Chapter 19
AIDA
The warm air billows around me, and I look down at myself, barefoot, a long white dress fluttering at my ankles. The grass is cool, the dew has long set in. I move slow, not sure where I’m going, but it’s as though my feet do.
She’s there if I keep walking. I just know it.
Suddenly the clear blue sky is replaced by a storm rolling in. Darkness glides across, thunder booming from every side of me.
“Hello?” I shout. “Are you here?”
There’s no answer except the heavy raindrops now falling to a chorus of its making. Running away from it, I try to seek shelter, but the trees are bare and listless.
“Is anyone here?” I call. “Please, I need help!”
The grass is muddy now. I keep running and stumble on a small pebble, falling to my knees. Blood trickles out, washed away a second later by the rain dripping down my soppy body, trickling from the ends of my hair, the dress now sticking to my skin.
Thunder strikes hard and I jump back, my heart racing. It’s there in the clearing, a light from what looks like a cottage.
With renewed courage, I go faster, knowing that’s my only safety in this cruel world. I’m alone. There’s not a soul here, except in that house. If there’s a light, there’s life, and I have to find it. Almost there, the house grows larger in my view.
My lungs ache but I fight it. Thunder tumbles with laughter and I fear it with a tremor running down my spine.
The house is finally there and I don’t knock as I push the door open. Whoever lives here must’ve known to leave it unlocked for me.
With my breathing labored, I step inside, shutting the door, my palms against it, trying to catch my breaths.
“I thought you’d never come,” a woman says from behind me, and every hair on my arms stands up, my heartbeats roaring loud enough to outshine the rumbling of the storm.
Slowly, I turn, facing her—the blonde woman, the one from my dreams.
Am I dreaming now? Is that where I am?
“Who are you?” I tremble.
“You know who I am, Aida. You’ve always known.” She takes a step toward me, her dress matching mine. No, not matching, it’s exactly the same.
I swallow down the panic in my throat, my pulse thrumming in my neck.
“No, I’ve no idea who you are. Just tell me. Please.”
“Remember.” She’s closer now, her hand reaching, and mine goes to her.
“Remember me.” When she touches my fingertips, I jolt, my eyes rolling into the back of my head, my body trembling as I grow dizzy.
Falling.
Drifting.
I drop to the floor, and I find her there when I close my eyes, but she looks different this time. I can see her beside a child whose hair is blonde.
Like mine.
As I look around, I realize I’m somewhere else entirely, no longer in the cottage.
“Mommy? When can we go home?” the child asks, walking around. And the room…
“Oh God,” I breathe, clasping a hand over my mouth when I realize where I am. The very basement that’s been Matteo’s home. The little girl wanders across the bare floor, nothing here at all, except a mattress. An eerie feeling creeps up my back.
“Hello?” I call. “Can you see me?”
But they ignore my voice as though I’m not there at all.
“Shhh!” the woman cries. “Please, baby. Stay next to me and be quiet.” When she lifts up her arm, I hold my breath, because her wrist is chained up just like his.
“Will he come back?” the girl asks, wide-eyed.
“Yes, so you have to always stay with me. You hear? Never go with him, even when I’m not here.”
“But what if he makes me, Mommy?”
The woman sobs. “Aida, listen to me, you…”
What did she…? No! I break into a shiver, panting, not hearing the rest of what she said. This is all wrong… N-no.
“Mommy!” The girl runs to her mother and falls into her lap, arms clasped around the woman, and on her small face there’s fear. Too much of it. “He’s coming. The door—it’s…it’s opening.”
Heavy footsteps crash down, and when he appears, I stumble backward, my eyes gaping, my chest clattering, inhales and exhales fighting within me.
Because the man is none other than my father.
Why would he do this to us?
“Please, don’t hurt her,” the woman chokes out. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“You don’t make the rules no matter how good your pussy is.” He chuckles. “Now get up. You gotta get some work done.”
She stands up willingly, clutching the girl in her arms, kissing her hand before kneeling down.
“I love you so much, baby girl. You don’t ever forget it, okay?”
“I love you, Mommy. Please come back. Pinky swear!” The girl sobs. “I don’t like being alone down here.”
“I know you don’t. Pinky swear.” The woman holds out her finger and the girl hooks hers through it. “I’ll do all that I can to come back soon.”
My father takes the chain off her wrist and drags her out, and my eyes can’t stop staring, the tears I didn’t know were there, drifting down my cheeks.
Once our mother is gone, the girl sits alone on the mattress, her knees tucked up to her chin, her arms around them. She rocks slowly as I trek toward her—toward me. That’s when I fully realize…that’s me. That—that was my mom.
My stomach whirls. Nothing makes sense.
So he lied. Mom never died in childbirth. So where is she? Why would my father keep us in the basement? Did he kill her? Where else would she be?
“Mommy,” the little girl whimpers. “I need you. I’m scared.”
“Hey,” I call, my hands quaking, new tears beginning to fall down my cheeks as I make it in front of her. “You’ll be okay. I know you’re scared. I am too. But you’ll find people who love you. I promise.”
Gradually, she lifts her head, swiping under both eyes and that’s when she looks at me as though she sees me. Her brows scrunch as she fits me with a measured stare. “We’ll never be okay.”
I jump up to a seated position, my body rocking, sweat beading on my forehead, my breathing rough as I stare around the room. “What the…” With a palm against my chest, my heart pounds.
The basement. I was in it. With…with my mom? That pinky swear. “Oh God…” I whimper. Is that where I learned it? From her?
Nothing makes sense.
Why would we be there at all? Did he keep us locked away for shits and giggles, just because he could?
I looked maybe four? I have to find out what the hell is going on, if what I saw is even real. Maybe Ms. Greco knows.
I hurry off the bed, realizing my nap took longer than I wanted it to.
I’m supposed to cook lunch for Matteo and me today, kind of like our own date.
I even planned to bring down an old CD player I got for my birthday from Ms. Greco.
Food and music, that’s how people do dates in the real world, right?
At least that’s what my cousins have told me.
I don’t care if my father finds out. He can fuck right off. Hopefully, he won’t be here for that. He left about twenty minutes ago, not saying a word, not even looking at me.
I haven’t been sent to the club since that day months ago, and a part of me hopes that maybe my father felt sorry for me. That somewhere in his withered heart is a place for a daughter, even if he kept her and her mother trapped in the basement.
I wonder if he ever thinks about what he did to me—having men rape me so he could get paid for it. Does he feel any bit of remorse? I doubt it. He doesn’t have an ounce of a soul and I don’t know why I still think he’s redeemable. I wonder where it went and when? I don’t think I ever saw it.
Do my uncles know what happened to me? Do my cousins have to do this too? I hope not. I don’t want that for them. For anyone.
I head down the stairs and right into the kitchen where Robby is busy eating meatballs while Ms. Greco cleans up.
“Aida? You okay?” She looks questioningly at me.
“No. I—” My eyes peek at Robby, but he’s not paying attention to me. “I had a dream or a nightmare. I don’t…” I run a hand down my face as I pace away. “Did you ever see me in the basement when I was little?”
“What do you mean?” She narrows a stare.
I let out a nervous laugh. “It’s probably crazy, but ahh…
” I pause in front of her. “I had a dream about a woman, a blonde woman who looked like me and she gave me this memory of when I was small, maybe Robby’s age.
I was locked in the basement here, with her.
My father was there and he took her away. Then I woke up.”
Her eyes widen.
“It’s dumb, I know.” My lips tremble with a reluctant smile.
“You poor thing.” Her chin quivers. “That must’ve been awful. Let me um—let me get you a glass of water.” She turns from me, her steps hesitant before she heads off to grab a cup from a cabinet, pouring some water into it from the fridge.
She takes her time getting back to me, completely avoiding my gaze until she returns.
I take the cup from her outstretched hand. “You didn’t answer my question. Did you ever see me locked in the basement?”
“I don’t—”
“More!” Robby yells over her. “Please, give me more.”
“Sure, sweetie!” Ms. Greco rushes to the stove, grabbing the pot and bringing it over to the table, adding some more meatballs onto his plate.
“Are you going to start on that lasagna for Matteo and you?” she asks me.
“Yeah, I should.” I shake my head, realizing how ridiculous I’m being.
Of course I wasn’t locked up in the basement with my mom.
That would really be crazy. I’m sure I’m projecting with everything that Matteo and I have been through and how badly my dad has been to me. It’s no wonder I’m having crazy dreams.
Rolling up my sleeves, I go to the cupboards, grabbing the pasta, then head for the fridge and snatch the rest of the ingredients.
“You need any help?” Ms. Greco appears beside me. “I can mix the sauce for you.”
“No, that’s okay. I want him to know I made it from scratch.” I smile at her with a turn of my head. “I hope he likes it. He once said his mom would make the best lasagna.”
“You’re so kind, making him things that remind him of his family.”
My shoulders sway with a heavy sigh. “It’s the least I can do after what my father has done to him.”