The Prisoner of the Enemy's Heart
Chapter 1 Brutal Mother Stepmother

Plaques

One hot slap back landed on Prillya Sofyan's cheek. The 18-year-old girl grimaced in pain. But he did not dare to complain.

Once he complains or cries then not only his cheeks will hurt or hurt. His other limbs will feel the same way.

"Well how many times have you come home late like this fucking kid!" Asna asked with tightly clutching hands the arm of the young girl who looked extremely thin.

His bones are so prominent on his wrist. While his tanned skin further adds to his so pitiful appearance.

"Why don't you answer Prilly?!" Asna is getting emotional. Now his hand moved to the girl's chin. He gripped her hard until Prilly grimaced in pain.

"I'm sorry Mom. I missed out on the only way to this house. So I'm on foot." Prilly could no longer bear the sadness she felt. Her tears shed one of her eyelids.

"Huh? What kind of reason is that? Whatever you did at school you missed like that son of a bitch! Dating huh!?"

Prilya was saddened by the unwarranted accusation. Tight chest. His tears were getting wet on his cheeks. Asna released her hand on the chin of her stepson while sneering.

"Ah yes, I just realized that you definitely can't possibly have a boyfriend. You're very ugly and ugly, hahahaha. I am also Ardina my beautiful daughter. Must be a snatch at school."

"Now you go to the kitchen! Wash dishes and clean the house!"

"Yes, Mom." The girl went straight to her room but her old backpack was forcefully pulled by Asna to the sound of crackling due to tearing. Understand the old age with an unbalanced load with its ability to make the bag damaged. He spewed out all of it.

"Astaghfirullah," muttered the pitiful girl with an increasingly congested breath.

"That means from now on you don't have to go to school anymore. Your job at home is to be a servant!" Asna sneered then left the girl to collect her books.

"Oh Allah, forgive me for not being able to accept all this. Let me be kidnapped by anyone who wants to, as long as I no longer live in a house like hell," he said with a cry.

For many years he had been suffering since his father remarried. He was 10 years old at the time. Since then, he has never felt happy.

Slowly he shrank his strange tears that could always come out even though he had exhausted them at all times. The girl stood up after her book and pen were collected in her hand. He entered his room in the back side by side with the kitchen. A smaller room that is more worthy is referred to as a warehouse.

After the dhuhur prayer at the end of time he entered the kitchen for lunch. Filling his stomach that has been rumbling since not bringing supplies to school.

Washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen. After that he went back to his room to rest. Tiredness is increasingly felt after walking home with a distance of 4 kilometers.

He laid his body and stared at the ceiling. He began to hope that someone would take him out of the house like hell so that he could feel a little pleasure and relief in his cramped heart.

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