Chapter 11 #2
In his bedroom, she screams. He has her there, and I can’t do a thing about it.
I wish I could stuff my ears and stop hearing it, but I can’t.
I refuse to. I should listen. I should hear her suffering.
It’s all my fault. Wanting to do something nice for Matteo has caused her pain—the only other person who’s ever given a damn about me.
My father’s room is right next to mine. I can hear every grunt, every cry. My insides curl and I’m ready to vomit, snatching the small garbage pail from the corner of my room and hurling into it.
Grabbing a pillow, I lower it over my face, wailing into it, my entire body shaking as I do. The small cut on my cheek throbs, but I ignore it, unable to stop from shattering.
If there was a gun in my room right now, I’d rush right into my father’s bedroom and shoot him dead. I continue to sob as she does too.
The door next to mine creaks open, then slams shut. Heavy footsteps crash across the floor, the stairs squeaking as someone goes down them. When the front door bangs shut, I know he’s finally gone.
I sit up, wanting to run in to see Ms. Greco, to make sure she’s okay, but I’m afraid. What if he comes back? What if she doesn’t want to see me after what he did to her?
A wave of nausea impales me again, but I manage to keep it down this time. How could he do that to her? To anyone? Why do I still wonder? How could my mom ever love him? Why would she have a baby with someone so awful? I don’t doubt he treated her badly too.
Maybe she got the easier end of the deal. She’s gone, not having to deal with his cruelty, while I’m here, endlessly tormented, wondering when it’ll all stop.
Minutes trickle by, until a whole thirty minutes have passed. I’ve been tracking it on the clock on my wall. There’s a soft knock on my door and I instantly jump off my bed, knowing it’s her.
My hand on the doorknob, I pull it open. When I see her, my bottom lip trembles, and hers does too. Mascara runs down from her lower lashes, past her cheeks, her eyes glossy, her hair matted. Instantly, my arms come around her, and I hug her tightly to me as she cries.
MATTEO
“Aida!” I shout, pulling at my chain, trying to get it off the radiator as it cuts into my skin, wanting to run to her.
To save her. He’s hurting her, while I’m here, unable to do a damn thing about it.
Her desperate cries penetrate through the ceiling as something heavy shatters on the ground…
and the way Ms. Greco screams for him to stop…
My hands ball into tight fists, my lungs heaving, begging for air.
“Aida! I’m here!” I growl in frustration, knowing if the chain was off, he’d be dead. I’d kill him and not even blink. It’s who they taught me to be. End lives without feeling. Without thinking. And he’d be my easiest kill. I just need thirty seconds. Then it’d be over.
He tells them to clean the mess, then it’s silent. But the quiet doesn’t last long. When he returns, so does his yelling.
“You missed a fucking spot!” His voice is like a hammer built for destruction. Ms. Greco screams as Aida begs him to let the woman go. I yank at the chain with a roar, my skin ripping, drops of blood slipping down to my feet.
“No!” Aida shouts with a deafening cry and my heart slices in two. She sobs as footsteps stomp further away until they’re distant. Until she’s alone. Until all I hear is her pain until she’s gone too.
I don’t know how long I remain down here, anger swirling inside me, pacing back and forth in front of the mattress because that’s as far as I can go.
After some time, my door opens. At first, I think it’s him, coming to give me a piece of what he gave them. I dare him. I’d rip his goddamn throat out with my teeth.
“Aida?” I ask, as someone gently climbs down the stairs.
“It’s me.” She sounds so small. Like a bird with her wings clipped, like the sun darkened by the rainy sky.
Her face lowers once she’s before me, and when she looks up, my eyes zap to the cut on her cheek.
“He did that?” My exhale howls out of me. “He hurt you?”
“Don’t,” she cries, those warm, golden eyes that radiate with the glow of the stars, now clouded with darkness. “I can’t stay long, but I couldn’t not come and wish you a belated happy birthday. Again.” She sniffles, avoiding my gaze. “I really tried to make it special. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, come here.” I reach a hand for her, my brows tightening with my own bout of sadness. “What happened?”
“I had Ms. Greco make you a cupcake. But he found out and…” Her chin trembles. “I’m sorry I ruined your birthday.” Large tears slip past her eyes, sloping down her cheeks as she lets out a single sob, punching me in the chest.
“No, Aida, don’t cry.” My arms are around her, holding her close, knowing I can’t keep him away. The only thing I can do is do whatever he says so that he doesn’t send her to the club or kill her.
“I don’t care about my birthday.” I pitch my face back to look at her. “I only care about you, okay? Don’t do anything else to piss him off.”
“So I guess I shouldn’t have brought down your birthday present?” She swipes across her lashes as a tiny, pained smile curls over the corner of her mouth.
“Aida…” I slant my face. “You shouldn’t have gotten me anything. I just like spending time with you. That’s all.”
“I know, but I wanted you to have this. He can hurt me all he wants for this. I don’t care.”
“But I do.” I grasp her shoulder, locking her in a stare. “I will die before I let that happen.”
“Well, if you die…” Her voice goes faint, fresh tears pooling in her gaze. “I’d really have no one at all.”
I pull in a long breath, rage filling me. Every time she cries, I get the urge to murder her father.
She reaches under her shirt, confusing me, until she removes a notebook and a box of pencils.
“Whoa. This is great,” I say as soon as I see them.
“Yeah?” Even through the hurt, she still manages to smile, to make me do it too.
“You kidding?” I take it from her. “You know drawing is my thing. Now, I’ve got a lot more to draw you on.” The corner of my mouth tilts up.
She sighs brokenly. “Make sure you hide them well.”
I grab hold of her hand just as she gets set to go. “I will. Promise.” Her eyes fall to mine and that familiar flip in my stomach hits me hard.
“Could I kiss you?” I ask in a breathy tone, afraid the world will somehow slip beneath our feet and I’ll never get another chance.
She holds my cheek in the softness of her palm. “You can always do that, Matteo.”
So I do.
For as long as she lets me.