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   Chapter 28 Nightmares

Mr. Regnante By Serena B. Light Characters: 14947

Updated: 2018-10-14 11:29

Rosalie found herself gagged and bound to a chair. Her dress torn and ripped as the ropes dug into her skin, bounding her to the wooden structure. The room she was held in smelt like mould and the air was stale like fresh air hadn't been inside for years. The interior was dark and dingy with a single light overhead.

She felt dazed and confused as she lifted her head up, a trickle of blood streaming down from her temple and onto her dress as she felt a hammer against her skull. A wince shot through her as she moved her head, a sharp pain shooting through her as her vision cleared.

Taking in her surroundings, instant panic welled inside her as fear engulfed her.

With a whimper, she struggled against her restraints, tears of fear and angst flowing down her dirty cheeks, mixing with the grime and blood. Her sobs grew louder and more desperate as she tried to get out of her bounds, a muffled plea escaping through the gag as the tears flowed in a steadier stream.

"You can't escape, sweetheart." A voice crackled from the darkness, the suddenness having Rosalie shriek in fright.

The sound of shoes clicking drew closer to her as her sobs grew louder, her heart hammering against her chest and her throat choking up.

Suddenly a pair of black dress shoes with a white line appeared in the ring of light, the body hidden in darkness.

"Shut up." The voice spoke over her sobbing as she instantly stopped, the tears still flowing as she suppressed any sound in fear of what he could do to her. "That's more like it."

A silence washed over the room as Rosalie could hear her blood surging through her veins, her heart thundering against her ribcage with her mind praying for a miracle. Suddenly, a hand shot out from the darkness, a shriek escaping her as she recoiled her head back, afraid of being hit. Instead, he simply ran the back of his hand down her grimy cheek, humming to himself.

"My, what a pretty little face you have." The man spoke, his voice thick with lust as Rosalie's stomach twisted in discomfort, causing her to squirm in her seat. "Wouldn't it be a shame if something were to mar that beauty of yours?" He continued through gritted teeth as a knife suddenly entered her line of vision, a blood-curdling scream tearing through her as he drew it nearer to her face, piercing her skin and drawing blood.

"Rosalie!" A voice yelled over her screaming, shattering the haze of searing pain in her system. "Rosalie! Rosalie! Wake up!"

She felt herself being shaken violently as her eyes snapped open, her throat raw from all her screaming and her cheeks damp with her tears. Her eyes darted around rapidly, taking in her lighted surroundings and placing everything to be Arcangelo's bedroom.

"Rosalie." A voice spoke from above her, her eyes instantly darting to the source and seeing Arcangelo's worried face hovering over her, his forehead creased and beaded with sweat and his eyes heavy with concern as he repeatedly stroked her matted hair. "It was just a dream, princess, you're alright."

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could even get a sound across, a painful churning in her stomach had her lurch forward and throw up onto the wooden floor at her bedside. Instantly, Arcangelo was pulling her hair away from her face, rubbing her back as he had an arm wrapped around her front, keeping her upright as she grasped his forearm for support.

"It's alright, let it out." Arcangelo murmured into her ear, rubbing her back as he placed a kiss against her temple, not even angry that she was throwing up on his wooden floor.

"Major!" He yelled over his shoulders and instantly the doors flew open with Gun and Major stepping in, weapons drawn before looking at the scene in concern. "Have someone clean this up."

"Yes, sir, " Major nodded as both the guards stepped out the door.

Rosalie stopped throwing up, dry heaving at the edge of the bed as Arcangelo rubbed her back, holding her against him as her throat burned, tears streaming down her face with a rancid taste infiltrating her mouth. Coughing and blubbering, Arcangelo spoke comforting words into her ear as he took her into his arms, allowing her to sob into his shirt as he walked them to his ensuite bath.

She blubbered incoherently as Arcangelo settled her onto the counter, telling her everything will be alright as he ran a bath for her; checking the temperature, he allowing the tub to fill up. As the water flowed in, he h

act that this car went up to 350 km/h and no one is to say he can't go to that speed.

Luckily no one was on the highway as he went to the full speed for the first time. Heat traveling throughout his body as his heart beat in overdrive, his knuckles turning white with the grip he had on the steering wheel and he knew that adrenaline was shooting through his veins like heroin.

And God, did he feel good.

Pure unadulterated ecstasy coursing through him as he felt high on adrenaline, a grin resting on his face and sweat rolling down.

However, he had to stop at some point and he found himself pulling into the porch before sunrise. Stepping out of the car, he patted the hood before making his way inside. The entire estate was still silent but it was only a matter of a few hours before everything came to life.

Making his way up the stairs, he gave a nod to the guards standing in the hallway before entering the bedroom. Rosalie instantly shot up in her place on the bed at the sound of the door opening. Silently she watched him kick off his shoes before he collapsed onto the bed, his face turned away from her as she pulled up her knees to her chest. With a heavy breath, Arcangelo pulled out the duvet from beneath him before wrapping himself up in the warmth.

He knew he wasn't going to sleep, but it didn't mean he couldn't try.

With that thought, he closed his eyes momentarily before they shot open as he heard the sniffle behind him. His heart clenched at the sound as he turned to be on his back, seeing Rosalie's gaze turned away from him as she was biting down on her lip to keep from making excessive sounds. Holding his hand before her, he watched her give a startled jump before uncertainly placing her hand into his open palm.

Arcangelo pulled her to him, covering her with the duvet as he hugged her close, pressing her against his chest as she sniffled silently, and wrapping her arms around his waist as she lay in his embrace.

"It's hard." She sniffled before wiping away the tears.

"I know, baby." He told her as he caressed her arm with his fingertips, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "But it gets easier with time, and slowly, it all goes away."

"You have to talk about it sooner or later." He continued with a sigh. "Trauma changes us."

"This is the big scary truth about trauma: there is no such thing as 'getting over it'. The five stages of grief model mark universal stages in learning to accept a loss, but the reality, in fact, is much bigger: a major life disruption leaves a new normal in its wake. There is no "back to the old me". You are different now, full stop.

However, this is not a wholly negative thing. Healing from trauma can also mean finding new strengths and joys. The goal of healing is not a papering-over of changes in an effort to preserve and present things as normal.

It is to acknowledge and wear your new life - scars, wisdom, and all - with courage."

"And that is recovery."

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