Chapter 22: Chapter 22

Chapter 22 Darkness

Darkness.

Cold.

Concrete.

As I peel my eyes open, my body is drenched in the dim light of a cold cell. My bones ache from the chilly draft that seeps through my pores, and my head sears with a pounding force.

I wish this was just another horrible nightmare that keeps me up at night.

I wish these chains around my bare ankles was just a figment of my imagination that would disappear the moment I open my eyes.

But this is not all some terrible nightmare.

No, this is something much more worse, more sinister.

This is reality.

The stench of my captivity reeks with mold and stale water. The thick, iron bars caging me in trap me in the darkness, and a layer of dust covers my bruised body like a thin blanket.

Coughing, I struggle to sit up, and when I finally do my body groans in protest. I try to ignore the pain, and my eyes flicker around in an attempt to take everything in.

Where am I?

But I can't exactly tell where I am, as everything is much too dim.

The cell is all too familiar to me. Once again, I am caged.

But unlike other times, this time, I am completely clueless as to why. Who would want me this time? Who would have possibly taken me, and what's the purpose of this?

Perhaps Mark is some kind of serial rapist?

Possibilities pop into my mind, and yet, I still remain clueless.

The fear in my heart is too great, and my body is on full alert.

Think....you have to survive.

I sit in the back far corner, with my knees curled into my body to keep me warm from the chilly draft that blows into my cell like an arctic wind.

The sound of the prison is surprisingly quiet, with maybe a few groans and hushed mumbles here and there.

Who knew that silence could be so loud?

Only the rhythm of my own, quickened heart beat pounds through my ears anxiously.

And so when I finally heard the sound of footsteps, it filled my mind with relief. The sound of the footsteps echo in the distance, slapping against the cold concrete floors.

But my relief is short lived.

Because these footsteps are getting closer and closer, and it isn't long before the owner of these footsteps appear in my vision.

A man.

The shadows cast upon his face, shading his features as he blends into the dark like a creature of the night. Half of his face is veiled in shadows, and the part of his face that is revealed in the dim light, I notice the curve of his lips, which are pulled into a smirk. I notice the outline of the bridge of his nose.

His dark hair frames his angular face in the dark.

The man wears the darkness well.

Very well indeed.

But despite this man being cloaked in darkness, I can still tell who it is.

The one eye which isn't shaded in darkness glows with an intent that I do not recognize. His iris color gives his identity away, as the shadows conceal half of his mysterious face.

"Mark." I spit angrily.

"Indeed." He replies coolly as he crams the keys to my cell lock and wings the bars opens.

He steps towards me aggressively.

"I have to take you to my Boss now. Get up, now." He commands sternly.

Boss?

So Mark isn't hear to rape me?

Despite the lingering fear in my body, I do as he says.

I unwrap my arms from my knees, and stand on my two feet. I feel a little dizzy from the head wound I sustained, but I can manage. His grip is harsh on my arm as he leads me out of the dark, damp cell and up into the light.

The light blinds my eyes, and I try to block it out with my free hand.

"Walk faster." Mark grits through his teeth. His voice is laced with hate, and it sends chills up my spine.

His tone of voice is all too familiar.

Breathe, Dakota. You're not with your dad anymore....

Mark drags me to a large, fancy room. It's definitely an office of some sort, but the room is decorated in that of a way like royalty. There's Victorian style wallpaper and a long, wooden table with many chairs that sits atop a rather expensive looking red rug.

Deep red curtains frame the two long windows that sit proudly above the table.

And in the corner of the room, a man dressed in a dark suit stands. His hands are clasped behind his back, and a fancy watch hangs from his wrist.

Next to him, stands a woman of shorter stature. She wears equally as fancy clothing as the man. And just like him, her back is faced to me, hiding her face.

"Boss, I have here." Mark says in a polite manor as not to upset the Boss.

"Excellent. Bring her here." The man says.

And so he does.

And much to my dismay, I am now standing close to the strange man and woman.

But when they both turn around to face me, nothing could prepare me for what happens next.

My mouth feels dry, my body freezes up, my hands are clammy, and terror strikes my heart. My jaw drops to the floor, and I am utterly speechless when both the man and woman turn around.

No...

It can't be.....

I'm just seeing things.....

But, in shock, I am unable to hold in my words any longer.

And for the first time in over a decade, the word that I once adorned leaves my lips.

"Mom?!" I exclaim.

The woman in front of me resembles me in a lot of ways. We are the same in stature, and our eye color is both blue. The woman doesn't look at me, rather, she looks at the floor.

Coward.

I feel angry, betrayed, and sad all at once.

Angry because she left me, betrayed because she lied to me, and sad because I've never had a mother figure when I was growing up.

"You may leave us now, Mark." Speaks the man in a strong, unfamiliar accent that I could neither say it was Russian or Italian.

Mark leaves us, and I am left standing there, feeling as if the world I once thought I knew comes crashing down around me.

"You're probably are wondering what's going on." The man says.

"H-how? How is my mom alive? Is this some sort of a sick joke?" I say angrily, my hands fisted to my sides. My emotions are everywhere.

"Do not interrupt me, woman. I will explain." Says the man in an impatient tone of voice.

"My name is Lars, and I am the leader of the Dutch Mafia." Says the man as my eyes widen.

What?

"Th-the mafia?" I say, dumbfounded.

I can hardly talk as shock washes over me like a wave. How in the world could a measly woman like me end up in the arms of the mafia? And, on top of that, my own mother is associated with them. Did my mom possibly leave me for this kind of luxury? Is she not the mom I thought she was?

The little memories I do have of her are bright, but was she all faking the smiles, the happiness with me?

Angered at these thoughts, I call out.

"How could you do this to me? You're not worthy to be called my mom! You left me alone and helpless with that....that monster of a man you had married! How could any mother leave their child in the hands of danger?"

"I....please calm down." My mom says softly.

But her words are but a mist in a raging ocean.

"Me, calm down? You're telling me to calm down!? I just found out my mom, whom I thought was dead, is actually alive and is associated with this Mafia, and you're telling me to calm down?" I spit angrily.

"No...please, let me-"

"You left me, didn't you? You left me for this kind of luxurious life. Is my life not worth more than all of this?"

Anger clouds my judgement, and I can feel as the emotion takes over my body. My hands shake and my heart pounds furiously. Hot tears of anger stream down my face, but I do my best to hide them and wipe them away.

My mom looks sad, but I don't care.

I hate her.

I hate her for leaving me behind at the hands of vile men.

I hate her for betraying me for luxury.

"Tell me, is this kind of lifestyle worth leaving for the scars on my back? Or how about the mental trauma I am tormented with? Was all this money and luxury worth leaving your daughter to be eaten alive by the violent dogs of this society?" I yell, desperately seeking answers.

But she is silent.

She says nothing.

Her actions speak louder then words.

Pathetic.

If she would have took me with her, she would have spared me from a whole lot of more abuse and pain. Part of my life has been damaged permanently. My body and my mind cry out for justice as I remember all the pain I went through.

I would not have had to go through most of it if she would have taken me with her.

"I hate you!" I scream at her, my eyebrows furrowing and my fists clenched at me sides. I start to walk quickly over to her. Fire flames in my eyes and anger rips at my heart.

I am livid.

"Mark! Escort Dakota back to her cell!" Barks Lars.

I am stopped abruptly by Mark as he yanks me back harshly by my arms.

"No! Let me go!" I hysterically scream.

"We will continue this discussion after this....girl has calmed down. I will explain her purpose later." Says Lars as he turns his back on me and walks away.

My mom, however, continues to stand their watching me as I am dragged away by Mark.

My mom just shakes her head sadly at me, and is about to turn away.

"Don't you dare turn your back from me and walk away! Don't you have any remorse for what you've done? If you walk away from me now without saying something, anything, I will never forgive you." I hiss.

My mom just gives me one last look before turning away.

She turned her back on me.

She turned her back on me, and walked away.

"I hate you! I hate you, do you hear me?" I scream as I choke back a sob.

I slump defeated in Mark's arms at a lost.

Mark doesn't say anything as he proceeds to drag me down the steps of the prison. Silence encases the both of us as he throws me in my cell, and walks away.

He leaves me alone just like everyone has done to me in my life.

And when the silence becomes to much for me to bear, I break down.

The deep emotional pain brings me to my knees, where the cold, scratchy floor shows no mercy upon my delicate skin. I lay my head down upon my hands, when finally, the first hot tear of my anguish escapes my eye, and proceeds to hit the floor.

The light of the dimming day wraps me in its shadows; my face painted by the moonlight which paints barred shadows upon my face.

Why must I go through all of this painful turmoil?

What is the meaning of all this?

Can't the cruelty of this world just leave me alone?

My mind aches with the questions I have no answers for.

And then, the once silent prison is silent no more.

Why?

Because the first cry of agony leaves my lips.

The cry bounces off the walls, and soon finds its way back to my own ears.

The first sob is followed by another and another, until my body is wracked with painful sobs that echo through the dingy chambers. My body trembles and a deep feeling of depression lurks in my chest.

I cry for the life I have lived.

I cry for the choices I am faced with.

And I cry for the mother whom I have lost.

No, she's not dead, but she might as well be.