Page 201 of The Devil's Fire

Giovanni gave a slight nod before stepping aside so I could get into the car. Damiano held my arm as my legs wobbled towards the vehicle.

Completely exhausted, we sat silently in the backseat. I rested my head against the window, desperately wanting to close my eyes and sleep, but I couldn’t. My mother’s face was all I saw when I closed my eyes, so I had to distract myself by continuously looking out of the window.

“How many days…?” I asked quietly, watching as we drove past the fields.

“You were out for three days.” He said, surprising me with his answer. “Eight days have passed.”

I swallowed hard at the information. Eight days had gone by. Eight days I had somehow survived and lived without a mother. How was I supposed to continue living my life like this?

“We’ll figure it out.” Damiano said softly to me, as if he had read my thoughts.

We arrived at the manor, and it seemed unusually quiet when I stepped out of the car. Or maybe it was just because I was in deep sorrow that everything appeared dark and gloomy. Even the majestic manor didn’t seem very majestic at this moment. It was as if I had lost all vision of color, and all I could see was dark gray.

Cara was there when I entered. She looked at me with her sad, red eyes and her disheveled hair. Quickly walking up to me, she embraced me as she broke down.

My arms were down by my sides. I stared numbly over her shoulder, avoiding eye contact with anyone. I don't think there were any more tears for me to spill. I was a standing empty hollow.

I felt her tears seep into my shirt, and I slowly patted her on the back, attempting to offer some comfort. I had no idea what to say. I wasn’t sure if there was anything I could say that would make things better.

Cara leaned back to look at me, but I avoided her eyes and stared down. I didn’t want to be reminded that I had lost both a mother and a baby simultaneously.

“I…uh…I’m tired.” I said, offering the only excuse I could think of to be left alone. I made my way to the stairs, looking up at them and realizing, in my current state, I wouldn’t be able to handle walking up on my own.

“Allow me.” Damiano said, and he carried me in his arms. We ended up in his room where he gently placed me on the bed.

“The bathtub is ready if you want to wash up now.” Damiano said. I nodded, desperately needing to scrub myself clean and erase all evidence of what I had been through.

I kept looking down at my hands. Even though there was nothing on them, I felt like they were covered in thick blood, unconsciously wiping them against my clothes to somehow rid myself of the feeling. But no matter what I did, the feeling always came back.

Damiano helped me undress, careful not to move my arms too much as my ribs still ached. It was impossible to lift my arms above my head without wincing in pain.

I made the mistake of glancing in the mirror, only to be shocked by the sight of my own appearance.

I swallowed hard. I looked as though I had been beaten black and blue, with bruises covering my entire body and face. My eyes appeared hollow, and my skin was unusually pale. Drawing in a shaky breath, I touched my throat with my trembling hand. The nasty dark purple color revealed the evidence of having been choked.

I looked like I had died and been brought back to life.

Damiano stepped in front of me to prevent me from seeing myself in the mirror. Seeing my reflection was horrifying. If this was how I looked after eight days, I didn’t want to dare to think how I looked when he found me. How could he even stand to look at me?

“Come.” He gently led me to the bathtub. The hot water enveloped me, providing a soothing sensation that made me let out a small sigh.

Damiano was being careful and gentle with me. He washed and dried me, then brushed my hair once I was dressed.

“Althaia, you have to eat.” He insisted, continuing his efforts to coax me into eating. The sight of food was unappetizing, making me feel nauseous.

“I’m not hungry.” I replied, moving away, and lying down on the bed. I turned my back to him and closed my eyes.

The pills he had given me made me extremely sleepy. I struggled to keep my eyes open, not wanting to be trapped in the nightmares again, even though they haunt me when I am awake too.

Damiano sighed, placing the untouched food to the side. He joined me in bed, gently caressing my head. Unable to fight it, I allowed myself to succumb to sleep.

sixty-six

Damiano

“Are you getting any sleep?” Arianna asked me, a concerned expression on her face.

“How do you expect me to sleep when she’s going through hell?” I snapped at her.

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