Page 65 of The Devil's Den

I shake my head, my vision marred by the anguish drenching the very depth of me. “I’m sorry,” I cry openly, and his laughter is one of victory. “I’m so sorry, Aida.”

She screams. Their hands are everywhere. So many hands I can barely see her. After a while, she stops crying, stops screaming. She just lies there, letting them do whatever they want. And I get it. She’s hiding behind the pain the way I do. But you can only hide for so long.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

AIDA

I’ve beenin the shower for hours, the hot water sluicing down my body. I can still feel their hands. Everywhere. My insides ache, my skin burning from the mere thoughts. The tears have long been replaced by silence and I don’t want them to get out again.

The bathroom is like a false safe haven, where no one can touch me. But my father, he can do anything. Anytime. He proved that today.

His wickedness knows no bounds. He tears me down every single time I think I’ve finally built myself back up. I’ll never escape him. I’ll never be free. Not unless I die.

After tonight, I wish I were. If only I had ended my life when I swallowed those pills. Why the hell didn’t they work? Why did Matteo have to save me? If he hadn’t, maybe I’d have choked on my own vomit instead.

It’s well past morning the following day. I only know because of when I arrived home. Destiny cleaned me up after they were through with me and helped me get dressed before one of my father’s men drove me home.

I can’t get all those people out my head. How could they just sit there and do nothing as though I was just an actress? It’s sick. It’s as though they’ve lost their minds to their depravity.

Those men, I can still feel their breaths on my neck, their groans in my ear. My stomach rolls and I dry heave in the shower, gasping for air, clawing at my chest.

My skin at my arms is a bright red from how hot the water is, but I barely feel a thing. I stay here as long as I can, then shut off the water and open the glass door, stepping out into the chill. My body shivers as I grab a towel, drying off with shaky hands, putting on an oversized hoodie and sweats.

When I exit to my room, Ms. Greco is there with a mug in hand. “Drink this. It’s chamomile tea.”

I take it and plod to my bed, sitting on one side while she sits on the other.

“A-Aida…” She trails off. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, everyone is always sorry.” I laugh bitterly.

“Your mother, she loved you so much,” she whispers with a cry.

“What?” I jerk, drops of tea burning my thigh. “Wait a minute, are you saying…” I swallow, my mouth dry and sandy.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My pulse beats in my ears for several seconds.

She stares down, avoiding me, and when she peers up, there’s shame within her gaze. “I—I’m sorry for lying… I…” Her voice echoes with whispered cries.

I jerk back, a sudden eerie feeling creeping up my arms.

“When you asked me about that dream,” she goes on, “I froze. I didn’t think you’d ever remember, and I didn’t want you to. And your mother, she wouldn’t want it either. She had me swear if you ever asked, I’d lie.”

“W-wha— Are you saying I saw…my memories?” I recoil. “No…” I breathe.

She nods solemnly. “You were almost five when I met you. Such a smart girl. Beautiful like your mother.” She smiles sadly, her lips tight. “I just started working for him when I met you both. That’s why he brought me here, to take care of you.”

The cup trembles in my hands and I slowly lower it onto the nightstand. I didn’t want my dreams to be real. I didn’t want that for my mother. For me. It was better when I thought she died in childbirth…but now…

Oh God.

Tears slam past my defenses even when I swore I was done crying.

“Whenever I’d come down to bring you two food, your mom and I would talk. I’d like to think we became friends. She had me promise that if anything should happen to her, I’d look out for you. I hope I’ve done that. I hope…” She sniffles. “I hope I’ve been able to do that one thing for her.”

“What happened to my mother?” I whisper, edging to the middle of the bed. “Where is she?”

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