Page 52 of The Devil In Disguise

A loud ringing cuts through the silence, startling me with a gasp. The man has a short conversation then looks at me and motions toward the house with his head. “Let’s go, kid.”

When we get to the arched door, the man who went inside with Papa is waiting for us. He leads us into a living room, but Papa is nowhere to be seen. My feet stop working when my eyes land on the barely recognizable man tied to a chair, bleeding with cuts and bruises everywhere with a piece of tape covering his mouth. My heart races wildly in my chest and my body breaks out in a sweat at the sight, but I’m frozen. I can’t move.

I wanna go home.

Papa finally walks in with a woman in his arms, his friend helping him carry her out. Is she okay? Is he helping her?

They drop her carelessly to the floor and I don’t think they’re helping her anymore.

Who is she? What’s happening?

Her hands are tied together with something white that’s stained with blood and her whole body shakes from the force of her wails and cries. I’m assuming the blood on her hands came from the wound bleeding out from her stomach. Her curly, dark brown hair is wild, sticking to her face with the sweat, tears, and streaks of blood marring it. Why does no one else seem to care about what’s happening?

What about Mama?

Why is Papa doing this?

“Stop! Papa, what are you—" Cameo slaps his hand over my mouth and drags me to a far wall, silencing me until the first tear falls. That’s when I worry Papa will see me crying and punish me, too. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and count to ten to force the tears down, but it hardly works.

When my eyes open again, Papa is shoving his pants down and crawling over the woman’s body speaking tenderly. “Preziosa, you will take me and you will like it while your poor, defenseless marito watches you die like the whore you are.” He turns to the man in the chair who is still crying and struggling. “You never should have won her. She was meant to be mine, traditore. None of this would be happening if you only knew your place.”

The lady spits at Papa and it lands on his neck. He just wipes it off and his facial expression changes in a split second. “Don’t worry, cunt. I’ll put that mouth to good use.” He says, grabbing her cheeks roughly with one hand.

“Burn in hell, Renato.” Halfway through saying his name, Papa reaches down with his free hand and pinches her nose until her mouth opens, then he takes the opportunity to stick his manhood into her mouth. Shutting my eyes again, I focus on my breathing and not freaking out. The tears have long since taken over me. It isn't until Papa yells that my eyes open without permission.

“You bitch, did you just bite me?” Papa shoots backward then backhands her. He looks at his friends and cocks his head toward the man in the chair. Cameo leaves my side to hand my papa a pistol. A pistol he trains on the woman's head, shushing her and spreading her legs while his other friend trains his gun on the man in the chair.

Taking the only chance I have to get out of there, I run out the nearest door down a long, dim hallway around the corner into the last room I can find. It’s a baby pink playroom with strawberries painted on the walls and toys scattered all over the carpet. Leaving the door slightly ajar, I venture deeper inside both admiring the room and looking for a place to hide.

I suck in a breath when I stub my toe on something. Looking down, the carpet is slightly raised. Prying the wood board up reveals a dark, hidden room. The small amount of light from the room shines a spotlight on something that moved. Upon closer inspection, I realize it’s a little girl in a purple dress hiding, too. She’s rocking back and forth, crying, shaking. Her brown eyes are wide with terror and fresh tears, but she’s quiet with her little hand covering her mouth. She stops rocking as we stare at each other and slowly shakes her head no.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I whisper. After another second to make sure she heard me, I run out of the room in the opposite direction. Right as I reach the next room I want to hide in, someone picks me up from behind, dragging me away.

“Can’t have you wandering around and getting lost,” Cameo’s gruff voice meets my ears.

When I’m dropped on my feet again, we’re back in the living room and Papa has his pants back on, but the lady on the floor is barely breathing. I want to ask why no one will help her, but if what they have been doing this entire time has shown me anything, it’s that they don’t want this to be over quickly. They aren’t going to help anyone.

If I was big, I would stop Papa and all his friends. Trying will only make me next on his list, probably.

Pow. Pow. Pow.

The tears are back, harder than the first time as my stomach churns with a sickening mix of horror and disbelief. The woman is dead. She isn’t struggling anymore, but the man in the chair looks sicker than I feel. Papa looks…happier than I have ever seen him. A smile takes over his face, but it isn’t a good one in any way.

He’s a monster.

Walking up to the man in the chair, he rips the tape off of his mouth and says, “How does your throw up taste, figlio di puttana?” The man opens his mouth after a second to say something, but Papa strikes him with his ringed fist.

I want mi mama.

At this point, I’m borderline hyperventilating next to Cameo who won’t move a muscle, much less let me run away from this scene straight out of a nightmare. My hazy vision from the endless tears do little to hide the monstrosity going on in front of me. Last night's dinner makes a reappearance as I puke it all onto the clean carpet.

Mama, save me. Please.

That’s my last thought before everything catches up to me and the dizziness takes over, until all the pain and chaos fades to black.

It’s a memory I’ve never been able to forget, and for the longest time, I was sick to the point of throwing up whenever I thought about the mere act of sex.

Renato told me her parents left her here. He was the one who slaughtered them, took them from her. Then lied to me about it for years.

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