A Beautiful Mistake

I slip into Melina's sun-drenched bedroom, morning light streaming through her sheer white curtains and casting warm patterns across her pale blue walls. The breakfast tray in my hands is loaded with her favorites, the aroma of fresh coffee and warm toast mingling with the familiar scent of her lavender-scented room. She's curled under her cream-colored duvet, blonde hair splayed across the pillow like spilled ink. I perch carefully on the edge of her queen-sized bed, watching my sister's familiar morning ritual of rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, just like she's done since we were kids.

"Good morning," I say, holding the breakfast tray.

"Frankie!" Melina exclaims, sitting up in bed. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought you breakfast." I place the tray in front of her.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to do something nice for you," I reply with a smile that I know probably looks sheepish. The morning sunlight catches the worry lines around her eyes as she studies my face, her expression clearly showing she suspects there's another reason behind my breakfast delivery.

"I am not buying it," Melina says, squaring her eyes at me. A knowing look crosses her face - the same one she's given me since childhood whenever she caught me in a fib. She's right, of course. My usual tendency to sleep until noon makes this gesture suspicious.

"It's the truth." I avoid meeting her eyes.

"Spill it out."

"There's nothing to tell," I mumble, my fingers absently tracing the intricate flower embroidery on her duvet. The golden thread catches the light as I follow its winding pattern, desperate for any distraction from her penetrating gaze. My obvious lie hangs heavy in the air between us.

"Did Thomas ask you to do this?" she asks.

"Is it that obvious?" I ask, biting my bottom lip. 

"Kinda." Melina's smile softens as understanding dawns across her features. I watch as realization settles in her warm blue eyes - the same shade as Thomas's. She understands why he chose this roundabout way of caring for her, knowing his concern that she might skip meals if approached directly. The tenderness in her expression betrays how touched she is by his thoughtfulness despite everything.

"Are you still upset with him?"

"He didn't do anything wrong."

"Really, then why does he think he did?"

The morning light shifts as clouds pass outside, casting subtle shadows across her face as she recounts yesterday's events. Her voice grows quieter, more vulnerable with each word. The breakfast tray sits nearly forgotten between us, steam still rising from the coffee cup.

"I don't think Thomas would be repulsed by your scars."

"I know he doesn't seem like the type to care, but I know it disgusts him."

"Did he ever say it does?"

"No."

"Did he ever express disgust when he saw you naked?"

"Kinda."

"Kinda?" My voice echoes off the pale walls, genuine shock coloring my tone. The mere thought of Thomas - who looks at my sister like she hung the moon - being disgusted by any part of her seems impossible.

"Yes."

"Wow."

“To be honest, I’m not sure.” Melina is referring to the first time she thought Thomas was going to r*p* her. She believes he may have stopped because he was disgusted by her scars.

"Did he really look disgusted by it?"

I watch as she sinks into herself, her shoulders curling inward as she replays the memory. The tension in her body slowly releases as new understanding dawns in her eyes. The fear and shame that had colored that memory begin to fade as she sees it with fresh perspective.

"No."

"Melina." I shake my head at her, affection and exasperation mixing in my voice.

"I know, I was overthinking again." She looks down at her hands, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

"Yes, you and Thomas dated for almost a year. The man saw you naked all the time. If he were repulsed by it, you would've known while you were dating."

"I know," Melina says, sinking deeper into the plush pillows behind her, as if trying to disappear into their softness.

"Whatever the case may be, the most important thing is that you shouldn't be ashamed of it. I know it's easier said than done, but your scars aren't repulsive. They shouldn't make you feel bad about yourself. You're beautiful the way you are."

"Thank you for saying that; I'll hold it in mind."

"You're a beautiful woman, sis; always remember that." I lean forward, wrapping my arms around her slender frame. The familiar scent of her lavender shampoo envelops me as she returns the embrace, her grip tight with gratitude and love.

"I will."

"That's good to hear. I came to speak to you about something," I say as we pull apart.

"What's up?"

"So, I have been thinking that now that I've recovered, there's no reason for me to remain here. I would love to return to the States as soon as possible."

"Do you think that's safe? Rafael and James are still on the loose."

"Yes, they are, but I'm not important to them. They want Thomas, and I have no relationship with him."

"But you are to me, and I'm important to Thomas."

"That's true, but the chances of them kidnapping me to gain leverage over Thomas are slim."

"Not really, but just to be safe, I could ask Thomas to arrange security detail for you."

"That won't be a bad idea."

"Great. I could also use it to persuade Thomas to let me return to the States when I tell him."

"Why?" The words come out in a shocked breath, my heart skipping a beat at this unexpected revelation.

Melina's gaze drifts to the window, her fingers absently playing with the edge of her duvet as morning shadows dance across her face. "I have a lot of thinking to do about Thomas, sis. Yes, I'm still deeply attracted to him and might still love him, but he is a mafia man. That isn't something you just jump into, and I'm not sure I can forgive Thomas yet. I know he isn't at fault, but he didn't have to be so cruel to me. I feel I need some time away from him and this place to figure it all out."

"You are right, but I have a feeling Thomas will not let you go."

"If he wants me to forgive him and choose to be with him one day, he will agree to it."

***

Later that day, the afternoon sun casts long shadows through the windows as I watch TV with Melina in her room. The peaceful domesticity of the moment feels deceptively normal. When nature calls, I excuse myself to use the bathroom, my bare feet silent against the plush carpet of the hallway.

As I'm walking back to her room, wearing comfortable gray lounge pants and an oversized NYU sweater, the hair on the back of my neck stands up at the sound of footsteps behind me. Before I can turn, two men - their cologne, a sickening mix of spice and leather - grab me with rough, calloused hands. One clamps his palm over my mouth, cutting off my scream. They drag me into my room, the pale blue walls becoming a blur as I struggle against their vice-like grip. The crystal bedside lamp crashes to the floor, shards scattering across the hardwood like deadly stars, several pieces slicing into my exposed ankle.

The elegant room becomes a battlefield as I fight back with everything I have. My elbow connects with a satisfying crunch against what feels like a nose, drawing a muffled curse from one of my attackers. Decorative throw pillows in shades of silver and cream go flying as they struggle to contain me. Through my peripheral vision, I catch the metallic glint of a knife before one of them slashes through my pillows in frustration, sending feathers floating through the air like snow.

Just as hope surges through me - my muscles tensing for the scream that might bring help - something solid connects with the back of my head. As consciousness fades, my last coherent thought is of Melina, sitting innocently in her room just down the hall, the sound of the TV masking any noise of the struggle. The world tilts sideways, and darkness claims me.

BEFORE YOU BEGIN, I WANT TO MENTION THAT THIS IS A DARK BOOK, WHICH MEANS IT HAS DARK THEMES THAT MIGHT BE A TRIGGER FOR SOME. IF YOU WISH TO KNOW THE TRIGGERS, SEND ME A DM ON MY IG: amal_a_usman; I WILL SEND THEM TO YOU. THANK YOU.

***

I slowly open my eyes but immediately shut them as a sharp pain shoots through the back of my head. Gingerly, I touch the area, feeling a wound with dried blood. When I open my eyes again, terror grips me as I take in my surroundings. I'm in a cell. Again.

I rack my brain, trying to remember how I ended up here. My heartbeat quickens as flashes of memory return - two men in my room, grabbing me. Another abduction. My thoughts immediately turn to Melina. She must be frantic by now.

I whip my head towards the cell door as it squeaks open. My heart pounds against my ribcage as footsteps approach. I wrap my trembling arms around myself, pressing into the corner. A prayer whispers through my mind, hoping this time will be d