Underestimated
Underestimated
SAMANTHA'S POINT OF VIEW
“Sam, sweetheart, what’s going on? The maids mentioned that you’ve locked yourself in your room since morning. Please, open the door and talk to your mother. I’m really worried about you, honey… What’s the matter?” I could hear my mother’s concerned voice filtering through the solid door, but I merely sat there in silence, my gaze fixed vacantly on the door as a deep sigh escaped my lips.
I’ve been holed up in this room since I got back from Giovans place. Even now, it feels surreal, like I’m trapped in a never-ending nightmare. I always believed he loved me; I was certain of it. How could I have been so incredibly naive? The revelation that he never truly cared for me stings more than I could have imagined. I feel like a complete fool, reflecting on how I allowed myself to be so easily manipulated. The signs were unmistakable, glaring even, yet I chose to turn a blind eye to them.
As I sat in the dim light of my room, I began to piece together the puzzle of our relationship.
“He never reaches out unless I do first. It’s as if I’m an afterthought in his life. Whenever I attempt to discuss our future or the possibility of marriage, he shuts down immediately. He cringes at the thought of the future we could have together,” I thought to myself, frustration bubbling up within me.
“He despises it when I call him too frequently…it’s like I’m just an obligation he’s forced to tolerate. The only thing he seemed to genuinely enjoy was the physical aspect of our relationship—the intimacy that, in retrospect, feels completely shallow.”
Sinking deeper into my thoughts, I grimaced at the haunting truth of my situation. This is what I get for being so incredibly blind and foolish.
"Please, sweetheart, could you just open the door for me? I need to understand what's going on. You know how much it hurts me to see you like this," she implored, her voice laced with urgency as she stood on the other side of my locked door. Desperation seeped into her words, each syllable tinged with the worry of a mother who could feel her child's pain even from a distance.
"Sam? Is that you? Samantha? Baby, please, don’t shut me out like this. You know I hate it when you pull away from me. Just let me in. Let me help you," she pleaded further, her tone softening, yet the underlying concern was evident. I sighed deeply, feeling the weight of her words settle on my chest. Slowly, I rose from my bed, my heart heavy as I walked toward the door and finally turned the handle, allowing it to swing open.
"Thank you, honey," she sighed, relief flooding her voice as she stepped over the threshold into my room, her eyes searching mine for answers. Her expression shifted from relief to alarm as she took in my tear-streaked face.
"What's troubling you, my darling? Look at your eyes; they're so red and swollen. You need to tell me what's bothering you; I'm here for you," she urged, her grip gentle yet reassuring as she took my hand and led me to my bed, the warmth of her presence enveloping me.
"What’s wrong, Samantha?" she asked, concern etching deeper lines into her face as she leaned closer, her gaze intent on mine, searching for a glimpse of the turmoil beneath my surface. I hesitated, my voice caught in my throat as I mustered the courage to speak.
"I’m... I'm..." I stammered, taking a deep, shaky breath to steady the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.
"Yes... go on, sweetie. You're what?" She leaned in closer, her eyes wide with anticipation, urging me to continue as her maternal instincts kicked into high gear.
"I’m pregnant, Mom," I finally managed to say, the words falling from my lips like a heavy stone hitting the ground. The impact hung in the air, and I watched as her eyes widened in shock.
"What? Oh my goodness… wow…," she stuttered, trying to process what I had just revealed. Then, almost in disbelief, she added,
"I mean… that’s actually good news… so why are you so tearful about it? This is nothing to be crying about; you know how much I have always dreamed of having grandchildren." Her expression shifted from shock to a glimmer of hope, and she grasped my shoulders gently, her eyes filled with both excitement and concern.
"But wait—who’s the father?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension, the questions swirling in her mind as she awaited my response.
“Please, dear, tell me… who is responsible for your pregnancy?” She repeated the question, her tone a mixture of concern and urgency.
Taking a deep breath, I hesitated for a few moments, wrestling with the weight of my confession. Finally, I managed to choke out the name,
“It’s… it’s Giovan.” The moment the name left my lips, I could see the confusion wash over her face, her brow furrowing as she processed my words.
“Giovan? Who exactly is this Giovan? Is he someone you met while you were in Paris?” she inquired, her voice rising a little, laced with both curiosity and a hint of disbelief. I immediately shook my head, desperate to clarify.
“No, Mom, the pregnancy is only two weeks along,” I whispered softly, hoping to alleviate some of her confusion.
Her eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer, her expression growing more intense.
“That means it’s someone here , then. Who is it? Please, talk to your mother!” She implored, her gaze locked onto mine, searching for answers.
“Giovan Higgins….....Donovan’s twin brother,” I muttered, barely managing to keep my voice steady. I instinctively lowered my head, unable to bear the intensity of her stare.
“Giovan Higgins… Donovan’s twin brother,” she repeated slowly, as if trying to digest this information fully. I nodded, and at that moment, her eyes widened in shock, a gasp escaping her lips.
“It can’t be who I think it is, right?” she said, her voice rising in pitch as she stood up from her seat, her agitation palpable.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I cried, the tears streaming down my face unbidden.
“I… I didn’t even know how it all happened!”
Her expression hardened, and she raised her voice in frustration.
“Samantha, how could you let this happen?” Her hand flew to her forehead, a gesture that mirrored her disbelief and disappointment, as she struggled to comprehend the situation. The weight of her words hung heavily in the air, filling the space between us with an uncomfortable tension.
"Wait... Where on earth did you even meet him? How could you possibly get close to someone like that, especially after hearing all the terrible things he’s done?" she exclaimed, her voice rising in a mixture of anger and disbelief.
"I... I’m really sorry, Mom... I don’t even know how to begin to explain this to you," I replied, tears streaming down my face as the weight of my emotions became almost too much to bear.
"You better figure out how to explain , Sam, because I need to understand how you became involved with that scumbag to the point of being pregnant. And what happened to Donovan? I thought you were always going to see him," she pressed, her piercing gaze locked onto mine, demanding answers.
"I... I’ve been in touch with Giovan for a lot longer than you think, Mom. We’ve been seeing each other for several years now," I managed to say, my voice trembling as I recalled the painful memory of him dismissively saying, "You think I loved you????" The hurt that his words caused me still stung deeply, and I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the regret and sorrow that cascaded over me like a tidal wave. "It hurts... I swear it really does."
As I sat there, grappling with my tumultuous emotions, I could see the confusion and disappointment etched across my mother’s face, and I knew that the journey ahead would be anything but easy.
"You are aborting the child, Sam… There’s no question about it; you absolutely have to end this pregnancy," my mother insisted, her voice tinged with a mix of desperation and anger. I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat growing more uncomfortable with each passing second.
Ever since I returned home and confronted the reality of my situation, these thoughts have occupied every corner of my mind. The notion of terminating this pregnancy feels foreign and unbearable. After all, I can feel the tiny life growing inside me, a constant reminder of my choices – I thought, biting down on my lip to suppress the rush of conflicting emotions.
"I'm really sorry, Mom, but I just can't do it," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, but the gravity of my words hung heavily in the air. Instantly, she turned to face me, her expression a mix of incredulity and frustration.
"What did you just say?" she demanded, her voice rising incredulously, as if she couldn't quite believe her ears.
"I said I'm sorry, Mom, but I cannot bring myself to abort my child," I repeated, my resolve faltering slightly under the weight of her intense gaze. In response, she huffed loudly, frustration palpable in the space between us.
"Do you have any idea what you’re attempting to do, child? Your father will be absolutely furious if he finds out you did something like this. He will certainly disown you," my mother said, her brow furrowing deeper as a look of serious concern crossed her face.
"The only way to fix this is to terminate the pregnancy," she urged, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
"He’s going to blame me for dragging you into this mess. How could you possibly do something like this and bring shame upon our family?" Her voice thick with disappointment, she let out a deep, exasperated sigh, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her chest. The room felt smaller, as if it were closing in around us, filled with her anxious energy and my swirling thoughts.
"I'm not going to allow you to keep this child. You are going to terminate the pregnancy, and that is final, young lady!" she repeated. her tone stark and authoritative, leaving no room for argument. My immediate reaction was to shake my head vigorously, rejecting her ultimatum with all my strength.
"I'm really sorry, Mom, but I want you to understand that I'm not a child anymore. I've already made my decision to keep the baby. If that means Dad is willing to disown me, then so be it. That’s completely fine with me," I replied, my voice firm, albeit a little shaky. Her reaction was swift; she let out a chuckle, though it held an edge of disbelief.
"You… I don’t even know what to say to you right now," she acknowledged, her expression growing more serious, deep lines forming in her forehead as she placed her hand on her waist, a clear indication of her frustration.
"I'm really sorry, Mom," I mumbled once again, my voice barely a whisper as I faced the bed, feeling the weight of her disappointment hanging heavily in the air. She let out an exasperated huff, the sound full of impatience and confusion.
"What did he say about the pregnancy?" she pressed, her voice rising slightly in urgency. I hesitated, biting my lip as I lowered my gaze further, desperately trying to avoid her penetrating stare that seemed to demand an answer.
"You heard me, Sam. What did that bastard say about the pregnancy?" she insisted, her voice thick with emotion, now laced with a hint of desperation and anger.
With a deep breath, I finally admitted,
"He... He told me to abort it, Mom." At that revelation, her eyes widened in shock, and she gasped audibly as if the words had struck her like a physical blow.
"You see... you see who you got pregnant for ? I mean, are you honestly going to try to convince me that you had no idea why Mr. Higgins disowned him? He's nothing but a bad egg. It still baffles me that after knowing all this, you would still choose to go ahead and get pregnant by him," she exclaimed, indignation evident in her voice as she shook her head in disbelief, the disappointment palpable. Every word she spoke felt like another layer of pressure, building upon my already tumultuous emotions.
"If you choose to keep the baby, that decision is entirely yours," she said, her voice edged with frustration.
"But don’t even think about pretending that I’m aware of your pregnancy when you tell your father. It's absolutely certain that he will point fingers and blame me for this situation. I can’t express how deeply disappointed I am, Samantha... Truly, I am incredibly let down." With a mix of anger and hurt, she stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing in the hallway as the door slammed shut behind her.
KIMBERLY'S POINT OF VIEW
I let out a heavy sigh, my gaze fixed on the plate of food that sat untouched before me. It had been delivered earlier by one of Giovan's subordinates, a large man with a menacing demeanor who had barely spoken a word as he handed over the meal.
Although hunger gnawed at my stomach, the overwhelming sense of dread kept me from even taking a single bite. What if this food has been tampered with? My mind raced with thoughts of poison and betrayal, and I quickly shook my head, trying to dispel the fear that threatened to consume me. With a resigned movement, I pushed the plate away and retreated to the bed, feeling the weight of my reality press down on me.
As evening descended, the room grew increasingly darker, the dim light from the solitary lamp struggling to illuminate the space. There was something unsettling about the way the shadows danced along the walls, adding to my sense of unease. I couldn’t shake the feeling of isolation that wrapped around me like a heavy blanket.
Fortunately, that frightening lunatic hadn’t returned yet, and I found myself silently thanking whatever higher power might be listening. I genuinely could not comprehend why he believed for even a second that I might develop any feelings for him.
The idea was absurd, and I couldn’t help but escape into a fit of laughter, the sound echoing sharply in the quiet room—a mix of nervousness and disbelief. Did he truly think he was charming or appealing in any way? I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of the situation.
I find myself engulfed in a swirling tempest of worry and concern, desperately hoping that my mother is okay. I can only imagine the frantic state of mind that my brother Royce must be experiencing right now; the poor thing is probably a bundle of nerves, consumed by anxiety. If only this deranged psychopath would allow me the freedom to leave this harrowing situation, I thought to myself, releasing a heavy sigh that felt as though it carried the weight of the world.
As for my father, I can't shake the feeling of dread that accompanies the thought of my mother's well-being hinging on his actions. I am resolute in my belief that if anything happens to her, he will face severe consequences. There’s something unsettlingly peculiar about him lately; at times, it feels like I barely recognize the man who once adored my mother and us, his children. I find myself pondering what could have possibly led to this transformation, furrowing my brow as I stared intently at the closed door, lost in my swirling thoughts.
Sitting on the bed, I folded my legs beneath me and let my head rest against my knee in a moment of defeat. Who could have anticipated that being a personal physician to the enigmatic Donovan would be fraught with such overwhelming drama? I bit my lip in contemplation, wrestling with the cacophony of emotions that filled my mind. Thoughts of Donovan flooded my consciousness, and amidst my fears, I clung to the hope that he was safe. I can only pray that he manages to locate me before this unsettling creep makes any moves to whisk me away to an unknown location, severing my ties to everything I hold dear.
As I sank deeper into my anxious reverie, I became acutely aware of the faint sound of the door creaking open. Instinctively, I instinctively scooted back on the bed, my heart pounding in my chest. The door swung wide, and like a shadow, he stepped into the room, and upon catching sight of me, his expression transformed into a chilling grin. He strolled further into the space, exuding a sense of confidence that sent an icy shiver down my spine.
“Look who’s starving herself,” he remarked, casting a quick glance down at the untouched food strewn across the floor, a stark reminder of my refusal to eat.
“Are you not hungry?” he continued, a hint of concern creeping into his voice.
“I really don’t want you to make yourself sick before we embark on our journey tomorrow morning.” He reached out gently, brushing aside some stray strands of hair that had fallen across my face, tucking them tenderly behind my ear.
I shook my head, my voice firm as I replied, “I’m not hungry. Just let me go.” I felt compelled to push his hand away from my eyes, seeking a moment of freedom from his gaze.
“You really have to eat, sweetheart. It’s not good for you to go without food. You haven’t eaten anything since this morning, and I’m genuinely worried about you,” he implored, his tone softening as he added,
“Please, eat something. Or would you prefer that I feed you myself?” His words dripped with a surprising gentlemanly charm that made me scoff audibly in response,
“Let… me… go,” I insisted, enunciating each word clearly as I tried to assert my will against him. His reaction was a wide, almost playful smile, and he shook his head slowly in denial, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“I told you before, sweetheart… I don’t think I’ll be letting you go anytime soon,” he replied, his grin only widening.
“Does it still hurt?” he suddenly asked, and my eyebrows shot up in surprise as I stared at him, confusion etched across my features.
“Your cheeks… does it still hurt?” he clarified, his gaze dropping to the very spot where he had struck me earlier during the confrontation with Donovan on the phone. His expression shifted slightly, and a flicker of guilt crossed his face as he spoke, revealing an unexpected concern.
"And why on earth do you even care?" I questioned him, my voice laced with irritation, as I turned to face him with a deep frown etched across my face. It was as if I had caught him in a moment of amusement, which was puzzling to me given the circumstances. To my surprise, he let out a hearty chuckle, one that echoed off the walls of the dimly lit room.
" I'm terribly sorry, sweetheart," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm,
"If you had just complied with my initial request, none of this tangled mess would have happened in the first place. I really am genuinely sorry." His words only served to fuel the fire of my annoyance. I rolled my eyes in frustration, wishing that someone, anyone, would take it upon themselves to inform him of my single-minded desire to return home immediately.
"Seriously, just eat something," he insisted, his expression shifting slightly as he leaned in closer. "Or should I play the role of waiter and feed you myself?" The sheer absurdity of his suggestion prompted an immediate scoff to escape my lips, a mixture of disbelief and irritation swirling within me.
"Are you actually going to try to force the food into my mouth?" I shot back, my voice thick with exasperation.
"I’ve already told you I’m not hungry, so please, for the love of all that's good, just leave me alone." My annoyance was palpable, and I could feel my impatience beginning to boil over as his persistent presence became unbearable.
"I suppose I can leave you be for now," he conceded, a smirk still playing at the corners of his lips,
"but don’t forget, early tomorrow morning we have travel plans." As he turned to leave, he leaned in closer, planting a brief kiss on my cheek, which only served to enhance my irritation. I could feel his gaze linger on me for just a moment longer before he finally stepped out of the room, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him reverberating in my ears.
"I really can't wait to escape from this psycho," I murmured to myself, staring blankly at the door as I could hear the unmistakable sound of him locking me in from the outside. A sense of desperation washed over me as I silently pleaded, Please Donovan, find me soon. With a heavy sigh, I allowed myself to collapse onto the bed, pulling the duvet cover tightly around my lower body in a feeble attempt to shield myself from the reality of my situation. The fabric felt both comforting and suffocating, a reminder of the isolation I found myself in as I braced for whatever the unpredictable morning would bring.
#MORNING#
I found myself staring at the door with an anxious flutter in my chest, my heart racing in synchrony with my trepidation. The previous night had been an arduous battle against sleep; no matter how hard I tried to surrender to slumber, every time I closed my eyes, my mind transported me to a nightmarish realm dominated by the fears that plagued me.
In the first dream, I experienced sheer terror as the airplane I was on plummeted toward the ground, the gut-wrenching sensation of free-fall twisting my insides in a vice grip of panic. The second nightmare was equally bizarre, as I found myself fleeing from a relentless plane that pursued me like a predator on the hunt, its roaring engines echoing ominously in the darkness—a surreal twist that left me bewildered.
Desperately seeking solace, I pressed my head against the cold wall, biting my lip as I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. An overwhelming wave of hunger washed over me, mixing uncomfortably with a sense of uncleanliness I couldn't shake. Though there was a bathroom just a few steps away, the thought of using it filled me with dread; what if that vile man decided to barge in while I was vulnerable? My mind wandered to a wishful fantasy where I could open my eyes to a different reality, one in which everything I was experiencing turned out to be nothing more than a nightmarish figment of my imagination—a cruel trick of the mind.
I remained frozen in that distressing position, my thoughts torturing me, when suddenly I heard the unmistakable sound of the door creaking open. My heart leaped into my throat, and I snapped my eyes open, aware that I was now confronted by the very moment I had been dreading since dawn broke.
As the door swung wide, a grumpy looking man stepped into the room, his face contorted in displeasure, leaving me utterly perplexed about what was unfolding. The aura of tension thickened in the air.
"You've got thirty minutes to bathe and put on this," he said gruffly, tossing a wad of clothing onto the bed with an abruptness that made me flinch.
Feeling my anxiety spike, I shot back defiantly,
"And you can tell your boss that I’m not interested in taking a bath or following him anywhere." My voice was laced with a mix of defiance and fear, each word punctuating the intensity of my desperation in that moment. The situation had escalated far beyond my control, and there was no telling what was going to happen next in this bleak scenario.
“I feel compelled to offer you a piece of advice,” he began cautiously, his tone laced with an undercurrent of urgency.
“I’ve come to understand that you’re a doctor, and I must say, I hold a great appreciation for your profession.”
He paused for a moment, gauging my reaction, before continuing,
“However, you should know that my boss is not someone to be trifled with. When he gets angry, he transforms into an entirely different individual—one that is not easily placated. So, I strongly recommend that you heed my words and do exactly as I’ve suggested.” With that, he turned on his heel and exited the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Left alone, I found myself staring blankly at the closed door for several moments. Eventually, my gaze shifted to the pile of clothing lying on the bed, still untouched. I felt an intense reluctance to move; a part of me resolved to stay put. If he truly intended to bring harm my way, then so be it. Perhaps it would be better to confront whatever fate awaited me than to submit to his demands. I had no intention of following him anywhere, not now, not ever.
Time seemed to stretch as I remained on the bed , engulfed in my thoughts. However, my solitude was broken when I heard the unmistakable sound of the door creaking open once more. To my chagrin, it was Giovan this time —his expression now transformed into one of deep disappointment, accentuated by a pronounced frown that suggested he was not in the mood for games.
“I instructed you to take your bath and get dressed. What on earth are you still doing in that outfit?! Why haven’t you moved?” His voice was a mixture of anger and frustration, and my instinct was to rise to my feet in defiance.
“And I’ve made it perfectly clear that all I want is to go home,” I shot back, the stubbornness in my tone undeniable.
To my surprise, he erupted into a loud, almost manic laughter, which echoed around the room like thunder.
“I guess you really do prefer to take the hard way, don’t you?” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he began to remove his jacket.
“What… What are you doing?” I stammered out, my voice trembling with trepidation. His grin widened, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes.
“Of course, darling, I want to give you a bath. It seems like you’ve been unable to manage it yourself lately, and I thought we could enjoy this little experience together,” he responded, his tone dripping with a mixture of condescension and something darker.
My heart raced as my eyes darted towards the door, an instinctive spark of hope igniting within me. This was my moment, my only chance to escape, and I wasn’t about to squander it. Without a second thought, I dashed toward the door, heart pounding in my chest as I desperately fumbled with the handle. But to my dismay, it wouldn’t budge. Confusion washed over me—hadn’t I seen him leave the door unlatched? Why was it suddenly locked?
Tearing my gaze from the stubborn door, I turned back to face Giovan. He stood there, watching me with an amused expression that made my skin crawl.
“Okay, that was cute to watch,” he chuckled, his voice smooth and taunting as he took step closer to me, closing the distance between us.
“I'm sorry, sweetheart, but once this door is locked, it can only be opened with these keys,” he said casually, dangling a set of keys tantalizingly in front of me, the metallic jingling echoing in the tense silence of the room.
He moved ever closer, until there was barely an inch separating us, his presence overwhelming. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, and I involuntarily took a step back, but he simply advanced, invading my personal space.
“You know… I don’t know what it is, but what you just did, all that frantic scrambling, it just turned me on,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent chills down my spine. His fingers, warm and tentative, traveled from my ear to my neck, tracing a line that felt both electrifying and terrifying. I held my breath, caught in a web of fear and eerie fascination, unsure of what would come next.
"How about a quickie? I promise you’re going to love it," he suggested with a mischievous grin, leaning in closely as if to steal a kiss. But I had no intention of succumbing to his advances. Instead, I quickly turned my face away, creating just enough distance to respond with instinctive aggression. With a swift motion, I delivered a sharp kick to his groin, the impact causing him to yell out in pain and stagger backward away from the door, clutching himself.
As I bent down to retrieve the keys that had fallen from his grasp and turned to open the door, I suddenly felt a rough grip in my hair. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, he yanked me backward with startling force, dragging me toward the bed like a ragdoll. He shoved me down onto the mattress, his body weight pressing down on me firmly.
"I told you... you love things the hard way," he asserted with a cocky smirk, positioning himself on top of me and pinning me to the bed with unsettling ease. Panic surged through me as I squirmed beneath him.
"Let me go! What do you think you're doing?" I shouted, my voice laced with both anger and fear. I struggled to push him off, but his strength was overwhelming; he easily trapped both of my hands above my head with one of his. Then, as if to assert his dominance even further, he slapped me hard across the face. The sting was immediate, and I couldn't help but see stars for a moment as my mind reeled from both the shock and the pain.
"Let's enjoy this together," he muttered with a grunt, leaning down to claim my lips in a forceful kiss that took me completely by surprise. I felt my resolve begin to weaken as dizziness swept through me, the sensation of spinning leaving me momentarily disoriented. In a swift motion, he tore off my shirt, leaving me clad only in my bra, and just as he began to reach for it, we were both startled by a loud bang that reverberated across the room, shaking the very foundations of my tumultuous thoughts.
"Who's that??"He yelled really annoyed and a voice yelled out.
"It me Pius..... There's a big problem, boss"
The psycho immediately stood up from my body and walked to the door opening it. I sat up and wore my clothes immediately, tears rolling down my face, did........ Did he just tried to r@pe me??.
"What's it??? "He asked angrily.
"Your brother....... He.... He found us"The boy said and just we began hearing gun shots.
"What?? , how did that bastard find me?? "He said and glanced at me.
"Get three other boys that will escort me to the underground passage, I'll just get the btch now "He said and picked up his Jacket wearing it.
"Get up"He yelled and grabbed me by my hair.
"I really underestimated your man, Sweetheart...... I guess there's a change of plans...... I'm killing you in front of him"He said and began draging me out of the room.