Page 22 of Unholy Obsession

I feel the plush carpet beneath my feet and breathe in air that finallydoes not belong to the quarters where I've been imprisoned. I pause for a moment. Taking everything in.

“What is it, Lori?” Mariella asks, concern lacing her words.

“It’s just...” I stutter, struggling to find the words.

“Does Marco know about all of this? About the breakfast and coffee and roses? I don’t think he would be happy if—”

“To be quite frank, I could care less how my son feels about feeding you or keeping your room nice while he terrorizes your family. Let me worry about him, okay?” She pulls me further down the hallway which feels like it goes on forever.

Finally, we stop at the opposite end, a tall silhouette of a man standing outside of a door.

“Lorenzo, this is Lori, the girl you will be guarding. Please, introduce yourself,” Mariella says, the man’s head nodding in acknowledgement before he opens the door and lets us pass through.

So much for an introduction.

When we walk in, Mariella closes the door behind us. Immediately, I am blasted by the smell of flowers and coffee. For the first time in a while, I feel somewhat comfortable. I look around, the room a bit smaller than the other one, but the energy of it is much more comfortable. It has a large plush rug, deep red from what I can tell, which matches the linens on the large canopy bed sitting in the center of the room. As I walk further, I notice a fireplace in front of the bed. When I stare at it, Mariella speaks.

“It’s electric, so feel free to turn it on whenever you want. The walk-in closet is near the bathroom,” she says, walking to the coffee table near the window that has a couple chairs on either side, the sound of a metal tray being lifted.

I look to my left, the light of the adjacent bathroom shining through. Instead of exploring, I follow Mariella to the table and sit down. She hands me a cup of coffee and a plate, which smells absolutely amazing.

“I’m not sure how you take your coffee, but I suppose a little cream and a lump of sugar is fine?” she says and I laugh slightly.

“It’s perfect, thank you,” I say, sipping the coffee and sighing in happiness, but not peace. To be quite honest, I can’t feel peace. I know Marco has a temper and I fear he will be bursting through the door at any moment—shattering this new little heaven that Mariella has created for me.

“Eat,” she commands, and I do, mostly because my stomach is roaring.

As I start to slowly devour my plate, I realize that she’s right. This is the best frittata I’ve ever tasted. When I finish, I push the plate forward and cross my legs on the chair, slowly sipping my coffee in silence.

“Tell me what’s troubling you,” she says, drinking her own cup of coffee as she stares at me from across the table.

“I’m afraid he’s going to come in here and take me back to the old room,” I admit, knowing that lying to her would be pointless. She reads me like an open book, like a mother.

“I can assure you, that will not happen. I gave him my conditions and if he doesn’t follow them, there will be repercussions,” she says and I want her to elaborate.

I want to ask her what the conditions were and how in God’s name he agreed to them. I don’t know how much power Mariella holds, but apparently, it's a lot considering that she’s kept the monster at bay.

“Anyway, I had some dresses, undergarments and other clothes overnighted here. They’re all hanging in the closet. The bathroom is stocked with towels and toiletries. I also have the soaps organized for you to find in the shower. The shampoo is on the first shelf, followed by conditioner and body wash. If you would rather a bath, there is one in there as well,” she says softly, my heart pounding in my chest at her words.

“You... you did all of this for me? Why?” I ask, astounded by her kindness. She shrugs, as if the question is obsolete.

“Because you don’t deserve all that’s been happening to you. I know my son is... complicated, but give him time. It takes him a while to see things clearly,” she says, almost cryptically.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

She downs the rest of her coffee and stands, patting my shoulder.

“I mean just give things time. I don’t know what I can do to help your family, but all I can do is make you more comfortable while you’re here. Give things time, Lorena. That’s all any of us can do. The rest is up to God,” she kisses my hair before leaving the room.

I stare after her, her words settling inside of me like a storm.

Time? To what and whom should I give time? Marco? But why? The man just told me yesterday that my and my family are as good as dead. After he rejected me. After he basically called me a slut and a snake that only wanted to spread her legs in hopes of escaping, making me feel stupid and scared for throwing myself at him.

However, while I think of that, I also think of the man with the crooked glasses. I think of the boy she told me of, the boy who grew up too quickly. Perhaps there is a side to him that I’ve yet to unveil, a softer—more human side. Maybe she’s right. Maybe only time will tell.

I sigh and walk to the bed, sitting on the large canopy king as my fingers stretch across the velvet fabric of the spread. There are an abundant number of pillows and when I lean forward and smell them, I get a waft of vanilla and smile. I sit up, my hands moving to touch the sheet fabric that hangs from the canopy posts. I look around at the nightstands, spotting the fresh vase of roses that Mariella told me about. I smell them as well, the fresh scent tickling my nostrils in the most delicious way, transporting me back to those blissful moments in Central Park. I used to go early in the morning, walking with the elderly and listening to the birds as I breathed in the fresh air and floral aromas. For a brief moment, I am transferred to a happy memory from my past. I sigh as my hand returns to the bed, the feel of the velvet covering bringing me back to reality.

I get up and walk the room, wandering into the closet and feeling around. My hands touch cotton and denim before they land on silk and lace. When I feel that, I realize those are the dresses. They are colorful and almost like sundresses, the kind I loved to wear when I didn’t have to wear business clothes to work. I let a smile fill my face as I pull one down, a silky pink dress that stops at my knees as I hold it to my body. I undress from the pants and sweatshirt she gave me, leaving on the cotton underwear as I slide the silk sundress over my body, my hand smoothing down the fabric.

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