Page 118 of Forgive Me, Father
“Oh, so what?I’m the sick one?I like to kill innocent women?”He laughed.“No,bella.I’m done.He unraveled me the moment he silenced her.Now, he has to pay for what he’s done.An eye for a fucking eye.”
I heard his words, but they didn’t add up.First, he said this was about his sister—now he was calling her the only woman he’d ever loved.
None of it made sense.
Unless.“You were in love with your sister?”
He snarled, and I knew I’d hit a nerve.
The laugh escaped before I could stop it—sharp, reckless, defiant.I didn’t even know why.I just couldn’t help myself.
He struck me across the face again—harder this time, the crack of it ringing in my ears.
The pain was sharp, blinding, but at least I didn’t black out.This time, I stayed conscious.
It felt like he was trying to knock my head clean off my shoulders.
When the haze cleared, the first thing I felt was the burning in my arms, then the throb pulsing along one side of my face.
I lifted my head slowly and glared at him through the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut.
“Good,” he said, voice low and cruel.“Now you’re starting to understand how this is going to work.I know your husband likes to cut, found Feliz covered in them.”
He picked up a knife, the blade catching the light.
My stomach turned.Alfonso had never touched me with anything likethat.
The man came over.
“It’s not like that,” I tried to say, but the words barely left my mouth before his hand slashed across the skin of my stomach.
A searing burn followed, white-hot and instant.
The bastard laughed—like it was a game.
First came the warmth, then the wetness that trickled down my legs.When it hit the floor, the sound echoed in my ears, sharp and unrelenting.
He cursed under his breath.“You pissed yourself?It’s just a fucking cut—and not even deep.What sort of a Don wife are you?”
Shame—the kind no one should ever have to feel—flooded through me, cold and suffocating.
“I know how to cut,bella, how to make a killing last.Torture is not just your husband’s preferred method.It’s mine too.And everything he did to my Feliz?I’m going to do twenty thousand times worse to you.I’m going to take off your face and send that to him first.And then rape you, over and over, before I’ll send him whatever is left of your cunt.”
His words twisted in my gut, fear coiling tight as the cut burned through me.
The heat spread, searing across my skin.
He kept talking, but I had stopped listening the moment he said that.I knew he was twisted enough to follow through.His words weren’t just threats—they were meant to break me, to make me fear him.And he was getting a sick thrill from it.
“What shall we start with?”he sneered, his laugh low and twisted.“Ah, I know.Wait right here.”
He turned on his heel, leaving me alone, the sound of his footsteps fading as the air around me thickened with dread.
I screamed as loud as I could while he was gone, desperate for someone—anyone—to hear me.
But there was nothing.No one stopped, no one came.No one answered.Just silence, thick and suffocating.
The door creaked open again, and he stepped inside, holding a bucket of water and a sponge.
