Page 27 of Ruined

I eat. I sleep. I bathe. I eat. I sleep again. I don’t know how many days it takes for the fog of incoherence to leave me to the point I start to feel more like my old self, but slowly and surely I do start to recover.

Angelo’s Sicilian roots are never more prominent than when he is feeding those he cares for. I am a stray brought in out of the cold and he is treating me like I matter.

I owe him my life. I know that to my core. If not for him I would have frozen or been assaulted or otherwise come to one of the many unpleasant ends society deems fit for lost souls who no longer fit into the required mold.

It also turns out I owe Bobby a very unexpected debt. That comes out after dinner one evening, where he sits down next to me and fixes me with that hollow stare of his.

“Are you still mental or what?” Bobby’s question is blunt.

“I’m…” I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Almost didn’t recognize you under that bridge. I was going to ice this guy and then I saw you, and I thought that looks like Riley, and it fucking was you. Thought you might be undercover, but then I smelled you…”

“Bobby,” Angelo says, his tone full of warning. Angelo has been protective of me when it comes to Bobby. Bobby is hard on everyone he meets, and in my delicate state he could easily destroy me. He is being careful, though, as careful as any psychotic can be. When I am around him, I feel like I’m in the presence of a large wild animal, a wolf or a bear, something that is clumsily trying to be careful with me but might snap me in half anyway.

Bobby’s head jerks up as he looks at Angelo. “Hey, I fucking found her. You lost her. All your fancy fuckin’ nerds couldn’t find her.”

“You were looking for me?” I am surprised. I did not realize that.

“We were keeping an eye on you, until you became itinerant, at which point you were difficult to find. We do owe Bobby credit for finding you.”

“Saving her fuckin’ life, you mean,” Bobby says with reluctant pride. “I don’t think I ever saved anyone’s life before.”

“You probably have not,” Angelo notes with amusement.

“I’m your hero,” Bobby informs me.

“You are,” I have to agree.

The agency abandoned me. My colleagues sent me a shitty card and then let my life fall apart. I ended up unemployed and homeless. That’s what loyalty to the federal government got me. On the other hand, I spent 72 hours with Angelo and Bobby, and they came for me when I needed them. Maybe it was only luck that they found me, but they did find me.

* * *

I am aware that Angelo’s home is not a place for waifs and strays. They have taken pity on me, but Angelo is still a calculated man and I am sure he has his reasons. I would prefer to be with someone who has a nefarious plan for me than work for an agency that declares me useless.

Angelo will take me broken. The rest of the world wants me to pretend that I am fine, and that nothing fundamental was taken from me with that stray bullet. We have not spoken about it, but I know he knows. I know they both know.

There is something about a broken woman that screams to the world, draws predators near, and makes shadows collapse around her. Angelo has shown me mercy, but that mercy will not last forever. Sooner or later, he will break me of my brokenness. He will send me to the very pits of hell, and he will elevate me above the world that rejected me. I see these promises in his eyes and I know my evolution is incomplete.

12

One day, it happens, not exactly as I thought it would, but precisely as it needs to.

Angelo taps my knee lightly. “Let’s go for a drive.”

I go with Angelo, because where he is concerned, the word no is no longer in my vocabulary. I follow him about like a puppy and find myself anxious if we are separated for too long.

He has indulged my need to be close. He is a cruel and demanding master at times, but he also has more understanding and care than most of the men I have known in my life. It is not possible for him to be as evil as he occasionally is without him also having the capacity for compassion.

“Can I come?”

“Not today, Bobby,” Angelo says. “Today is for Riley.”

I wonder where we are going. Some little voice in my head pipes up with the word ice cream, but I don’t think that is what is on the agenda.

Angelo has made sure I am well fed and comfortably clothed. I am wearing a very nice brown houndstooth skirt and a white blouse with a froofy sort of bow tie at my chin. My hair has been cut short due to the damage it sustained when I was running wild, as Angelo calls it, and sits neatly close to my head in a haircut reminiscent of Twiggy. Mascara and eyeliner highlight my eyes, and red lipstick makes my lips pop. When I catch a glimpse of myself in one of the house’s many mirrors, I see a sophisticated woman who shows no sign of the deprivations I have endured.

Angelo drives. I take the passenger seat, and together we spin off through the countryside in a very jolly sort of way. Sometimes, and indeed, more and more often, I forget about the mastermind criminal, ruthless vengeful monster side of Angelo. He does not often show it to his own, and certainly far less to me than to Bobby who often needs a reminder as to who is in charge.

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