Dark Romance: A Cruel Obsession

Vivian was in agony, her spirit screaming and struggling within her body, yearning to break free from this fragile shell. She longed to soar freely, to be as passionate and brave as the heroines in musicals, but she was too scared.

She was afraid of so many things: leaving the comfort and safety of her living area, encountering the Bratva and facing the threat of death, her father’s cold dominance, and even more so, the prospect of being trapped in a marriage with Alajos.

Alajos was a good man-Vivian never denied that. His strong, domineering presence was enchanting, the dream lover of every young girl, and she knew she could fall for him. But Alajos would never be able to return her love, and that would plunge her into endless agony.

“Are you alright?” Mare appeared in the living room. “Do you need help? You look very uncomfortable.”

Vivian steadied herself on the radio, took a deep breath, feeling a bit weak in the knees.

“No need, thank you. I can manage.”

Clutching her script, Vivian rushed upstairs, her steps unsteady. She even missed a step and nearly fell down the stairs.

Such a lack of composure. Vivian chastised herself inwardly. This was not good, unbecoming of a lady. If father were here, he would surely scold you, Vivian.

Collapsing on the floor of her room, she hugged herself tightly, staring at the floor in front of her toes, her mind a void.

Mare didn’t follow; he had gone to fetch her dinner.

After performing a one-woman musical, Vivian was now both tired and hungry. She hoped Mare would return quickly with delicious food and then…

Then she would just sleep, Vivian thought.

She couldn’t do anything else; might as well sleep.

Just as Vivian considered whether to take a bath before Mare returned, the sound of the door opening came from downstairs.

Was it Mare? Had he fetched the meal so quickly?

Alright. Vivian gave up the idea of bathing first. She should fill her stomach now.

Vivian ran downstairs, the living room light was on, there was someone, but it wasn’t Mare.

“My God!” Vivian hurried down, approaching Vilem, who was covered in blood, his gaze icy as he watched her approach.

“What happened to you? Are you hurt?” Vivian checked his arms, his abdomen, his legs, and when she looked closely, she realized the blood wasn’t Vilem’s-he wasn’t injured. “What did you do? How did you get like this?”

“Don’t ask so much. Please stay quiet and go back to your room,” Vilem pushed Vivian away, preparing to go upstairs.

Vivian, worried about him, followed behind. “Are you sure you’re alright? Don’t you need a family doctor?”

“Yes, I’m fine, I don’t need a family doctor,” Vilem said, looking tiredly at Vivian. “I’m very tired now. Please let me go back and rest, okay?”

“Alright, I’m just very worried about you…”

“Don’t worry about me; this is my job.” Vilem took a deep breath, the blood on his clothes almost dry, on his hands too, from sticky to drying, needing water to scrub it off.

But what was the use of cleaning it off? Today’s blood would be washed away only for it to be stained anew tomorrow. Tomorrow’s blood would be washed away only for more killing the day after!

“This is my job, Vivian!” Vilem cursed, feeling a tightness in his chest, distress, a desire to scream, to go mad. “Killing everyday, constantly killing. We are the instruments of murder! I, my brother, Simpson… everyone in the mafia! Alajos too, he’s like my brother… no, he’s worse than my brother, cold and heartless like my father, he’s a monster!”

Vilem, in anguish, grabbed his hair, looking at Vivian who stood frozen, tears falling from shock. He had no right to vent at Vivian; she was innocent.

“I’m sorry, Vivian.” Vilem reached out to touch her hair, to offer some comfort, but Vivian dodged, her blue eyes filled with terror at Vilem’s blood-stained palm. She had always known what the mafia’s work entailed; she knew her father and brothers never ceased killing, but they never appeared before her like this. Vilem, covered in blood, terrified her.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

Her fear wasn’t of Vilem, but of Alajos, who was also relentlessly killing. She was to marry Alajos, to live with him in the same house for many, many years. If one day Alajos also came home covered in blood, or even touched her with those bloodstained hands that had just taken a life.

A wave of nausea rose from Vivian’s stomach; she would be devastated.

Vivian’s unintended flinch hurt Vilem. He whispered an apology and ran back to his room like a fugitive.

Vivian knew her reaction had hurt Vilem; it wasn’t intentional. She planned to knock on Vilem’s door to apologize, but then the phone rang downstairs, and she had to go answer it first.

It was her mother.

“Good evening, Vivian. How have you been?” Tasneem’s voice came through the phone.

“Good evening, Mom.”

Tasneem heard the subtle sobs, “What’s wrong?”

“Mom, I’m really scared,” Vivian whispered, her voice trembling with tears.

“Is it because the wedding is coming up soon?” Tasneem soothed her. “There will come a day for it, Vivian, don’t be afraid, everything will go well.”

“Mom, were you ever scared, marrying a Capo?”

Tasneem fell silent for a moment. “I was scared. Your father was a qualified and great Capo. Los Angeles has been strong because of him.”

“Why marry if you’re scared?”

“Girls have to marry. If not to a Capo, then to some other man; there’s no difference. Marrying a Capo is the most honorable and fortunate thing for a girl. The same goes for you, Vivian.”

“No!” Vivian couldn’t agree with her mother’s view. “I feel it’s tragic; I feel pity for myself; I will lose my freedom for life.”

Tasneem tried to comfort her, to make her see reason. “But you will gain much more. A Capo grants you wealth, status, power, and most importantly, you will bear his children.”

Vivian trembled with fear. “But they will be monsters’ children. They will grow up to become Made Men, just like their father, like Joseph, turning into terrible people.” And I will end my long, bitter life in this loveless marriage.

Tasneem was silent; she couldn’t persuade Vivian to accept this harsh fate. She felt pained that she couldn’t save her beloved child.

Vivian understood her mother couldn’t give her the answers she sought. She couldn’t offer any real help-her mother was a pitiful woman, too, trapped in a Capo’s cage, having spent a miserable first half of her life.

“Relax, my child,” Tasneem sighed softly on the phone, looking out at the dark night, the scent of roses wafting in from the garden. “Your father and I will attend your wedding; we will see each other soon.”