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Aquí veremos y conoceremos una de las razones por las que no debemos romantizar el hecho de ser madres, muchos dicen qu...
También en inkitt con el mismo título
How To Hide A Body - Prologue (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/371482144-how-to-hide-a-body-prologue?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Ashes024&wp_originator=HYOXx%2B9BYbjamshoojtNVi6fKs9WuJhBpNX5IbS5oXjQM973ozDf%2BtClVsL8WqfZLAU%2BFPSH7v3f10EqvNk3DBK9V5T3T6VY2Ds9TnEcjE2ejJFpuhaQizjvJat26Lj9 Solange Southwood is a professional criminal. It runs in the family. She's helped countless notorious criminals and has only been in jail once. However, suddenly there are new rules to a game she didn't know she had been playing. Someone blackmails her. In order to preserve her identity and save the ones she loves, she must complete a set of tasks, all of which are outrageous. Will she succeed? Cover credits: @SilverBluinse
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“You’re a man… a man of your w-word, aren’t you, Harry.” Each word was a stabbing pain in my jaw. I looked up at Harry, my perfect, ideal Harry, and spit blood onto the floor. “Respect and obedience are learned, yeah? All of this because of an accidental burn… A man of integrity.” I wheezed out the last word.
“Are you saying I enjoy this?”
A strong hand grabbed the front of my hoodie and pulled me up. I held his wrist and somehow got my footing so I wasn’t just hanging there. I met his gaze and smiled, tipping my head the way a puppy does when it’s owner says something it vaguely recognizes. The scent of blood was strong, it was all I could taste.
“God, no, love, that would make you a monster.” I sucked back a glob of snot from my running sinuses. It was salty and slimy, bitter and sweet when it mixed into the blood filling my mouth. I spit it right into Harry’s face.
I know it’s coming and I tense as much as I can. Knowing what is coming doesn’t soften the blow and the punch to my abdomen sends me to the floor. I hit and Harry is on me, driving kicks into my chest and stomach, his words gruff. Something splits in my side. The radiating pain takes me away, inside of myself to some ancient place that knows how to cope with this kind of agony. My vision is blotchy, scattered with violent colors that merge and move without pattern or design. The wall of torture is crippling, but Harry’s face fades back into view.
I’ve never seen him look so furious as I scrabble feebly at the hands that picked me up. He slammed me into the door, knocking the air out of my lungs and jostling the picture on the will. Again my back hit the door. My head bounced off it, controlled by the hand that now held my neck. I scratched at his hands, clawed the skin until it came off in clumps under my nails. When it didn’t phase him, I wrenched his hand free and I bit him. I sunk my teeth into his wrist until I tasted fresh blood. Harry let out a harsh, half-stifled yell. I struggled free and bolted.
I’ve never been afraid of monsters, per say. I do believe they exist, but I don’t think they are the ones living under my bed or the furry creatures who jump out to spook you in the night. I know what a monster is, and I had stared right into his eyes. My monster wasn’t green or purple. In fact, he hated purple so much, he forced me to wear it on my arms and face. My monster didn’t scare me when I slept. No, he terrified me when he came home. He terrified me in my dreams. He terrified me because I loved him.
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LOS INVITO A LEER ESTA PEQUEÑA PRACTICA DE ESCRITURA QUE HACE HACE UN TIEMPO.
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