Cruel Games

I'm supposedly a gift. A pure, anguished lily, they say. Some call me Lily, others Lys, but I'm nothing like those lilies you see admired in botanical gardens. Right now, I'm in Killian's world, just another abstract beauty in his collection.

Killian tore apart the entire Italian mafia in New York; now, he calls the shots. He's the reason I'm waking up every day and, more importantly, free from Alberto's grasp.

Alberto, that creep, traded me around like an object. New house, new owner, same old fear. Yet, I always ended up back in his clutches, trapped in some sick cycle. I learned to be difficult, to make myself unwanted, to lessen the blow of each inevitable return into being just a payment because of my dad's screw-ups and debts.

But now, everything's different. I'm Killian's now. Still an object, maybe, but at least I exist here. He pulled me out of Alberto's orbit, and I have no idea why. What does a man like Killian want with this "gift"? I honestly have no idea. The question hangs in the air, unanswered. But despite everything, despite him, the main thought clawing at me is: will I ever get back to where I belong?