The whipping continued for what felt like an eternity, each lash a fresh wave of agony. Shayera's vision blurred, the room tilting precariously as exhaustion began to set in. She could hear the faint sounds of her family's voices, their laughter and taunts a cruel counterpoint to her suffering.
Finally, the whipping stopped. Shayera collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath, her body wracked with tremors. The pain was almost unbearable, but she refused to cry out. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.
A cold bucket of water was thrown over her, shocking her system and sending a fresh wave of shivers through her body.
"Clean yourself up," Josephine sneered.
"And then go back to your room. And don't even think about making any more trouble."
Shayera was weak but she stood up and walked to her room.
For months she was not allowed to go outside Shayera was fine with that she had no friends who cared enough for her.
By this time she was nine months pregnant. Though she was fat and ugly with her body people thought she gained more weight. Her family already left for Japan and Shayera was on a cruise ship.
She took a deep breath Shayera natural hair is strawberry red hair that is curly but extremely beautiful.
The chill of the water had momentarily cleared the fog in Shayera's mind, but the underlying ache remained, a constant reminder of her humiliation. She moved with a sluggishness born of exhaustion and pain, her limbs heavy and unresponsive. The walk to her room felt like an insurmountable journey, each step a monumental effort.
Once inside, she stumbled to the small, cracked mirror hanging on the wall. Her reflection stared back at her—a swollen, bruised face framed by tangled red hair. The vibrant strawberry hue seemed dull and lifeless against her pale skin. Her eyes, usually a sparkling blue, were clouded with pain and exhaustion. She looked… broken.
But beneath the surface of despair, a flicker of defiance remained. Shayera straightened her shoulders, a spark of determination igniting within her. They could break her body, but they could not break her spirit.
The rhythmic rocking of the cruise ship lulled Shayera into a fragile state of calm. The vast expanse of the ocean stretched before her, a shimmering canvas of blues and greens under the warm sunlight. It was a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the Williams mansion, a temporary escape from the constant judgment and cruelty.
She ran a hand over her swollen belly, feeling the gentle flutter of movement within. Her triplets. They were her reason for enduring, her anchors in a sea of despair. She would protect them with every fiber of her being, shield them from the darkness that had consumed her own life.
Shayera's gaze drifted to the small vanity table in the corner of the room. She reached for a brush and began to gently untangle her hair, painstakingly working through the knots and snarls.
The sudden lurch of the ship sent a jolt of panic through Shayera. The world tilted violently, and a wave of nausea washed over her. But the pain that followed was far more intense, a searing, allconsuming agony that stole her breath away. Her water broke, releasing a torrent of fluid that soaked her clothes and clung to her skin.
She cried out, a primal scream ripped from the depths of her being. The pain intensified with each contraction, squeezing the life out of her. She thrashed against the restraints, desperate to escape the torment that was engulfing her.
Then she saw them—a group of sternfaced individuals who materialized seemingly out of nowhere. Their expressions were devoid of empathy, their eyes cold and calculating. A woman's voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the chaos.
"Grab her!"
The world dissolved into a blur of pain and panic. Shayera's screams mingled with the crashing waves, lost in the vastness of the ocean. The cold, impersonal hands seized her, pinning her arms against her sides, restricting any movement. The sensation was terrifying—a violation of her body and her autonomy. She struggled against their grip, but their strength was overwhelming.
"What do you want to do! Stop!" Shayera managed to gasp out between contractions, the words laced with desperation and fear. Her vision swam, the faces of her captors morphing into grotesque masks of indifference.
The woman's voice echoed in her ears, devoid of warmth or compassion.
"Prepare for immediate delivery," she stated flatly, as if discussing a routine procedure rather than the birth of three lives.
Though Shayera was fat and overweight it didn't mean she was weak she was able to threw someone over her shoulder and she rushed toward the door but the woman movements were quick as she strike her and the nurses injected her with substance.
Shayera felt so much pain as she creamed in agony as she pushed her first born out the woman nor did Shayera know they were two other babies inside her stomach the moment her first born was born the woman took the baby boy. Shayera an instinct of a mother raised in her as she tried to fight the nurses and screamed.
"I want her to die today which means this cruise ship would be your resting place?" The women said arrogant and walked away with her bodyguards. Shayera was in pain the nurses and the doctors also walked away. Shayera was left there to bleed but she would never give up no matter what as she stumbled forward the cruise ship crushed blew up and she fall into the water she closed her eyes and she fainted.
The icy grip of the water stole her breath, plunging her into a frigid darkness. Shayera's lungs burned, desperately craving air as she sank beneath the surface. The chaotic sounds of the ship's destruction faded into a muffled roar, replaced by the relentless pressure of the water surrounding her.
She fought against the overwhelming urge to succumb to the darkness, fueled by a primal instinct to protect her unborn children. They're still in there, she thought, clinging to that single, desperate hope. I have to survive.
With a surge of adrenaline, she kicked and clawed her way upward, battling against the currents that threatened to drag her under. Her limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, her muscles screaming in protest. But she pushed on, driven by a fierce determination that defied exhaustion and pain.
She gasped the moment she was on the island and she give birth to the two other kids before she fainted again.
This time when she woke up she saw blue room and she looked around two kind elderly couple smiled at Shayera who tried to set up but her body wouldn't allow her. The woman and man were both beautiful and handsome couple, the woman name was Eleni she was born and raised in Greece and her husband is Damien he was born and raised in Russia.
"Darling don't worry your kids are sleeping soundly."
Shayera relaxed when she heard that she then closed her eyes again and passed out.
The gentle warmth of the room seeped into Shayera's bones, a welcome contrast to the frigid embrace of the ocean. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the soft light filtering through sheer curtains. The sterile scent of a hospital had been replaced by the comforting aroma of herbs and freshly baked bread.
The faces of Eleni and Damien swam into focus, their expressions radiating kindness and concern. Shayera felt a flicker of warmth in her chest—a sensation she hadn't experienced in a long time.
"How are you feeling, dear?" Eleni asked, her voice soothing and melodic.
Shayera attempted to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over her, forcing her to lie back down. "Weak," she managed to whisper, her throat dry and scratchy.
"Very weak."
Damien gently adjusted the pillows beneath her head.
"Where am I?" Shayera finally asked.
Shayera's brow furrowed slightly, a faint sense of unease creeping into her mind. "Paris?" she repeated, the word unfamiliar on her tongue. It was a beautiful city, she recalled vaguely from her time there, but it felt distant and dreamlike.
The mention of the Williams family sent a jolt of anger through her, momentarily eclipsing the exhaustion and pain. Their betrayal still stung, a raw wound that refused to heal. But Eleni's cryptic comment about death not being easy for them sparked a flicker of something else—a cold resolve hardening within her.
She focused on the warmth radiating from Eleni and Damien, drawing strength from their kindness. They had saved her life, given her a refuge from the storm. She owed them more than she could ever repay.
"Thank you," Shayera whispered, her voice barely audible.