Page 9 of Bloody Tainted Lies

My mother comes around the island to find me sitting against it, and she kneels at my feet. “What happened?” Her voice is soft, gentle, everything my father could never be for me.

“Papà kicked me out of the basement.”

Understanding shines in her eyes. I don’t even need to finish the story because she sits on the ground next to me and pulls me toward her lap. Her long fingers get tangled in my hair, and she brushes the strands out.

“Our place is not down there with them, Camilla.” She says so softly I almost don’t hear her. “We are the ones who care for the home and have everything they need in place. We take care of them when they come upstairs. But when they’re down there? We don’t follow. Not unless you want to see things that will break you beyond repair.”

“What could possibly break me? They’re just playing poker.”

My mom’s fingers pause in my hair, “That’s not all they’re doing, sweetheart. One day, you will understand, and when the day comes, you will know to never step foot in a basement again.”

I listen intently, wanting to learn more about this life I’m supposed to lead. Except none of it makes me happy anymore. The closer I get to my wedding date with Leo, the less I want to do it. And now this? What if I don’t want to marry him anymore?

What if I fall out of love?

It’s two days before my party, and my mother has arranged for all the preparations. I was thinking I wanted more of a house party vibe—low-key—but I should’ve known they wouldn’t let me have that. Although they don’t live here and only visit occasionally, they still have to manage my life one way or another. So my mother is taking the planning to extremes—as always. It’s not surprising in the least, just a bit irritating.

There’s flowers and cocktail tables. Hors d’oeuvres planned. And now she wants to make it to where people have to wear semi-formal attire too. At least they’ve decided not to stay for the party and let me have my twenty-first birthday to act however I want. I feel like there has to be an ulterior motive, but maybe I’m just being suspicious. I don’t know though, it just doesn’t feel like something my father would let me do.

What is more suspicious though, is this dinner right now. They haven’t arranged for us to have dinner together since Andrea died six months ago, and I don’t want to be here. It’s obviously mandatory, though. Everything is where my father is involved.

Even my brother Alessandro doesn’t want to be here right now, as evidenced by the fact that we haven’t spoken since Dre died. Being a few years older than me, he’s always been distant. We’ve never had a relationship. He’s always avoided me like the plague, and now that there’s no buffer between us, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he wants nothing to do with me. He’s only here because he has to be—because he’s forced to be.

My parents have offered him this house time and time again, or at least a room in it, and he has always turned them down. Currently, he lives off-campus, in his own apartment somewhere. I couldn’t figure out if I tried because I didn’t have the privilege to have that knowledge. The only thing I know about him now is that he’s a postgraduate student pursuing his Masters in Business Administration. And the fact that my understanding of him is so limited hurts, but not more than the fact that he literally won’t interact with me unless forced to. Does he somehow blame me for Andrea’s death?

Alessandro accidentally bumps his soup bowl with the spoon and looks around at us. It’s been the only sound since we started eating, and both my parents look up from their food.

This is awkward.

We shouldn’t be doing it.

“Andrea should be here.” I finally burst out, because someone needed to say it. “He should be here. This is so unfair.” My eyes water and tears spill down my cheeks, making my chest tight with emotion. My throat closes up as a sob makes its way up, and my father slams his fist down on the table, making all the china rattle.

“Stop, Camilla.” He says.

“It’s not a family dinner without him!” I look at my brother briefly, and he keeps his eyes down as I say all of this, not wanting to make eye contact with our father.

“Shut the fuck up.” Matteo DeLuca growls because, at this moment, he’s not my dad. He’s someone else in a familiar body. He hates talking about Andrea, but someone has to.Mammastarts crying now too, her body rocking with her sobs. “Stop crying, Camilla.” He tells me as I sniffle. “Move on.Ihave, why can’t you?”

“Because he was my baby brother!” I scream at him.

I recoil when he comes around the table and stands in front of me, rearing his hand back and slapping my face. I should’ve seen it coming, should’ve known he’d lose his cool. But I don’t even care right now because I’m going to keep Dre’s memory alive if it’s the last thing I do.

My head snaps to the side, towards Alessandro, and he cringes. My lip stings, and when I touch it, my hand comes back with a small amount of blood. My mother stops crying immediately and, instead, narrows her eyes at my father. Then she comes to stand by my side.

“Back. Off.” She raises her chin defiantly like I always do, “Don’t you dare hit her again for saying my son’s name.”

Before my father can reply, I push my chair back and run out of the dining room. I’m running up the grand staircase, down a hallway, and finally to my room. I lock the door behind me, not wanting to be bothered. I’m waiting until they all leave so I can also leave the house, so I get my phone out to text my best friend.

Camilla

What are we doing tonight?

Annie

Let’s go dancing.

Camilla

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