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997 Words
“I’ll be right outside the door if you need me. We’ll take care of everything, sweet girl, I promise.” Once she slips from the room, I dazedly remove my blood-spattered clothes. I can’t look at them. The fabric is discarded into a pile on the floor. The heat of the shower spray warms my skin, but it can’t touch the permafrost coating my bones. When I lift my hands to the water, I see the blood staining my fingers. Under the nails. Blotching my skin. Filling each crease and crevice. My shaking amplifies until I have to sink to the shower floor. What have I done? Did I just kill a man? If he isn’t dead, will he come after me? What about my family? Would he report me to the police? The Mafia usually doesn’t involve the cops, but if he takes himself to a hospital, they might report the incident. If he’s alive. If he’s not, will I be in trouble with the Giordano family? The law would deem my actions self-defense, but would the Mafia be so understanding? I had to do what I did. I don’t regret it, but what consequences will it bring? The uncertainty is terrifying. Reaching for the bar of soap, I scrub at my skin as sobs wrack my body. I try to stay quiet. I’m not even sure why. Maybe because a part of me still feels unsafe. As though my cries will alert the world to what I’ve done. I scour my flesh until I can’t tell if I’m red from blood stains or excessive scrubbing. Eventually, I force myself to turn off the water. Silence awaits me. I used to love time alone—time for my mind to be free—but now, the silence is a petri dish for toxic thoughts and fears. As I towel off, a soft knock sounds on the door. “Luisa, dear, I’ve got a change of clothes for you. Can I come in?” I open the door and accept the stack of clothes she offers. “Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely, my throat raw from crying. “Of course. I’ve got a small tray of food along with some juice out here on the vanity. Help yourself. It might calm your nerves. Will you be okay up here tonight? I can stay in the room next door if you’re more comfortable having someone close.” The world doesn’t deserve Elena De Rossi. Her kindness and generosity are without reproach, and I have a sudden epiphany that a woman like her wouldn’t stray from her husband except in the most desperate of circumstances. If she found companionship in the arms of my father, it was for a good reason. Zeno may idolize his father, but I would bet money his parents’ marriage wasn’t what he thought. That Silvano De Rossi wasn’t who Zeno thought he was. “Thank you so much, Elena. I’ll be fine up here until I can sort things in the morning.” In the light of day, once the monsters are gone. “You’re always welcome here. We’ll get this all sorted tomorrow, I promise. For now, you take care of yourself. Get some rest and know that you’re safe at Hardwick.” She pulls me in for a motherly hug despite the stray droplets of water dotting my skin. I cling to her and the assurances she offers. I’ve handled my own problems for a long time. I had to. My mother wasn’t the type of mom I could turn to for help. Dad was always there for me, but there’s something different about a mother’s love. A generosity that I never experienced. Elena isn’t my mother, but at this moment, her maternal love for me is unquestionable. When I pull back, emotions lodge in my throat. I can’t speak, but I hope she can see the gratitude and love I have for her through my tear-filled eyes. Once she leaves, I put on the clothes she provided and slip beneath the covers of the king-sized bed. I leave the light on in the bathroom. I’m not ready to face the dark and the images it will summon. I would play music if I had my phone, but it got left behind at the cottage. There is nothing in the stately room to distract my mind save for the intricate chandelier above me. I start at the top and count the crystals, dull in the dim lighting. There are three hundred and twenty-five. I make it to one-hundred and thirty-two on my third count before exhaustion finally pulls me under. OceanofPDF.com I haven’t been asleep long when I wake, curled into a ball in the middle of the bed. I don’t know why I’ve woken until I sense a presence in the room. Terror floods my veins in an instant, but when I jerk upright, it’s Zeno I see sitting in the corner of the room. He lifts his hand to calm me. “It’s okay, Isa. It’s just me.” The gentle purr of his voice instantly soothes my thundering pulse back from near cardiac arrest. “Z.” It’s the only word I can squeeze past my constricting throat, but it’s all he needs to hear. Every bit of my fear and vulnerability is there in that one syllable. Zeno came when I needed him most, and my relief is instantaneous. He swiftly rises from his chair and joins me on the bed. I crawl onto his lap without hesitation, my body trembling from the comfort of his arms wrapping securely around me, as though I’d been holding in my fear and anxiety coiled tight in each muscle while I slept, but the presence of this mercurial man is all I need to release that tension. “Jesus, you had me worried,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve never driven so fast in my life.”
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