Chapter 7
That boy I met so long ago is gone. He’s older than he seems. Colder. Harsher. It’s as though my father sucked out all the joy he once possessed.
We’re still close. And he’s still here. In the basement. Chained. Locked away from the world.
We still spend every single day together. My father somehow lets me. I don’t question it. I take it as a gift, one of the few he’s given me. Except it’s not really a gift, now, is it?
It’s suffering and pain wrapped in a pretty bow. Because in my gaining a friend, he’s suffered. Horribly.
They’ve beaten him countless times, so badly once, the doctor thought his ribs were broken. Those are the only times they’ve allowed him to rest.
The other days, they take him, and there’s blood when he returns. On his face. His hands. Sometimes even his clothes. Sometimes there’s a little, and other times there’s so much. He won’t talk about it, the stuff they make him do. But I don’t have to hear it to know it’s bad.
Yet, no matter what they do to him, I can still see shreds of that little boy I care so much about. They haven’t managed to rip him away from me completely. I don’t think they can, though they try with all their might.
My friend. That’s what he is. The only one I have. I can’t lose him. He can’t die. But every single day they drag him away, I’m afraid that’ll be the day he doesn’t come back.
He hates for me to see him hurt. Whether it’s his cut-up knuckles or the bruises on his face, he tries to hide it all. But that’s not something a person can hide. He’ll tell me to go, that he’s tired, but I know what he’s trying to do.
I wait for him to come out of the shower, sitting on the bed.
Louis, the man who still watches the house during the day, stares at me, leaning against the wall, waiting to chain Matteo back up.
Why can’t my stupid father just lock the damn room and let him move around like a person?
He can only walk right past the mattress and to the corner of the room.
The door clicks open, and Matteo comes out, his hair still damp. He’s fully dressed.
“Finally.” Louis huffs like he had to wait longer than the damn five minutes it took.
“Let’s go.” He grabs Matteo, who shoves his hand away with a snarl.
“You fucking do that again and I’ll cut your arm off,” Louis warns and Matteo grits his teeth in response, glaring hard as he’s yanked to the bed, the chain enveloping his wrist.
“Your father said to come right up in five minutes. Don’t piss him off.”
“Mm-hmm.” I roll my eyes in annoyance. “Bye, now.” I shoo him away with a hand, popping my brows as I sit next to Matteo on the mattress.
He bites down while eyeing us cruelly, cursing as he heads for the stairs. Once the door shuts, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I hate these people—my father, my uncles, their men. Why can’t something bad happen to all of them so Matteo and I could run away like we planned to when we first met.
“Why do you still want to be my friend?” Matteo asks, staring at his own hands while playing with his fingers.
I jerk back. “What kind of silly question is that?”
“A serious one.” He drags in a long inhale, finally looking at me. “I’m not a good person, Aida.”
“Bullshit. You may have forgotten, but we’re friends forever. Remember? Friends don’t give up on each other.”
He peers down onto the floor.
“Why don’t you talk to me?” I whisper right into his ear so no one hears. “Why can’t you tell me what’s been going on? Maybe I can help.”
His head shakes sadly as he pitches back with a mournful stare. “You can’t. If you wanna help, then run, Aida. Leave this place when no one’s looking, or you’ll never get out.”
I scoff. “Even if I could, I’m not leaving you. Ever. You’re stuck with me.” I shrug. “We either go together or I don’t go at all.”
His hand lands over mine, holding on tight. “You have to think about yourself.”
“I’m sorry.” I look him hard in the eyes. “I can’t do that.”
“I’m sorry too.” His face turns into a frown.
“Aida,” Ms. Greco calls. “Come on up, we have homework.”
“Ugh!” I groan.
“Go.” He gazes onto his lap as I reluctantly get to my feet.
“I’ll come back, okay?” I incline my head, angling it toward him, hoping to catch his eyes. He finally glances up. “We’ll study together later, once my father leaves.”
“Yeah, okay.” He sighs. “I’m gonna sleep for a bit though.” He begins to lower onto the bed, giving me his back like I’m disturbing him.
My heart clenches and my palms fall against my chest. My poor Matteo. Why did you ever have to end up here? I’d give it all away—knowing you, loving you—just so you never have to suffer.
I whirl toward the stairs, running up before I start to cry, making it to the kitchen just as the first quiet sob rips through me. Sliding down onto the floor against the kitchen island, my palms covering my face, my body trembles while I break with the force of my emotions.
Why am I such a loser? Why can’t I help my friend? Why am I afraid of him—my horror of a father? I should kill him in his sleep. I want to. I could. Maybe. Ugh! No. No, I can’t. I’m not a killer. But maybe I should be.
Footsteps creep closer, but I don’t have the energy to discover who it is. “Aida?” Ms. Greco’s concern spills from her voice. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“Everything! I wish I was never born,” I cry lowly, swiping my palms over my eyes as I peek up at her. “How could you not help Matteo? Why can’t you do something? I’m just a kid, but you’re an adult.”
“Shh. Your father will hear you,” she whispers, looking around before dropping beside me. “You think I don’t want to? You think seeing that poor boy down there year after year doesn’t kill me every time I walk into this house?”
“Then why?” I demand. “Why haven’t you done something?”
“Because…” She shuts her eyes. “You’re still a baby. I shouldn’t even say a thing.”
“I’m thirteen. I’m not a child. I know my father isn’t good. But I want to know why you don’t help. Because you, Ms. Greco, you’re good.” My brows dip as our gazes align.
She lets out a defeated breath, wandering straight ahead as she starts.
“I have a sister. She’s about ten years younger, and when she was really little, my parents borrowed a lot of money from your uncle Faro to get her a kidney.
They couldn’t pay him back. Not all of it.
So Faro killed my father, and as a way to earn what we owe, he’s enslaved me to work for his family in whatever way they need.
Over the years, I have been through hell, living through the most horrific things.
” She tilts her head with a glance at me.
“Being here with you is the best job they’ve given me so far.
If I do anything, like report this, they’ll kill my sister and my mom.
” She tugs my hand over her lap and squeezes, her brows tugging tightly.
“I’m sorry, Aida. I’d help if it were just my life on the line, but—”
“I get it now.” I nod, my voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I doubted you.” The tears trace down my cheeks.
“You never have anything to be sorry about.” She looks tenderly at me. “You’re nothing like him and thank goodness for that.”
MATTEO - AGE 13
“Again!” Stan shouts over my shoulder as I pummel fist after fist at the man lying under me, his nose cracked, his eye swollen, but I don’t stop. I don’t know how to. It’s what I’ve done these past years. What they’ve wanted me to do.
“Harder! Show me what you’re worth!”
I roar, as another punch lands over the man’s cheek, picturing Aida being hurt, them doing stuff to her.
I’ll never let them hurt you. Never, I growl to myself, as I almost kill the man who’s no longer defending himself. Not that he had much left in him after they brought him here. I’ve never killed a person yet, but I’ve done other things.
Thanks to Stan and Drew, I’ve not only killed animals, but I learned how to fight. To hurt people well enough to make them cooperate, which means do whatever the Bianchi assholes want.
After the bunny they had me murder, they moved me to cats and dogs. Now, I hurt people. But I’d do anything for her. Anything at all. Even kill.
And they all know it.
“Whoa, kid.” Stan wraps an arm around my chest from behind, pulling me back. “Didn’t say to ax him yet. You can relax now.”
“Is he dead?” I breathe heavy, my chest burning as I try to calm my inhales.
The man groans, as though answering my question. I didn’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t have a choice.
Stan rises over the man. “You better have that money you owe us or else we’re coming after your kid next. And my friend right here”—he pats my head even though I’m almost as tall as him—“will do far worse to your boy than he did to you.”
The guy cries as two others drag him away.
“You ready for your next job?” Stan asks.
Sure, if that involves breaking your nose.
“Yeah.” My reply is calm.
“Bring him out,” he tells someone else. A man appears, yanked by his shirt. His sneakers drag across the floor as he mutters with a sob, his mouth covered with black tape, his hands tied up behind him. He fights the hand that holds him, his eyes bulging once he’s next to us.
He’s probably the same age as the other guy I just hurt. They’re all usually older. My knuckles throb. I don’t think I can handle giving another beating, but I’d never complain. Not if they’ll hurt Aida as punishment.
“The big boss is here for this,” Stan warns. “So you make us proud.” That’s when more footsteps pummel, until they get nearer, until their faces are clear as day. Faro and Agnelo stand beside each other, staring into me with an empty look in their eyes.
The man groans and fights as he’s taken to a chair and pushed on top of it. But as I come at him, readying a fist, Agnelo laughs.
“No, kid. This time”—he reaches into his coat pocket and whips out a pistol—“you’re going to blow his fucking brains out.”
I jerk back, my lungs rattling with heavy breathing, my stomach winding with knots. “I can’t do that.” I keep retreating, step after step, until someone grabs me from the back and holds me down.
“What the fuck did I tell you?” Stan barks in my ear. “You fucking do this and do this well or you know what they’ll do to your precious girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” I glare back, grinding my teeth as I look straight at him.
These people, I want to kill them all instead.
I want to take Aida and run away with her.
But I can’t, and she’ll never go anywhere without me.
She’s made that clear. So we’re stuck here, in this world where I’m forced to do the most awful things, not for me, but for her, the one person I have left in this world to protect.
That girl is the only one who still makes my heart feel happiness.
I don’t know how not to be when she’s around.
Even when I push her away, even when I want to hide the evidence of what her family makes me do, still, I want her around.
She’s a part of me I can’t let go of, and I’ll protect her always. Because no one else does.
“Take the fucking gun,” Agnelo shouts as he walks up to me, pressing the barrel of the weapon into my throat while Faro watches from behind him.
“You’ll do what we fucking tell you. It’s the only damn reason you’re not working the club.
You remember it, right?” His upper lip curls. “The place I showed you?”
I refuse to answer. Just thinking about that disgusting place makes my heart race. The sick things those people were doing with each other, to the kids.
“Answer me, boy!” He slaps me hard, my head whipping to the side. “Not only will I send you there for being a shit…” His hand curls around my jaw, the gun digging into my neck. “But I’m going to send Aida there too.”
“No!” I pant, shaking my head over and over until my neck hurts. “Don’t do that to her.”
“Then you pick up this gun”—he pulls it away and stretches it out for me—“and kill that scumbag.”
“Wha—what did he do?” Maybe if he’s bad like them, I can do this.
Faro chuckles. “You work for us. You don’t fucking ask questions.
” He steps up to me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking hard.
“It doesn’t matter what he did. Hell, we could’ve picked him up off the street and you’ll still have to kill him.
You have no alternative. You either kill for us or we send you and Aida to work the club.
It’s your choice.” He drops his hand away, returning to where he first stood.
My shoulders tremble with loud exhales as I take a peek at the man I have to kill. He stares at me, his eyes pleading, his head jerking, the chair rattling as he tries to run, his muttering getting louder.
My mind instantly goes to Aida—that long golden hair, that smile, which always lights up the room, erasing every awful thing I’ve done and will have to do. For her. And without another single thought, I take the pistol from Agnelo, line it to the man’s forehead, and…
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I pull the trigger, the rip of the bullet piercing the air.
Instantly, his face falls forward.
He’s dead. I did that. I killed a person.
An arm drapes around my back, a hand falling over my shoulder, but my eyes are glued to the dead guy.
“You never apologize,” Agnelo says. “You kill without hesitation. Without an ounce of regret.”
I glance over to find him glowering at me, the fury in his eyes forcing me to swallow down my fear.
“If you ever apologize again, I’ll fucking kill her. Then, I’ll kill you.”