The mafia mistress: Diary of revenge

et, watching Andrés carve patterns into a piece of wood with his pocket knife. Life near the border was tough, but I was used

again," Andrés smirk

ng his hands busy, like he was always preparing for som

gh the evening quiet. My stomach twisted.

ian

ed voice sent ice

s bloated stomach. Felipe Mendez was a monster–mean when he was sober, worse when

uí ahora mismo,

re right now, Y

pocket knife back into his pocket. I hated how he never met my e

and forced myse

ing rotten, something worse than sweat. Before I could react, his hand lashed out, crack

r las piernas, ¿Verdad?" (Damn whore like your mothe

p burned, but I didn't scream. I never screamed. It only made things wor

could hear him mumbling insults about me and my mother– calling her the same thing, a fil

behind us, locki

spered, my voice barely

dn't

ounded, bile rising in my throat. I had never seen that look in his eyes be

rstand what w

at f

n I

crea

oug

ick

ratc

tter. He was

beneath him. "Así es como aprendemos a ser

s pelear?". (Now you want to fight?) His breath was hot against

ped fi

iling as he pressed down on me. I felt a tear between

My father leaned in close, his lips brushing my ea

s que tú." (Your mother en

ry. I bit my lips tasting blood, and swa

sed myself. One