Page 27 of Darkest Oblivion
My throat tightened. Isabella’s face flashed in my mind—my mother. And Nonna, resilient but fragile with age. They’d think I’d abandoned them. They’d wonder why I never came home.
“Why?” My fists curled against the floor. “Why me?”
I tipped my head back, staring at the ornate ceiling above.
Was I really that stupid at fifteen? Promising him forever over lemonade and giggles—like a fool. Blind to the cruelty that would come, to how far he’d go just to force me to keep that promise.” My voice broke, ragged, the words scraping out of me.
The walls seemed to close in around me.
A shrill alarm split the silence, stabbing through my skull like a blade.
I jerked upright, my pulse detonating in my veins. My sneakers squealed against polished marble as I sprinted toward the sound, panic pounding in every step.
The noise led me to the living room, where a sleek digital clock blinked furiously on a glass table. Its red numbers glowed with quiet menace: 11:00 PM. And beneath, in tiny letters, the words that ripped the air from my lungs:
Lake Como, Italy.
My stomach hollowed, fury clawing up my throat like fire.
“Lake Como?” I hissed, pacing in a frenzy, my hands clenching and unclenching. “No... no, no, it can’t be.”
But it was.
I was in Italy. Torn from New York. On my wedding day. On my birthday. On the day my life was buried alive.
The rage came fast and wild.
I snatched the clock, its metal casing icy against my palms, and hurled it to the ground.
The glass exploded with a sharp crack, red digits dying mid-blink. “Fuck you, Dmitri!” I screamed, the sound ripping out of me raw, scraping my throat.
I kicked the shattered pieces across the marble, sparks of satisfaction swallowed by despair.
I spun, my gaze latching onto a vase perched delicately on a gilded stand. A perfect piece of porcelain, mocking me. I seized it and smashed it against the floor, watching it splinter into a thousand glittering fragments. Shards of beauty turned to ruin—like me.
One by one, I destroyed what I could.
My chest heaved as I spat the words into the silence, “I’m going crazy!”
The walls threw my rage back at me, echo after echo, until I almost believed them.
Dmitri could kill me for wrecking his precious things. Or worse—enjoy punishing me.
My fury bled out into exhaustion. My knees buckled, and I collapsed into the velvet couch.
My heart thundered like it wanted to break free, my hands shaking as the adrenaline ebbed.
Tears burned their way down my cheeks, hot and unstoppable.
The world dimmed around the edges.
My eyes drifted shut despite my fight, my body surrendering to the exhaustion.
But the reprieve was brief.
A sound snapped me awake—a creak, subtle but deliberate.
My eyes flew open and my body went rigid.
