Page 52 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
I then pace the room trying to make sense of what I saw in there, and trying to align the girl I knew back in the Hamptons with the girl who has cut her legs to shreds with a fucking blade.
I’m no further on in my enlightenment when I hearher scream. It’s thick and guttural—and the only sound to ever make my conviction unyielding.
In a beat I’m at the door to the bedroom, opening it tentatively. I’m careful when I step inside—I don’t want to frighten her any more than I already have.
Walking softly to the bed, I hear her whimper as she turns to her side. Her beautiful face is screwed up into a deep, anguished frown but as the breaths come and go, getting longer and deeper, it relaxes.
I stand by the side of her bed for a few more minutes, just to make sure she isn’t alone if she cries out again.
When I’m sure she’s settled, I back out of the room once more.
Serafina
I wake to the sound of someone moving around in the main suite. I don’t need a moment to remember where I am. How could I possibly forget? These black walls and this wretched bed have been the focus of my nightmares the last six hours.
Damp hair clings to my forehead and my limbs feel exhausted from the stress.
I pray to God Andreas doesn’t breathe a word of this to my family. They will be devastated. After Mama died, we all faced such devastating sadness and lived through our grief in very different ways. Trilby hid hers behind a physical wall; Tess exorcized her demons through dancing; Bambi attached herself to Papa; and I released heavy shadows by cutting open my skin.
Every grievous thoughtI have, every heavy emotion I feel, every ounce of guilt I take on is locked up inside my body, and I carryso much. It has to come out somehow.
Just because my coping mechanism isn’t to everyone’s taste doesn’t make it any less valid. I don’t care what anyone says—self-harming has kept me afloat.
But now that someone else knows my secret, I am bereft. I can barely hold my head above the shame. I’mdrowningin it. And of all the people to discover my truth, it has to be the man I’m beholden to for the rest of my life.
I curl my knees into my chest again, trying to make myself small enough that maybe I could just disappear.
But a knock at the door sends a wrecking ball into my gut.
“Just a minute!” I call out with a croaky voice.
Stone cold dread makes me jump off the bed and run to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Nausea floods my throat and I kneel over the toilet, bringing back up the small amount I ate at the wedding.
I sink to the floor, shaking.
I can’t face him. I just can’t. I’ve never felt so ashamed, and I can’t bear to see the disappointment embedded in his darkly beautiful features.
Ten or so minutes later, my bare bottom on the tile is freezing, so I clamber to my feet and splash some water on my face. There’s a luxurious white cotton robe hanging by the shower and I slip my arms inside it. Amazingly, it fits. Usually, the standard issue hotelrobes are made for model-thin women, but this one is the perfect size for me.
My limbs shake as I walk across the bedroom. I take a deep breath and open the door. The suite is larger and lighter than I remember it, instantly narrowing my eyes against the streaming sunlight. I blink, taking a few seconds to acclimate, then the sound of a woman’s voice sends my heart up my throat.
“Good morning, signora.”
I spin around to see a short, sturdy woman dressed in a black skirt and white blouse, her salt and pepper hair wrapped into a wide bun on the top of her head. Her thick-rimmed glasses narrow to a pointed flick making me think of an efficient secretary, but her expression is more kind than strict.
She’s holding a tablet and looks as though I’ve caught her midway through some admin, as she glances at it, snaps the cover shut, then turns to give me her full attention.
“Who are you?” I ask in a trembling voice. “How did you get in here?”
She holds the tablet to her stomach and wraps her arms around it, regarding me gently.
“My name is Viola. I’m Signor Corioni’s housekeeper. He sent for me in the night.”
I shift from one foot to the other. “Oh. Right. Um, where is he?”
“Your husband returned to Boston early. He has business to attend to.”
Blood starts to creep up my neck sending a glowinto my face. “But, I… I thought we were going to travel to Boston together.”
