La beatitudine dell'angelo

La beatitudine dell'angelo

Dripping Creativity

217.1k Words / Completed
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Introduction

"Stai lontano, stai lontano da me, stai lontano," gridava, ancora e ancora. Continuava a gridare anche se sembrava che avesse finito le cose da lanciare. Zane era più che un po' interessato a sapere esattamente cosa stesse succedendo. Ma non riusciva a concentrarsi con quella donna che faceva tutto quel baccano.

"Vuoi stare zitta, cazzo!" le urlò contro. Lei tacque e lui vide le lacrime iniziare a riempirle gli occhi, le labbra tremavano. Oh cazzo, pensò. Come la maggior parte degli uomini, una donna che piangeva lo spaventava a morte. Avrebbe preferito una sparatoria con cento dei suoi peggiori nemici piuttosto che dover affrontare una donna che piange.

"E il tuo nome è?" chiese.

"Ava," gli rispose con una voce sottile.

"Ava Cobler?" voleva sapere. Il suo nome non era mai suonato così bello prima, la sorprese. Quasi si dimenticò di annuire. "Il mio nome è Zane Velky," si presentò, tendendole una mano. Gli occhi di Ava si fecero più grandi quando sentì il nome. Oh no, non quello, qualsiasi cosa ma non quello, pensò.

"Hai sentito parlare di me," sorrise, sembrava soddisfatto. Ava annuì. Tutti quelli che vivevano in città conoscevano il nome Velky, era il più grande gruppo mafioso dello stato con il suo centro nella città. E Zane Velky era il capo della famiglia, il don, il grande capo, il boss supremo, l'Al Capone del mondo moderno. Ava sentì il suo cervello in preda al panico andare fuori controllo.

"Calmati, angelo," le disse Zane e le mise una mano sulla spalla. Il suo pollice scese davanti alla sua gola. Se avesse stretto, avrebbe fatto fatica a respirare, Ava se ne rese conto, ma in qualche modo la sua mano calmò la sua mente. "Brava ragazza. Tu ed io dobbiamo parlare," le disse. La mente di Ava si ribellava all'essere chiamata ragazza. La irritava anche se era spaventata. "Chi ti ha colpito?" chiese. Zane spostò la mano per inclinare la sua testa di lato così da poter guardare la sua guancia e poi il suo labbro.

******************Ava viene rapita e costretta a rendersi conto che suo zio l'ha venduta alla famiglia Velky per saldare i suoi debiti di gioco. Zane è il capo del cartello della famiglia Velky. È duro, brutale, pericoloso e mortale. La sua vita non ha spazio per l'amore o le relazioni, ma ha bisogni come qualsiasi uomo dal sangue caldo.

Avvertenze:
Discussioni su SA
Problemi di immagine corporea
Leggero BDSM
Descrizioni dettagliate di aggressioni
Autolesionismo
Linguaggio crudo
Read More

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Dripping Creativity

Chapter 1

Ava parcheggiò e scese dall'auto. Sbadigliò senza riuscire a trattenersi, mentre recuperava le buste della spesa dal bagagliaio. Dopo aver lavorato dalle sette del mattino e ora essendo ben oltre le dieci di sera, era esausta. In ospedale mancava personale, così aveva accettato un turno in più. Avevano bisogno di soldi extra e Ava si sentiva sempre in colpa per i suoi colleghi se non dava una mano. Non è che avesse figli o un marito che l'aspettavano a casa.

Guardò la casa, era stranamente buia quella sera. Di solito, zia e zio erano seduti in salotto a guardare uno dei loro programmi preferiti.. Ma non c'era nessuna luce tremolante che proveniva dalla finestra. Forse erano usciti. A volte lo zio Jonas portava la zia Laura fuori per la serata. Ad Ava non piaceva quando i due uscivano. Di solito tornavano a casa nel mezzo della notte ubriachi e rumorosi. Zia Laura non si faceva problemi a bere e a dire ad Ava tutto quello che, secondo lei, doveva cambiare di sé. Il peso era sempre al primo posto tra i suoi rimproveri, seguito dal fatto che Ava doveva aiutare di più in casa. Ava non pensava di essere così sovrappeso e faceva del suo meglio per aiutare. Ma le parole della zia sembravano sempre trovare i suoi punti deboli.

Ava sospirò e iniziò a salire i tre gradini che conducevano al portico d'ingresso. Andrebbero cambiati: il primo scricchiolava e si fletteva sotto il suo peso, emettendo un gemito. Ava fece i conti nella sua testa, non avrebbe potuto permettersi di chiamare un tuttofare. Ma forse poteva usare il suo giorno libero per procurarsi i materiali e fare il lavoro da sola. Era sicura di poter trovare un tutorial su internet che le mostrasse come fare. Prese le chiavi per aprire la porta, ma la trovò già socchiusa. Ava aggrottò le sopracciglia, suo zio e sua zia non l'avevano chiusa a chiave prima di uscire? Entrò nel corridoio buio e accese la luce. Tutto sembrava al suo posto. Entrò nel soggiorno e lasciò cadere le borse quando vide zia e zio distesi sulla moquette, legati. Ava impiegò un attimo a realizzare cosa stesse succedendo. Ma quando lo fece, corse verso i suoi parenti. Avvicinandosi, poté vedere le loro ferite alla luce fioca della lampada nel corridoio. Zia aveva il labbro spaccato, era legata e imbavagliata. Zio era più livido che altro, e privo di sensi. Il sangue colava da diverse ferite sul suo viso e dal naso e dalla bocca.

"Zia Laura, cos'è successo?" chiese Ava mentre iniziava a sciogliere il bavaglio della zia.

"Io non lo farei, fossi in te, tesora," disse una voce rauca da dietro Ava. Ava trasalì per la sorpresa, ma prima che potesse reagire, qualcuno la afferrò per la coda di cavallo e la strattonò all'indietro. Ava urlò per il dolore e il terrore che ora le attraversava il corpo. Cercò di afferrare la mano che la stringeva, per liberarsi dalla presa. Cosa sta succedendo? pensò mentre cercava di liberarsi.

"Ora, ora, non fare la stupida," le disse una seconda voce. Girò la testa e guardò un uomo dall'aspetto rude. Era magro ma sembrava capace di cavarsela in una rissa.  I suoi occhi freddi la fissavano, privi di rimorso o pietà.

"Per favore, cosa volete?" gridò Ava a lui. L'uomo le diede uno schiaffo sulla bocca e Ava sentì il sapore del rame in bocca.

"Stai zitta e fai come ti dico, stronza," l'uomo le ringhiò. Sentì ridere l'uomo alle sue spalle, quello che la teneva per i capelli. Non riusciva a vederlo. Ava fu tirata in piedi e l'uomo dietro di lei le afferrò il polso e lo torse dietro la schiena. Urlò dal dolore, sentendo la spalla cedere.

"Stronza lamentosa, non riesci neanche a sopportare un po' di dolore. Vedremo quanto durerà," rise l'uomo che ora era di fronte a lei. Era basso, Ava si rese conto che arrivava a malapena al suo naso. Lo guardò dall'alto in basso e fu attraversata da un brivido di terrore quando incrociò il suo sguardo. Era in grossi guai, e lo sapeva. Quello che non sapeva era perché.

"Per favore, non abbiamo molto, ma posso mostrarti dove è l'argento, e ho qualche gioiello che puoi prendere. Solo, non farci del male," Ava cercò di implorare. Il suo tentativo fu ricompensato con un altro schiaffo.

"Ti ho detto di stare zitta. Fottuta stronza, non vogliamo i tuoi gioielli pacchiani o il tuo fottuto argento," le sibilò contro. Ava emise un singhiozzo. La sua guancia sinistra bruciava e cominciava a gonfiarsi, il labbro era spaccato e iniziava a temere per la sua vita. Se non volevano i loro beni, cosa volevano?

"Andiamo, usciamo da qui," disse la voce dietro di lei. Ava fu travolta da un senso di sollievo: finalmente se ne stavano andando. Una volta che se ne fossero andati, avrebbe potuto liberare lo zio e la zia e portare lo zio in ospedale. L'uomo basso scrollò le spalle e iniziò a camminare verso la porta del garage. Ma il sollievo di Ava svanì in un attimo quando sentì l'uomo alle sue spalle trascinarla via con sé.

"C-cosa stai facendo?" chiese disperatamente. Ci fu una risata fredda proveniente da dietro di lei.

"Davvero pensavi che avremmo lasciato andare una bambolina come te?" Una voce le sussurrò all'orecchio. Ava poteva sentire il respiro umido contro la sua pelle, e rabbrividì di ribrezzo.

"Per favore, non portarmi via. Per favore, per favore," implorò e iniziò a lottare contro l'uomo che la spingeva in avanti.

"Fermati o lascerò che il mio amico ti scopi davanti a tuo zio e tua zia," disse la voce dietro di lei. Ava si immobilizzò, sentendo un gelo attraversarle le viscere. "Questo ha attirato la tua attenzione, vero?" ridacchiò. "Non dirmi che sei vergine, non con un culo scopabile come il tuo," disse, usando la mano libera per afferrarle e stringerle il sedere. Ava era davvero vergine, ma non avrebbe mai ammesso una cosa simile a quell’uomo. Scosse solo la testa. "Non pensavo. Il mio amico non si farebbe problemi a darti una scopata veloce per farti stare zitta. Io, non sono interessato a questo. No, vorrei portarti in un posto privato, lontano da orecchie indiscrete. Le cose che ti farei con il mio coltello, saresti un'opera d'arte quando avrei finito," le disse in un sussurro. Il cuore di Ava batteva come le ali di un colibrì mentre il suo corpo si sentiva freddo. La sua mente era sprofondata nel vuoto più totale. La pura paura scorreva nelle sue vene. Mentre l'uomo la spingeva attraverso la porta del garage, agganciò le gambe alla ringhiera dei tre gradini che scendevano. Le strinse forte attorno a uno dei pali, rifiutandosi di mollare la presa anche quando l'uomo cercò di tirarla via. "Lascia andare," ringhiò. Ava scosse la testa e si aggrappò alla ringhiera come se la sua vita dipendesse da quello. Con la coda dell'occhio vide l'uomo basso avvicinarsi a loro. Sentì un clic e sentì il freddo metallo contro la tempia.

"Lascia andare, o ti metto una pallottola nel cervello," le disse l'uomo basso con voce bassa. Per un istante, Ava pensò quasi di lasciargli premere il grilletto. Qualunque cosa stessero pianificando di farle una volta usciti dalla casa, sapeva che non sarebbe stata piacevole. Sarebbe stato meglio morire? Ma cambiò idea. Qualunque cosa fosse, la vita era meglio della morte. E forse, se l'avessero portata altrove, avrebbe potuto chiedere aiuto a qualcuno. Non c'era speranza nella morte, solo la vita la offriva. Ava lasciò che le gambe diventassero molli e quando i due uomini la trascinarono verso il grande SUV nero, iniziò a singhiozzare. L'uomo dietro di lei le prese l'altra mano e la tirò dietro la schiena. Sentì e udì le fascette stringersi intorno ai polsi.

L'uomo basso aprì la portiera posteriore e lei fu spinta dentro, sdraiata a pancia in giù sul sedile. Qualcuno le afferrò le gambe, le piegò e le legò con altre fascette prima di chiudere la portiera. Ava era sdraiata, faccia in giù, con le lacrime che le scorrevano sul viso. Sentiva il sedile bagnarsi mentre continuava a singhiozzare. "Smettila. Quel piagnucolio è fottutamente fastidioso," disse l'uomo basso. Era salito sul sedile anteriore e l'altro uomo si sedette al posto di guida. Da quello che Ava poteva vedere, era un uomo grande con muscoli che si gonfiavano sotto la maglietta nera. Era calvo e la pelle che copriva i suoi muscoli era ricoperta di tatuaggi colorati.

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And when he looked at me, I knew there was no where else to run to.
Take you Fall into Fantasy.

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