The Mafia's Runaway Wife

Harper- A year to remember

Memories flood in harder than tsunami waves. It's a cruel analogy, but there’s no other way to describe it.

Stupid, right? To think that I found peace in a man who bought me for 45 billion dollars in an underground s*x slave auction.

A man who used every opportunity to remind me that he owned me, every opportunity to remind me that I had no position, every opportunity to humiliate me as an excuse to keep me humbled.

My parents always joked about their marriage, and mom would always say “love makes you stupid, why else would I be with your father?”

After being bought by Roman and falling in love with him, for the four years I was with him, I used those words from my mother like a mantra. They helped me rationalize and cope with my predicament until I no longer believed those words.

In the end, I realized I was more stupid than in love. Hell, some might even say I had Stockholm syndrome. He bought me, but also saved me. Saved me from Rollo’s ice prison, from the beatings, the drugs, from sharing a cell full of filth with four other girls, from the attempted rapes that would eventually happen.

He saved me, then broke me. He took me to his home and left me in the care of the maids. They didn’t attempt to talk to me, just did their jobs and let me be.

I overheard their conversations about the black girl they’re forced to accommodate. I noticed their looks of disdain and disgust for the black junkie that they had to serve and clean after while I suffered from withdrawals. And for the first time, I felt lonely.

Even imprisoned, I had Ana and Willow to talk to. I thought them so sign so our conversations could stay ours. But now I had no one. I was already told that I would never get to see or talk to my friends again.

For the first three months, I saw him less than five times. He never spoke, just looked at me. After three months, he started coming around and staying home at least three times a week. He spoke, trying to make light conversation, but I never responded. I stayed silent for a year. Sometimes I wanted to, but I couldn't seem to find the word. To be honest, I didn’t even remember what my voice sounded like.

Eight months, he kept his visiting schedule and small talks, but some things changed. The maids started coming only on his days of the visit, but the guards were always around. I was only able to eat when he visited and allowed. The garden that I had found peace in over the eight months became off-limits.

At eleven months, the same routine but now there’s no hot water to shower, and was only allowed three changes of clothes. I never questioned anything, there was no need. I knew I was being punished. The reason didn’t matter. The living conditions were far better than Rollo’s, but I was still a slave. An overpaid slave that would constantly be reminded of such.

Like Vlad and Chess said, I was nothing but Roman’s overpriced pet. From what I know, pets don’t speak. So, I didn’t. And I’ll be damned if they thought I would bark.

Eventually, it became a year. Like a convicted felon, I tallied the days on the walls of my so-called room since I wasn’t allowed any writing utensils.

A small part of me assumed that the remainder of my life was going to be how it has been that past year and if that was the case I could accept it, but there was the remaining part that expected it to get worse.

To my surprise, it was a collection of the two. On the year anniversary of being bought by Roman, all the staff returned, the hot water was available, I received three meals a day, I was able to go back to the garden whenever I wanted to. But most importantly, I got to see and talk to Ana and Willow once a week.

It took us three months after that for the three of us to talk to each other verbally, and once that happened, we were banned from signing. We made the mistake of signing once during a social event, thinking no one noticed. We were thrown into and locked in our rooms and starved for a week.

Ana had it worse, she got hit every day of that week. Willow had it better. She wasn't fed but still received water, books to read, and paper to write on. Plus, Vlad visited every day with the promise of a better life. I, on the other hand, was left to my own accord, no food, no water, no visitors, and, thank goodness, no hits.

After that week, we did our best to follow orders. We responded when spoken to, we ate whenever food was provided, we smiled just enough when taken to social functions, and eventually became the almost “perfect pets”.

Eventually, I lost track of time, it got too depressing trying to keep up with it. Time didn’t stop the loneliness, it didn’t stop the nightmares, didn’t stop me from missing my parents, from wondering about my brother. No, if anything, it made it worse. Worse until I started begging for whatever drugs Rollo had me on.

The only thing that kept me sane was seeing the girls once a week. Willow always had stories to tell about her new life and adventures with Vlad. And even though Ana and I weren’t as fortunate, we reveled in her fortune. We were happy that at least one of us would make out of this alive.

Yeah, I’m definitely crazy. Why else would I still be stuck on stupid about someone like Roman? Why would I still feel grateful even though it caused so much pain?