of my throat.

A calm, feminine voice resonated through the room:

”Hello, Julie.”

I looked up with a mixture of terror and confusion; the doctor had entered the room. But the real shock was who followed her—Robert entered behind her again, with his cold dignity and unshakeable pride, as if he hadn’t had enough of what he did to me.

He returned to relish in crushing me with his overwhelming presence once more, forcing me to face him at the peak of my brokenness.

His gaze fell on the shirt lying carelessly on the floor, then he shifted his piercing eyes to me, making me clutch the bedsheet around me with frenzied strength as if it were my last shield.

He said in a provocative, icy tone:

”As usual... you never stop causing chaos.”

This jerk! If only he knew how much I want to shatter his pathetic face, to smash those arrogant features until no trace of them remains.

But he continued with his coldness that boiled in my veins:

”The doctor will examine you, Julie.”

The blood froze in my veins, and I wondered in horror: Will she examine me to check my naked body and my virginity?

I was still reeling, not yet recovered from the shock of his disgusting proximity, and here he was bringing the doctor now to strip me of my remaining dignity under the name of an ”examination,” as if I were nothing but a machine that needed inspecting before being sold.

I couldn’t respond; not a single spark of energy for confrontation remained in my body or soul.

As for him, he stood before me with terrifying sturdiness, as if he possessed an inexhaustible demonic energy.

He spoke in a tone carrying a harsh reminder of my defeat:

”The scalpel you used before to stop the doctor from examining you isn’t here now... so be sensible.”

”Be sensible”... the word a jailer says to his victim to make them die in silence. In that moment, I wished that scalpel were really in my hands—not to threaten them, but to run it across my neck and end this agony forever.

I wished I could kill myself and leave this world, rather than stay here to live this hell where they want to strip me of the last veil covering my dignity.

He turned his back to leave but stopped suddenly, as if the air had frozen around him. He turned and looked at me with those piercing eyes that penetrate the walls of my soul, and spoke in a calm tone that was more lethal than a bullet:

”It’s better for you to be cooperative... otherwise, I will come in myself, Julie.”

His words echoed in my ears like a thunderclap, shaking my being and making me feel the hideousness of this threat.

It wasn’t just a warning; it was a weapon that shattered every bit of rebellion that had previously inhabited me, breaking me and turning my pride into thousands of scattered particles that could never be gathered.

He had robbed me even of the right to silent resistance, leaving me with two choices, both of them bitter: either submit to the doctor’s scalpel or face his presence that rapes my peace.

Robert finally left, but he didn’t truly go; he left behind a new torment gnawing at my insides and a threat that remained hung in the corners of the room like his heavy shadow.

I stood in my place, a lifeless corpse wrapped in a bedsheet, while the doctor approached me with her professional coldness that didn’t feel the tearing of my soul. She looked at me and said in a tone devoid of any sympathy:

”Come on... take off what’s on you.”