Chapter 2
EVERLEIGH
? Sixteen and a half years old. ?
I groan into the pillow on my bed as my alarm blares Twilight’s piano theme song.
Raising my head slightly, I steal a quick glance at the door, luckily it’s still closed.
Today is Mom’s funeral.
A week ago, I found her hanging from the ceiling fan in her bedroom. She hung loosely with one of my father’s expensive ties wrapped around her neck.
In my opinion, it was a big screw you to my father. The tie she looped around her neck was the same one he wore on their wedding day. I know because of the ceremony photo that sits atop of one of the shelves in the main sitting room.
She hated that man. Rightfully so.
He controlled every aspect of her life.
What she wore, said and cooked.
All was well as an Italian mob boss’s wife.
At least that’s how it looks for others on the outside. From the inside, it’s one of the worst fates you can be granted. No control over your own life.
She had no say in the way my two brothers and I were brought up. The only times that she could truly parent us was when my father was on a business trip. She’d take us all out for ice cream and a movie.. It felt normal.
Her tucking us into bed was always considered a special occasion and was not to be taken for granted. My brothers are both older than me and have witnessed a lot more than I have of what took place between my mom and father.
Marco is twenty and Viktor is twenty-three.
It’s great having big brothers. If I can’t take care of something myself, they’ll do it for me. They’ll complain afterwards, but still always follow through.
It was nice that they’d be around for moral support with Mom’s passing.
Marco isn’t much of an emotional person. He’s a little psycho every now and again and tends to keep to himself. But I know if someone ever tried to hurt me, he’d be the first in line to kick their ass.
Viktor is rough around the edges but in reality, he has a really big heart.
He seemed to take it the hardest when the news made its way to him about her death.
As much as I love how protective he’s become, that’s also why I was happy my door was still closed for once this week. He’s been checking in on me constantly.
Viktor has his own place, but he’s been staying in the house to keep me company and to also cautiously watch things.
I don’t know if he thought I might do the same thing she did.. Or maybe he was afraid of being alone himself.
We all grieve differently so you never know how someone will react in a situation like this.
I hadn’t found the time to cry. Not sure if I was still in shock, or maybe I wasn’t shocked at all.
She seemed pretty checked out for a long time. I think I knew for a while that she was acting odd and had changed. But I didn’t expect for her to go out in this way and definitely not this quickly.
“Everleigh, will you please shut that shit off?” Viktor yells from outside the door.
He was hating on Twilight. Shame on him.
“You got it.” I shoot back as I lean over and grab my cellphone, silencing the alarm.
I fight against the will to stay in bed and climb out from underneath the covers. It was time to shower and prepare for the memorial service.
While in the shower, under scolding hot water, memories involuntarily rushed into my head.
“Mom!”
I froze in the doorway, horror rooting me in place as her body swayed from the large ceiling fan in her and Father’s room.
“No. No. No.” The words ripped out of me as I sprinted toward her.
I swiftly moved the overturned chair upright and scrambled onto it with shaking legs.
My hands wrapped around her waist as I tried to lift her, to force her body up and out of the handmade noose.
I dragged her toward me, trying to line her feet up with the chair, trying to give her something, anything, to stand on.
She was small.
Similar to my size.
I didn’t understand why I couldn’t do this.
“Fuck!”
Tears blurred my vision as I kept straining, kept lifting, until the tie finally slipped free from beneath her chin.
As she came undone, her full weight gave out and crashed into me. I almost went down with her.
My legs buckled as I climbed off the chair, struggling to keep her from slipping through my arms.
I lowered her to the floor and dropped to my knees beside her, moving quickly to start CPR.
Tilting her head back, and pinching her nose I blew air into her mouth. Following it with pressing down on her chest.
Again and again and again.
I’d done it over and over on her so many times, I wasn’t sure how much time had passed.
My arms burned and shook from the continuous compressions.
When I finally made myself look at her face, my stomach coiled.
Her lips had turned a dark purple. How long had they been like that? Surely she hadn’t been in here that long before I decided to remind her about dinner.
But then I remembered. Mira had called to talk about our biology assignment. The call turned into a rant about her crush she had. How long had I waited?
I slid two trembling fingers to the side of her neck, searching for a pulse.
There was a moment I half-expected her to grab my wrist. Open her eyes. Something.
But she didn’t.
The bruising around her throat was already blooming, wrapped across the front of her neck.
That’s when I knew.
She was gone.
It took my father an hour to get home.
The only thing I remembered clearly was the paramedics pulling me away from her body.
I let them.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at her anymore, so I turned my head and looked at him instead.
He stood in the doorway of the bedroom.
No expression on his face. No grief, no anger.. Nothing.
I didn’t understand how someone could marry another person and feel nothing when they died.
The fact that he wasn’t on the floor, screaming over his loss, baffled me.
But I think, even then, I already knew the truth.
He never loved her.
She was only someone who created heirs for him. He had no other need for her.
To him, the house could be cleaned by anyone.
I could be watched by anyone.
Everything was replaceable.
Probably even us.
Even me.
Dante leaned into the doorway, his eyes finding mine instantly like they were already looking for me.
I bit down hard on my lip, fighting the sting behind my eyes before it could spill over. But it was completely useless.
I turned away instead, hoping that would block out the way his gaze softened something in me I didn’t want touched right then.
The viewing room is full of people that I don’t know. To tell the truth, I wasn’t sure my mom even knew any of them either when she was alive.
Marco never showed up and my father was too busy keeping people in his pocket to notice Viktor.
Viktor hovers above her casket, which is open for viewing. He’s standing in place with no movement. From where I stand, I don’t see any tears running down his face. He just looks paler than usual.
I let out a shaky exhale and take a few steps forward until I’m standing beside him. Now, I hover above her casket too.
“How are you doing?”
His eyes stay glued to her body. This image of her is now forever frozen in our memories.
She’s pale, but looks like she’s only asleep. The mortician’s makeup artist did wonders on her neck. You can’t see the bruising and indentation that formed as a result of the suicide.
In my case, this isn’t the worst thing that I have to remember. I’ve already lived through that when I tried using my body strength to push her up and out of the homemade noose.
“I’m not sure.” He responds quietly.
I instinctively lean over until my head is pressed against his upper arm. “We’ll be okay, V.”
He spontaneously turns and wraps his arms around me, encasing me in a tight hug.
His cries come out in quiet waves as he holds onto my body.
I rub his back in a steady, soothing motion, hoping it’s enough to comfort him.
It became clear today that I didn’t feel and experience things the way others do.
Was there something wrong with me?
Or had I just been wired that way by my robotic father?
I glance over Viktor’s shoulder as I continue comforting him, locking eyes with Dante who stands across the room with my father.
His dark gaze is unreadable to anyone else in the room. But it lands on me like he can see straight through my skin. Not in the way my father looks at people, measuring what they’re worth or what he can take from them.
Dante’s eyes hold mine with such knowing.
For a small moment, the room seems to fall away. No murmurs of apologies from the guests. No polished casket. Just the two of us seeing one another.
He doesn’t smile, and he doesn’t seem to look at me with pity.
He’s noticing what I noticed in myself moments before.
The way my soul falls flat as death looms around me. It didn’t squeeze or ache. It just simply existed.
Everyone dies. That was the way of life.
Especially in the type of lives we live.
But we’ve never had anyone die in our family. Not yet anyway.
When my mother did, it shifted something in me. It seemed to drown me of any remaining emotion I had left.
The funeral feels so dull. Instead of focusing on her death, all I can focus on is how beautiful he is in a moment like this.
Dark hair perfectly in place, except those usual small strands. His suit is pressed against his broad frame. There’s something about him that seems to calm me.
But if he’s such a calming presence, why does my chest tighten for reasons that have nothing to do with the grief that I’m meant to feel?
For the past few months, I’ve had the smallest crush on him. A pull I try my hardest not to notice. He’s four years older than me, which might as well be a lifetime, and he exists too close to my father’s world for that to ever mean anything anyway.
So I don’t let myself linger.
I break eye contact first, turning my face back into Viktor’s shoulder, focusing on the way his grip tightens as another quiet sob leaves him.
Whatever resonates between Dante and me can stay where it belongs. For now, at least.
Today, my brother needs me more.