Taken for vengeance

Fear and disgust

Norah

Two days later,

Cold air sweeped through my skin as I drove back home from my music school, humming the song that plays on the speakers. I had always had a passion to learn music and become a singer who would confront people with their music. I had always believed in the power of music and the ability of music to cure even the agonizing emotions humanity could ever experience.

I had always dreamt of making a career in the music industry and creating comforting music just like BTS. I was not into K-pop but I had liked their music so much when I accidentally stumbled upon them. Since then, they have always served as an inspiration for me to learn music and work on my passion.

I still don't possess the ability to create good music, but I am working hard to learn, and making an effort to succeed.

I drove into the large gates of my home, the guards with guns greeted me with a simple nod which I returned, nodding back and smiling, as I drove deep into the gate. I pulled over and stepped out of the car, the warmth of the car disappearing as the cold misty wind sweeped through my skin.

I walked into the gigantic mansion, the guards surrounded everywhere, patrolling around the area. I entered the porch, walking deeper into the mansion, and strode toward the kitchen to grab a quick snack, but found Mom making quesadillas, her black hair styled in a low bun, and her floral-printed apron wrapped around her short frame.

I have inherited my Mom's hair and height, but my eyes don't match hers. Mom said that I had inherited my blue eyes from my father, who isn't alive anymore. I have no memory of my biological father. All my life, Matteo Williams was the one I had known as a father. He is a powerful man on the grounds of Chicago, a dangerous criminal to be exact, but he had been nice and loving toward the family and me. My mom had remarried Matteo after my biological father's death when I was a five-year-old. He treated me nothing like a stepdaughter, rather he is the opposite.

"Hi Mom," I said cheerfully, as she looked up at me, her neutral face transforming into a sweet smile as she said.

"Honey, you are finally home! You must be hungry. I have made you quesadillas, freshen up soon and come back for dinner."

"Okay, thanks, Mom," I said, peaking at her cheeks, and started for the stairs.

I ran to my bedroom, which was located upstairs, and I did quick work to freshen up and change into comfortable clothes as I rushed downstairs to satisfy my now grumbling stomach.

I climbed down the stairs and started to toward the dining hall but abruptly stopped in my tracks, my heart dropping to my stomach as I stood near the entrance of the dining hall, my body completely still, my breath stuck in my throat, my eyes glistening with tears as dread and disgust covered my interiors entirely, as I stared at the person who had taken his seat at the dining table with Mom and Dad, a wicked smile plastered on his pretty face while they have a conversation.

His personality is anything but pretty.

Nick Williams, my living nightmare, my stepbrother, was an arrogant bastard, a nasty spoiled son, and the only heir of the family. I hated him for the way he looked at me, at the way he touched me, at the way he abused me. My hate for him was so immense that I would dare to slay him in his sleep if it wasn't for Mom and Dad. He is 25 years old, a grown adult, yet a perverted, abusive bastard.

This had started a year ago, after I had turned 18. He touched me inappropriately while my parents weren't home, beat me brutally, and bled and scared my skin with a knife if I dared to struggle against his sinful touch as a punishment.

It hasn't stopped me from struggling while he touched me though.

And now my body is full of scars, as disgust coats my body whenever I look at myself in the mirror.

Everyone would be disgusted by a scarred woman, right?

He had moved into his own apartment about eight months ago and I had been relieved to breathe in my own home. But he visited us every now and then, reasoning that he wanted to pay a visit to my parents or wanted to talk business with Dad. I knew that he wouldn't return without laying his filthy hands on me.

I can't even inform Dad since Nick freaking Williams had threatened me that he would kill Mom if I spoke out about this to anyone.

Fucking bastard.

Olivia, my best friend from my music academy, was the only one who had ever known about this. She was the only one who had soothed and eased me through this. But for some unknown reason, she has been absent for a week from the music academy. She hadn't contacted me either.

Without her smoothing console, dealing with him has been more problematic and unbearable.

A few days ago, he had broken into my bedroom, drunk and naked, while I was sleeping. He had tried to forcefully stuff his d**k into my mouth while I had struggled against him the whole time, crying silently for help. Thanks to Jacob, my personal bodyguard, who had stumbled outside my room and had come to save me before I could get r*ped.

My eyes glisten with unshed tears from the mere recollection of that night.

I turned around, my appetite to eat lost as I tried to walk away before anyone could catch sight of me, wanting to lock myself up in the bedroom. I had almost reached the stairs when his filthy voice reached my ears, my heart beat rapidly, the insides trickled with sensations, and not in a good way.

"Hey, Norah."

My name had never sounded so filthy as it sounded coming out of his mouth. My nervousness at its peak, my eyes staring at the floor like it had all the solutions to my current problems, I stood there for a long moment, gathering up some courage to turn and walk to the dining table.

After what he had done a few days ago, my fear of him had reached a new level, a million times higher than it already was.

I turned around as I lifted my eyes from the ground to watch his lips tilt upwards in a smirk. He motioned for me to sit on the seat beside him.

Fuck, the f*****g bastard dared to break into my room and now behaved like nothing wrong has happened in front of our parents.

I suppressed my thoughts as I forcefully moved my legs to walk to the seat and sit beside him. Three pairs of eyes are intent on me, making me nervous as hell. My nape prickled, not in a good way, indicating that his sinful eyes were on me as I brought myself to take a seat hesitantly.

Mom passed me a plate of quesadillas cut into triangular portions, chicken soup, and salad as we began to eat dinner in not so comfortable silence.

The situation is anything but comfy for me.

My breath hitched, and my heart rose rapidly when I felt his big, rough hand ghosting on my bare thigh without hesitaton under the table. My body stilled, my heart dropping to my stomach, a huge lump stuck in my throat, and my eyes watering again, as I stiffened my grip on my fork. I sneaked a hand under the table to snatch my thighs away from his hold, but his firm grip turned bruising as he applied pressure to my thighs, squeezing my flesh there.

I suppressed a sob, as I tried to shove his hand away, but his nails dug into my soft flesh, moving higher and higher to reach my intimate area, through my shorts.

I felt a shiver run down my spine, my voice was about to break into a sob, my skin crawling from his sinful touches as I felt his fingers brushing my cotton panties.

Just then, at the right time, Dad's concerned voice filled the air as he addressed me, the big, rough hand on my thigh retreating, a four-finger-shaped bruise left behind from the tight grip.

"Norah, are you okay? You don't look well, are you sick, dear?"

I forced a smile, my heart still pounding in my ears loudly as I suppressed my urge to break into tears, the coldness of his hands leaving behind disgusting sensations that still lingered on my thigh as I forced out a smile as I said quietly.

"I am alright, Dad, don't worry about me."

My voice felt shaking, tension lingering in my voice, fear still lurking inside my heart, my skin crawling in disgust.

"Well, Nick, what about Adrian?"

Dad asked the perverted man beside me, talking about stupid mafia stuff, as I forced myself to shove away the urge to leave the table and run to the safety of my room as I took a bite, pushing myself to chew and swallow.

I felt disgusted, as adrenaline rushed into my brain, the feel of his fingers on my skin a moment ago still lingering, my instincts telling me to shove a knife down his throat in front of our parents.

"I attacked his family a few nights ago. They are dead now, he will stay down like a pained animal, and we have nothing to worry about."

He says, no flicker of guilt or shame in his eyes as he says those words like it doesn't matter who died in his hands, his hazel eyes filled with amusement and triumph, and his voice coming out smooth as butter. I cannot believe I have been touched by a monster and his blood-coated hands were on me a moment ago.

I shoved some more food down my throat, eating to leave the table as soon as possible, as I rushed to retreat to my bedroom once I was done.

I closed and locked the door behind me, as I jumped to the mattress, face first, a sob breaking through my voice, cutting through the silence of my room.

Another sob breaking free and another and another as the quiet sound of my sobs filled the room.

And I cried myself to sleep like any other night.