Page 20 of The Devil's Den

My friend. That’s what he is. The only one I have. I can’t lose him. He can’t die. But every single day they drag him away, I’m afraid that’ll be the day he doesn’t come back.

He hates for me to see him hurt. Whether it’s his cut-up knuckles or the bruises on his face, he tries to hide it all. But that’s not something a person can hide. He’ll tell me to go, that he’s tired, but I know what he’s trying to do.

I wait for him to come out of the shower, sitting on the bed. Louis, the man who still watches the house during the day, stares at me, leaning against the wall, waiting to chain Matteo back up. Why can’t my stupid father just lock the damn room and let him move around like a person? He can only walk right past the mattress and to the corner of the room.

The door clicks open, and Matteo comes out, his hair still damp. He’s fully dressed.

“Finally.” Louis huffs like he had to wait longer than the damn five minutes it took. “Let’s go.” He grabs Matteo, who shoves his hand away with a snarl. “You fucking do that again and I’ll cut your arm off,” Louis warns and Matteo grits his teeth in response, glaring hard as he’s yanked to the bed, the chain enveloping his wrist.

“Your father said to come right up in five minutes. Don’t piss him off.”

“Mm-hmm.” I roll my eyes in annoyance. “Bye, now.” I shoo him away with a hand, popping my brows as I sit next to Matteo on the mattress.

He bites down while eyeing us cruelly, cursing as he heads for the stairs. Once the door shuts, I breathe a sigh of relief.

I hate these people—my father, my uncles, their men. Why can’t something bad happen to all of them so Matteo and I could run away like we planned to when we first met.

“Why do you still want to be my friend?” Matteo asks, staring at his own hands while playing with his fingers.

I jerk back. “What kind of silly question is that?”

“A serious one.” He drags in a long inhale, finally looking at me. “I’m not a good person, Aida.”

“Bullshit. You may have forgotten, but we’re friends forever. Remember? Friends don’t give up on each other.”

He peers down onto the floor.

“Why don’t you talk to me?” I whisper right into his ear so no one hears. “Why can’t you tell me what’s been going on? Maybe I can help.”

His head shakes sadly as he pitches back with a mournful stare. “You can’t. If you wanna help, then run, Aida. Leave this place when no one’s looking, or you’ll never get out.”

I scoff. “Even if I could, I’m not leaving you. Ever. You’re stuck with me.” I shrug. “We either go together or I don’t go at all.”

His hand lands over mine, holding on tight. “You have to think about yourself.”

“I’m sorry.” I look him hard in the eyes. “I can’t do that.”

“I’m sorry too.” His face turns into a frown.

“Aida,” Ms. Greco calls. “Come on up, we have homework.”

“Ugh!” I groan.

“Go.” He gazes onto his lap as I reluctantly get to my feet.

“I’ll come back, okay?” I incline my head, angling it toward him, hoping to catch his eyes. He finally glances up. “We’ll study together later, once my father leaves.”

“Yeah, okay.” He sighs. “I’m gonna sleep for a bit though.” He begins to lower onto the bed, giving me his back like I’m disturbing him.

My heart clenches and my palms fall against my chest. My poor Matteo. Why did you ever have to end up here? I’d give it all away—knowing you, loving you—just so you never have to suffer.

I whirl toward the stairs, running up before I start to cry, making it to the kitchen just as the first quiet sob rips through me. Sliding down onto the floor against the kitchen island, my palms covering my face, my body trembles while I break with the force of my emotions.

Why am I such a loser? Why can’t I help my friend? Why am I afraid of him—my horror of a father? I should kill him in his sleep. I want to. I could. Maybe.Ugh!No. No, I can’t. I’m not a killer. But maybe I should be.

Footsteps creep closer, but I don’t have the energy to discover who it is. “Aida?” Ms. Greco’s concern spills from her voice. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Everything! I wish I was never born,” I cry lowly, swiping my palms over my eyes as I peek up at her. “How could you not help Matteo? Why can’t you do something? I’m just a kid, but you’re an adult.”

---