Page 66 of The Devil's Den

“Oh, Aida…” Her brows pinch. “I don’t think you want to hear this.”

“Tell me.” My words are fitted with agitation.

Her eyelids drift to a close. “One night after he…”

“Raped her?” I finish.

“Yeah.” She pulls in a long, heavy breath, like reciting it is difficult, and I’m sure it is. “A few weeks after you two arrived, he was dragging her across the hall upstairs and she started yelling at him, calling him names, so he…” Her chin trembles as she shakes her head, a palm landing over her mouth as tears outline her cheeks. Mine roll down too. “He bashed her head into the wall, over and over until she stopped crying. Until she was no longer moving.”

“Oh God.” A snivel rolls out from me, drenched with her own. “Where’s her body?”

“I don’t know. I’m so sorry.” Her hand lands on mine. “You’re very much her daughter. Tough. Kind.”

My fingers dig into my eyes as I quietly fall into despair. My mother, she was his victim too. And the only light in this tunnel is knowing I don’t share his blood.

“Do you know who my father is?”

“No, I don’t. Your mother never opened up about her life before. She was probably too scared to fully trust me and I don’t blame her. There’s no one you can trust in our world.”

“How could you keep this from me for so long? Knowing how badly I wish I knew my mother!”

“Aida, I thought I was keeping you from more pain. I thought you thinking your mother died in childbirth, like he led you to believe, was far easier to swallow than the truth. But I was wrong.” She cradles my hand in both of hers. “Your mother, she thought keeping the truth was the best for you too, so I honored her wishes. For that I’m truly sorry. I hope you can forgive me, because I’ll never forgive myself.”

A new throbbing builds behind my eyes. “Of—of course, I forgive you.” My tear-filled sobbing slices the room, the pain coming in from all sides. I don’t know how much I can handle as my torment permeates every living cell in my body, my palms drenched as I cry into them. Her arms hold me still as we huddle together in shared agony.

I often wonder, why evil rises when goodness falls?

* * *

MATTEO

I haven’t slept a wink since they brought me back to the basement. I’ve paced for hours, cursing, screaming, swearing to kill them all. She hasn’t been down here and neither has Ms. Greco.

I don’t fucking know what time it is anymore. I’m on an endless loop of seeing her hurt by those animals. It’s lucky they had masks on because I’d find and kill them all. My heart beats so loud, it practically jumps out of my throat. I don’t know how to contain my rage. It grows with every second, every hour, until I bash my head against the wall.

Someone’s at the door, and I freeze, my fists balled at my side. “Aida? Is that you?” I want it to be her so goddamn bad. I need to hold her, to keep her with me, away from the clutches of the sadistic man who she thought was her father, and in this basement is the only way I know how.

The stairs creek and she’s finally at the end of them, a hoodie over her head, her eyes streaked red, her eyelids swollen.

“Hi, beautiful—” I break with a cry, and I run to her, reaching just beyond the mattress, just as she runs to me with a sob.

I hold her as we both shed layers of insurmountable agony. I need her to know I feel it too. Her pain. It’s mine just as much as it is hers. Our love has tied our suffering into one loop, and when she bleeds, I do too.

“He brought me to the club a-and…” She wails on my shoulder, her breaths warm, her tears soaking up my shirt.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me because I already know.”

She pushes out of my grasp, her brows snapping. “How?”

“He…” I inhale slowly, shutting my eyes for a second to gather the damn courage to tell her. “He brought me there so I could watch… Fuck!” I explode, punching my forehead with my fist. “Fuck!”

Her hands still over my fist. “Stop. Don’t do that,” she cries.

“I’m sorry, Aida. I’m sick of fucking apologizing to you, but it’s all I’ve got.” My lips lower to her forehead, and I keep them there as seconds drift by, my heartbeats pummeling like crazy.

Once I move back, I stare deep into the brokenness of her gaze. “I swear, if I ever get the chance, I’ll rip out your father’s heart and give it to you while it’s still beating.”

“He’s not my father,” she says.

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