His Underestimated Princess

Kayla Santino.

(Trigger warning: mention of rape and abuse)

I revised my blonde wig in my car's mirror to make sure everything is in position. I want this mission to go as accurately as possible. My green lens goes well with the wig and with the heavy make-up added to my face, I look completely different.

He won't recognize me. I painted my lips a deep red to add to my made-up look, and no doubt it's eye-catching. My red little dress is long enough to cover the holster holding my gun and my switchblade knives securely.

The cold night air hits me with force making goosebumps appear on my soft skin as I exit the comfort of my car.

Adjusting my black long coat, I make my way to 'Moreno's Den' a club known for VIPs from the mafia and other famous business moguls.

It's no place for the less fortunate, perfect for doing dirty because no one gives a fuck.

I majestically step into the club with slow calculated steps making sure to add a sway on my hips as I examine the environment.

My heels click noisily on the floor but the sound is absorbed by the loud music blaring through the speakers, making this place more qualifying for what am here to do tonight.

I ignore the eyes trailing after me because tonight only one person will be honored to have my company.

And according to my informant, he's probably already here or yet to arrive. Today it's just him, and I have all the time in the world to wait for that particular someone.

Travis fucking Santiago.

I ease myself onto the high bar stool and order a whiskey, keeping my eyes on the entrance not to lose my target who is yet to arrive. I don't want to miss out on him whatsoever.

I swirl the brown liquid on my tongue loving how it burns my taste buds and down to my throat.

To think this liquid could save me, I was highly mistaken because it did nothing but give me horrendous hangovers and headaches every morning, and yet, the horrible feelings still came back doubled. I hope tonight will make me feel better.

Am here to feel better.

In our world, we live by the notion of killing or being killed. It's a matter of survival to the fittest, and being my father's only daughter am not an exception.

It's a world they don't give a fuck if you are a woman or a child provided their twisted starvation is satisfied.

6 months ago a man named Grayson Scott, my father's rival, kidnapped me to get back at him.

I mark his words ' The best way to hurt someone is by hurting the person closer to their heart" and to my father, am his only family, and he doesn't neglect to show how much I am closer to his heart.

The man Grayson, also an American mafia boss wanted an alliance with my father but he rejected his offer because the man is pure evil.

He does every kind of sick shit. From trafficking women and forcing them into prostitution also raping them is no big deal to him.

My dad didn't want that kind of business because he only specializes in guns and drugs.

So the old fucker started stealing my dad's shipments and when he retaliated he got mad and kidnapped me, tortured me, and had his men take rounds at me, after taking my innocence himself.

Just so to hurt my dad and I can attest he did. But he hurt me more than one can ever imagine.

I was hopelessly tied to a metal chair in a wet cold cell crying and begging while they had their fun. It was the hardest two weeks of my life.

I thought I could die and at that time I begged them to kill me but they laughed at my tears instead.

They kept me hungry for days, that cell was awful. It still makes my skin crawl when I think about it. It smelt of dried blood and it was foul. Anytime I tried sleeping they would wake me up with damn cold water. My body was buttered and weak.

Did they care? No

Instead, it amused them. I would watch them take photos and videos every time they abused me. Do you know what they did with them? They sent them to my father.

Sick fuckers.

After they had enough of my body, they decided to get rid of me by selling me. Yes, they're that twisted. By good luck, I was rescued by my future husband whom I haven't met yet.

I was exhausted and passed out so when I woke up in the hospital bed I was told he was the one who saved me, story for another day.

I have been to therapy after therapy but non of it worked.

I spend most of my time training to keep my mind off things but to no avail. Every time I close my eyes I see them ripping my clothes, I hear their obnoxious laughter in my head.