Page 65 of Bianchi

Chapter 41

Aurora

My body convulses, making the box springs on the metal bed frame squeak from the violence of the movement. Clenching my teeth, I wait for the pain that will inevitably follow.

Some time ago, with Anastasia’s words ringing in my ears, I dragged myself from the floor and onto the cot. Tearing off a strip of the sheet, I wrapped it around my thigh, but I don’t think it’s tight enough. Blood is starting to soak through the fabric, and I feel weaker with every second that passes.

Have I been left here to die?

Nobody has been to check on me. Or at least I don’t think they have. I’ve been falling in and out of consciousness ever since I was brought back. Hell, I don’t have the strength to try to escape, but moreover, I don’t have the will to. This is me officially giving up. This is me breaking the promise to Romeo because… how could he do this to me? How could he be so callous as to leave me here?

Because that’s who he is.

The devil.

A sob breaks free, but I do nothing to stop it. The tortured sound reverberates around the room. I only wanted to protect Romeo, but he’s willing to leave me in the hands of his enemies to die.

Now more than ever, I wish he’d pulled the trigger the day he broke into my apartment. If he had, I wouldn’t have drowned in what I thought was love. I can’t believe I was so stupid. What we had was lust, pure and simple, and hidden behind it, was an evil darkness cloaked in deception. Just like the man himself. Romeo used me for his own agenda and the second he no longer needed me, he disposed of me. And he’s letting someone else do his dirty work.

The only person who has ever shown me real love is my mom. I was content to simply exist, waiting for the day I’d die so I could finally be reunited with her and bask in that kind of love again. It was lightness and laughter, wrapped in the warmest of hugs.

I close my eyes and turn onto my side, angling my head to relieve the pressure on my cheekbone and jaw. I’ll be back with her soon and then I can finally be rid of the memories of Romeo Bianchi.

Swallowing thickly, my throat contracts painfully. It feels like days since I last had a drink.

Opening my eyes, I give up on the delusional idea that I can slip away into nothingness. This isn’t how this stuff works. It’s not like the movies where everyone seems to die within seconds. My death will not be quick.

With my eyes fixed on the wall in front of me, I trace my fingers over the bricks. The course texture scrapes over my sensitive flesh and is a reminder that this is real. Sure, the pain my body feels with every breath is also a reminder, but there’s a numbness seeping into my bones as I accept what this is. The end.

The sound of a key jangling on the opposite side of the door forces me to roll over. I wince with every movement, but the need to see who’s coming urges me on. Holding my breath, I send up a prayer that will no doubt go unanswered, begging for it to be anyone but the man who wanted to violate me.

A young boy—he can’t be any older than fifteen—juggles a tray in one hand as he pushes the heavy door open with the other. Briefly, he meets my gaze before his eyes widen and he drops his head. When he reaches the end of the cot, he carefully slides the tray onto the mattress before darting another glance at me.

Sitting up, I hiss at the slicing pain that shoots through my body before reaching out and loosely gripping his arm. “What is going to happen to me?” My voice is barely a whisper.

His eyes dart to the door and his voice is hushed, like he knows he’ll get in trouble for talking to me. “I don’t know.”

Of course he doesn’t. Why would he? For a moment, I consider trying to overpower him. He’s left the door open—he’s skinny and looks like he’s barely eaten a meal this week himself. A twinge in my thigh reminds me of the state of my body, and I dismiss the idea. I won’t be doing much other than bleeding out on this uncomfortable mattress.

Releasing him, I pull the red plastic tray he’s left toward me, dismissing him. It’s hardly a nutritious meal. Something resembling porridge, an apple, and a bottle of water. Great, no spoon. I guess they figured I might use it as a weapon. Which is laughable because what damage can really be done with a spoon.

When I open the bottle of water and bring it to my lips, he turns to leave. On the threshold, he watches me as I drink down the room temperature liquid, half hiding behind the door.

I don’t understand why he’s not left.

I keep my tone low. After all, I don’t know who could be on the other side of the door. “What’s today’s date?”

“The twenty-seventh.”

Okay, that means it’s been four days since I was taken. Four days of being held captive with no hope of ever making it out. I swallow down the helplessness that’s threatening to drive me insane. “Have they left?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

What are they waiting for? Romeo isn’t coming. I’m of no use to them now that he’s disowned me.

“Do you have a pencil?”

His brows pull together before he shakes his head and steps back. I’m not fast enough and my legs aren’t strong enough when I push up from the bed and stagger the six steps across the room.

---