Page 26 of Bianchi

How is this real life?

Three days ago—at least I think that’s how long it’s been—I watched a bullet pass through a man’s head and saw his body crumple onto the table in front of me. That’s three days since I felt a bullet rush past my ear and into the skull of a man holding a gun to my temple.

I turn a blind eye to the glaring fact that it’s also been three days since I had sex with the man holding me captive. He hasn’t been to see me since. Why would he? Daniele came to collect me, just like Romeo said he would, and that alone said everything I needed to know. And just like that, with the forced reminder of our dynamic, I dismiss the pull in my chest that amplifies my body’s yearning for him.

Since being banished to my prison cell, I’ve only seen one person. An older woman who introduced herself as Alma when she dropped a tray of food off and the drawing materials I’d asked Daniele for. She comes three times a day with a homemade meal, collecting the still full tray from the previous time. I could lie and say the reason I haven’t eaten is because I’m worried they’ll poison the food, but what would be the point? I haven’t eaten because I need to be in control of at least one thing in my life, and this is it.

Locked away in my windowless room, I’ve spent my days sketching out the memories that plague me. Some are happy, others are sad, but none are of the face of the man who showed up in my dream tonight. My favorites are the ones from when I was younger and my mom was still alive. We’d travel hours out of the city to a big house, and I’d play with the children that lived there while she… I don’t actually know what she did. Once a month, we’d take three buses from the city and I’d get to play with three little boys.

The flashbacks are hazy and the boys remain faceless, but there are some things that I can see so clearly. Like the fountain and the garden of roses that are sometimes bright and red, but other times bleak and black. I don’t know what any of it means, but at least the time seems to pass quickly when my mind is occupied with looking back on the past.

In a daze, I turn on the shower and immediately walk under the cold spray. The material of the T-shirt soaks through in a matter of seconds, sticking to the curves of my body. I fall forward, my arms heavy when I lift them to press my hands to the wall and keep myself upright.

The water pours over my head and I give in to the sobs that have my body convulsing. My chest aches, and when my knees give out, I collapse onto the grimy tiled floor, unable to stop myself. I curl into a ball with the water still pounding down on me and goosebumps forming on every inch of my skin. Even as my teeth chatter, I scream out in pain and anguish. Everything is just too much. How do I survive any of this?

It feels like an eternity before the water switches off. I stare at the cubicle wall, unmoving, with my arms wrapped around my waist, silently begging for a different kind of devil to come for me.

Chapter 15

Romeo

After three days of living in a car, we’ve achieved absolutely nothing. The information we were given was a dud and whoever was there was long gone before we even arrived. Either they were lucky, or someone told them we were coming.

We’re back to where we were three days ago. Con niente. Every avenue we chase down leads to a dead end.

Massimo’s exhausted voice cuts through the quiet of the car as Leonardo navigates the winding driveway back to the house. “Let's rest up. I’ll have Alma fix us some food later and then we can figure out our next steps.”

I bounce my knee and stare blankly out of the window. Despite the fatigue hovering over me like a dark cloud, there’s an anticipation running through me as we close the distance to the house. Distracted, I reply, “Sounds good, cousin.”

The car comes to a stop at the bottom of the steps and we climb out, our exhaustion clear in our crumpled clothes and the way we’re having to force ourselves to move. One of Massimo’s men greets us, avoiding my gaze. “Don.” He inclines his head before running a hand over the back of his neck. “We, uh, had a situation with the prisoner this morning.”

My brow furrows, and I step between him and Massimo, forcing his attention to me. I’m at least a head taller than him as I get into his space. “What do you mean ‘a situation’?” The venom in my tone is barely concealed. I ignore why it’s there in the first place and grab onto his shirt, forcing him back.

Wide eyes meet mine before he corrects himself and masks his fear. When his heels hit the bottom step, I take his weight, pulling him until our faces are inches from each other. “You look at me when you’re talking about her. If I have to remind you again, I’ll have no problem gouging your eyes out.”

His eyes widen and he stutters, “S-sorry, sir.”

Releasing him, I straighten the cuffs of my shirt. Massimo’s mouth pulls into a smug smirk and I clench my fists by my sides to keep from knocking it off his face.

“We found her in the shower…”

My stomach drops. He holds his hands up. “She’s fine.” The ‘I think’ hovers in the air before he continues, “The water was switched off as soon as we realized. We reviewed the video footage, and it looks like something spooked her. She gets into the shower—fully clothed—but then she—” He pauses, shuffling his feet as if he knows his next words will displease me. “Well, she collapsed to the floor, and when she didn’t get up…” He trails off, shrugging as if the rest of the sentence should finish itself.

Massimo’s hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing as he speaks for me. “Lorenzo, where is she now?”

Lorenzo’s gulp is audible and echoes around the garden. I grind my back molars. He at least has the sense to look away when he replies, “She’s still in her cell. We called Aldo, but he said you’d been clear on the instructions to leave her. That we were to only go in there if we were taking her food and Alma has been doing that.”

He continues talking, rambling about how they were following my orders and that he was concerned because she hasn’t been eating, but I’m not fully listening. It only takes a second before I’m racing up the stairs and into the house. My muscles tighten with every step I take and guilt gnaws in my gut. I should have never left her for this long.

Thankfully, the door to the basement is unlocked. I swing it open, uncaring when it knocks into the credenza behind. I race down the stairs, urgency fueling my movements. The key is hanging on the wall next to the door and I snatch it up before forcing myself to take a breath so I can unlock it.

The relief I feel when I get it open is short-lived when my eyes land on Aurora. There’s an ache in my throat and a sourness on my tongue as I take in her lifeless body. She’s curled up in the fetal position on the shower floor. Unblinking eyes stare straight ahead and if it wasn’t for the tremors wracking her body, I’d think she was dead.

What have you done, Aurora?

My footsteps are hurried and heavy as I move across the room and snatch up the blanket from the bed. Striding toward her, I curse every single one of Massimo’s men for having left her in this state. Would she have still been alive if we’d come back in a day or two?

She doesn’t look to see who it is, and for some unexplainable reason, that pisses me off more. I never should have left her down here. If she dies… Cristo, I can’t think about that. She’s going to be okay. Crouching down, I throw the blanket over her body and smooth a hand over her arm. She doesn’t stir or move, instead, she continues to stare straight ahead.

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