Chapter 23
AIDA
There was a time I thought I could trust him, that he’d never be the source of my pain, but how wrong I was.
He swore I could always count on him, the one to protect me, but instead, he took the only mother I ever had, and murdered her before my very eyes.
My lashes flutter to a close, the tears staining my cheeks as I silently cry. Robby plays with some Legos on the floor, not realizing anything is wrong.
It’s only been a day. Why would he think her not being here would be cause for alarm? But she’s gone forever, and Matteo took her from us. My heart, it hurts so bad. It’s like he reached inside and ripped it out, the emptiness gnawing at the wound in my soul.
How could he do this? How could he betray the promise he made me? Instead, his deception was like a double-edged sword. He lied. He didn’t give me the mercy of death. Instead, he brought more hell right to my feet by taking her away.
“Do you think Ms. Greco will make brownies today?”
I choke on the cry strangled in my throat, his innocent question causing gut-wrenching pain. Robby stacks some more Legos, his belly on the floor, legs bent at the knees, thankfully not looking at me. “She told me we could bake them together,” he continues. “I really love her brownies.”
I bite into my inner cheek. I attempt like hell not to let him hear me cry, but he does anyway because my suffering is too insurmountable to contain.
His large blue eyes zap to me as he instantly sits up, a single block clacking to the floor. His brows bend. “What’s wrong, Aida?” He’s incredibly perceptive for a seven-year-old and there’s no way I’ll lie to him.
“There’s something we have to talk about, Robby. Something sad.”
“Did—did something happen to Ms. Greco?”
My chin trembles, and I slap a palm to the middle of my chest, my eyes leaking at the corners. “Yes.”
“Will—will she be okay?”
I shake my head, grabbing his hand. “I’m sorry, Robby. She had an accident…and she…she died,” I whisper, strangling out the words.
He gasps, his gaze awash with his own grief. “Does that mean she isn’t coming back?” His body shudders with a cry matching my own.
“That’s right,” I snivel. “She isn’t.”
With a weep, he climbs onto my lap, and together, we let each other feel the torment of losing someone we desperately loved.
I hadn’t intended to see him at all, not even to bring him food, but I have no choice.
Agnelo’s man only shows up once a day to empty his bucket and to let Matteo shower.
He won’t be here to bring him food three times a day like I have, and I still love him too much to let him starve, even after what he did.
But if I have to see him, it doesn’t mean we have to talk. But I need to get my feelings off my chest before they eat away at me. Once I speak my piece, I won’t have anything else to say. There’s no us anymore, not after this.
A heaviness encroaches into my legs as I climb down the stairs, my pulse quickening with anxiety, a bowl of rice and grilled chicken in hand.
He stands there, his eyes bloodshot, and my heart lurches.
Matteo.
It’s like my soul’s weeping. It’s as though I’ve lost him too. The need to jump into his arms and stay within them is overwhelming, but I fight it. My God, it’s hard to do.
“Aida, fuck! I thought something happened to you!” He runs to me but I move back, and the chain, it keeps him an inch away.
“Don’t do that.” His brows furrow, his eyes glistening.
His breaths beat heavy as he pulls his hand to mine, the chain clanking as he fights like hell to touch me.
I bite down so hard to keep myself from falling to a place where I could forgive him.
But every single time I see her body fall, the blood… Nausea turns in my stomach.
“Please, talk to me,” he pleads, his gaze drowning in regret. “I’ve been dying to tell you how sorry I am. But I had no fucking choice!”
“No choice? How dare you! You had a choice and you made it!” I take in a calming breath, trying to still the nerves ravaging inside me. “I told you what I wanted, but you chose to murder her instead.”
“You know I could never be the one to kill you. I loved her too.” He sighs, defeated. “But she knew you couldn’t be the one to go.”
“Why not? Hmm? I wanted to die! You think I want to go through what Agnelo put me through again and again? I asked you to save me from it and you…” My eyes slam shut and I take a shaky inhale. “You chose to keep me alive because you’re selfish.”
“Aida…” My name is a strangled cry. “Please, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t kill you.” His fist slams into his chest. “I love you too damn much to be the one to end your life. You would’ve done the same thing.”
I remain silent, sniffling back the pang of anguish beating through me.
Could I be the one to put a bullet in him?
Maybe I could do it if his suffering was great enough, but I don’t know.
Maybe it’s unfair for me to feel this much disdain for what he did.
Would I have chosen him over her? How could I possibly even imagine making that decision?
But how could I fault him for it either? Is it even fair?
I can barely think. I need time. There’s too much racing through my head. “I’ll bring you food, but you and I have nothing else to talk about. You took the only parent Robby and I had and you left me to suffer in the wake of it.”
“I’ll die without you loving me, Aida. Don’t fucking do this!” he pleads with turmoil twisting his face.
With an ache creeping up my throat, I stare into his shattered gaze, my heart breaking with it. “I didn’t do a thing.” I drop the food gently on the floor beside him. “You did.”
I walk away, and a piece of me dies as he screams my name, over and over until I hear it in my dreams.
MATTEO - AGE 23
THREE WEEKS LATER
For three weeks, she’s ignored me. Twenty-one days without a word from her lips, and I’ve counted, every damn day.
I’ve tried to get her to open up, and I’ve seen the fight on her face, wanting to talk to me, but she leaves as quickly as she comes.
How could she think I could hurt her, be the one on the other side of the bullet aimed for her? There’s not an eternity where I’d be the one to kill her. Maybe she was right—I’m cruel for letting her live to endure the shit Agnelo puts her through, but even still, I couldn’t do it.
Maybe I was selfish, but maybe I just love her too much to let her go. My world and hers has been connected from the moment we met and I’m not ready to severe the ties that’ve kept us tethered.
She’s the only person I remember loving.
Sure, I still remember my father, my brothers, but their love is distant now, blurred over time.
My feelings for her are fresh, the passion in me for her still raw, still full of the future I fight not to give up on.
But it seems she’s given up on us already.
And somehow, I still wish she’d come back to me, that somehow, I can find her again.
Ms. Greco appears to me a lot in my dreams, and in them, she holds my hand, her face bright, angelic as she smiles, telling me it’s okay.
I’m sure it’s not her, but it brings me some comfort to know that even in death, she has forgiven my actions.
She loved Aida. Of course she understood why I did it, but still it’s hard to accept she’s gone and that I’m the one who killed her.
Someone kicks me in the stomach, and I fall backward with a growl. This is why you don’t let shit distract you when you’re in the middle of fighting two guys off. Rearing back, I run at him, throwing a kick in the air that lands straight into his jaw.
“Ahh!” he screams, landing on the floor in the warehouse, as I throw punch after punch into his face, the rage filling me, tempting the beast I’ve become. But there’s nothing holding me back, is there?
She’s gone.
When the fight leaves him, I slice the knife across his neck, running after the other man, who only makes it to the corner.
There’s nowhere to run. No place to hide. There are six of Bianchi’s men in this shithole. They’ve come here for a show. They expect a worthy fucking performance, so I give it to them.
The handle of the knife digs into my palm as I ready to puncture the throat of the man begging for my mercy.
“Kill him! Now!” Drew stresses.
My feet trudge closer until I’m right in front of the guy’s face. The kick across his calf comes quick, and he drops to the floor with a loud thump. I settle over him and he grows rigid, his body readying to die, his eyes round and full of fear.
There’s something about killing someone when they stare at you. It’s worse. It’s haunting. I see them sometimes, all the people I’ve killed. I can picture their faces. The way they stared at me. Their voices as they begged.
And when I remember them, fuck, the emotions in the pit of my stomach gnaw, reminding me what a bastard I am. But was there ever a choice? I was bound to become a monster. That’s what they’ve always wanted.
With Aida by my side, I was a little more human, a little more accepted, but now that she’s stopped seeing me the way she once did, I don’t know what I have to live for anymore.
“Please, man,” the guy no older than me pleads. “I don’t wanna die. I did nothin’.”
I lift the knife in the air, right above him. “Neither did I.” I let the blade slide all the way into his neck, blood spurting out, coating my hand, drops landing on my face.
It doesn’t take him long to die, and once he does, I get to my feet, wiping the result of my sin from my cheek. The knife drops beside him, and two men take the body away.
This place holds so many ghosts, I wonder if they haunt it.
Will I die here too?