CHAPTER VI
I was cold.
I shivered not just from the temperature but from the fear that had become my constant companion.
Nausea wracked my stomach.
The guards on their rotating shifts only served to heighten our anxiety.
We survived on a bowl of rice served each day, which was barely enough to sustain us.
Each day felt like a battle against my weakening body, and my clothes now hung loosely on my frame.
Even the blankets failed to provide comfort against the relentless chill.
My cellmate and I had become each other’s solace in this darkness. The walls around us seemed impenetrable, with no obvious means of escape. I’d searched for any sign of hope, but there was no way to Shawshank our asses out of here. I would rather die than spend another minute in this hell.
A loud noise from the end of the hall startled me out of my thoughts. Heavy footsteps echoed, accompanied by the sound of labored breathing. I didn’t recognize the figure who came into view. He had short, salt-and-pepper hair and a well-groomed goatee.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“You can call me the Puppet Master,” he responded, and my eyes were drawn to the jagged, crimson line that carved a path from his left cheek to his jaw.
His gaze flicked around the room, then back to me. “How do you find your accommodations?”
I looked at him with contempt.
“Great,” I retorted sarcastically.
I watched him carefully while he assessed me like I was some freaking lab rat.
“My God, you look just like your mother,” he said in an eerily calm tone. “And your grandfather.”
A chill spread through my veins. Grandfather?
“What did you say?” the woman whispered, her eyes widening.
Ignoring her, he watched me intently and grinned like a Chesire cat, revealing his teeth. “Your mother was Giuseppe’s daughter. Shame what happened to her and your stepfather.” He clicked his tongue. “But betrayal does have consequences.”
Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes at the nonchalant way he referenced my parents’ death. “You killed my mother?” I whispered.
The woman beside me began to weep.
“Stop crying!” he shouted, and she immediately stopped.
Without a hint of remorse, he turned to me and confirmed, “Yes. Your grandfather’s original plan didn’t work, so I took matters into my own hands. Now that’s the essence of true kingship. Your grandfather didn’t deserve to bear the crown.”
“What does this have to do with me?” I said softly. “I’ve done nothing.”
“Your existence is your crime.” He lowered himself until we were at eye level, locking his gaze onto mine through the bars that separated us.
“I can’t decide yet if I want to kill you now, make you suffer for your mother’s sins, or sell you to the next highest bidder.”
My throat closed up, and the acrid smell of the bile threatened to overwhelm me as I fought to keep it down.
He rose to his feet and began to move away before speaking again. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I have a gift for you.”
He said something in Italian to someone further down the hallway, and the door swung open.
I heard chains clanking against the floor and the muffled sounds of someone in distress.
As the figure came into view, I finally summoned my strength, leaped up, ignoring the burning sensation through my body, and grasped the cold bars.
Oh, my God.
“Uncle Malik?” I called out with relief that he was still alive and with heartache at the sight of his current condition.
His clothing resembled a prison uniform, and he shuffled forward barefoot.
He was filthy from top to bottom, and his beard now hung in disarray, tangled and unkempt.
He had lost weight, and his once strong muscles seemed to have shrunk like deflated balloons.
“Uncle Malik,” I said again. He looked up at me, his eyes wild with fear.
“Malik?” the woman beside me whispered.
“No. No! No!” Uncle Malik shouted, struggling against his restraints. The guard punched him in the stomach, making him double over.
“Stop it! Please!” I begged, desperately pulling on the bars as if they would miraculously pry open.
Uncle Malik let out a gravelly, strained rasp. “Don’t you fucking touch her!”
The Puppet Master pressed a device against my skin, a jolt of electricity coursing through me like fire. I gasped, the shock seizing my muscles, and cried out in agony.
My legs buckled, and my body teetered backward, the world around me blurring. But then the woman was there, her arms wrapping around me just in time.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered.
In the distance, Uncle Malik’s cries echoed, a frantic sound that clawed at my mind, but it all faded into a distant murmur. The last thing I heard before the darkness closed in was the man’s voice, chilling and devoid of warmth.
“Merry Christmas.”
Those words filtered in the air, a mockery of the joyous holiday. The cold crept in, leaving only a lingering sense of dread.
“Oh, Gigi… I am so sorry. So sorry,” The woman sniffled, tears gathering in her eyes.
I blinked at her in confusion. “What's wrong?"
“I... I,” she said, her lips trembling. “I thought you both would be safe. After she... after your mother...” Her voice cracked, and she took a shuddering breath. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
My brow furrowed. “You knew my mother?”
The woman nodded, her tears spilling over. “My name is Valarie. Your mother was my sister. You’re my niece.”
My eyes widened. “No… you’re not serious.”
Yet as I took a moment to look at her for the first time, the family resemblance became apparent. Her vivid golden eyes sparkled with love despite being trapped here. Her eyebrows’ graceful arch and smile echoed the familiar warmth I had always associated with Mom.
“I am,” Valarie said. “Your mother was everything to me. I loved her so much.” Her words came out in gasps as she seemed to fight against the memories that haunted her. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”
I gave a slight nod, my heart sinking as tears cascaded down Valarie’s cheeks. Her body shook with quiet sobs, making it clear that my acknowledgment had only deepened her pain.
I looked over to the other cell, my heart sinking at the sight of Uncle Malik unconscious on the ground.
Valarie took a shaky breath and said, “My father was unforgiving and a monster.”
I turned back to her, noticing the subtle tremor of her lips as she continued. “I tried to protect Angelica, I really did, but I was too late.” Valarie shook her head, her tears flowing freely now. “I should have done more.”
I closed my eyes, not wanting to relive the pain of losing my parents, the pain of being trapped here, or the shocking revelation of her relationship to me.
“He won’t hurt you. I won’t let him,” Valarie promised.
My eyelids fluttered open, and my gaze locked onto hers. “You… you know who the Puppet Master is, don’t you?”
I could still hear his voice, a cold, fatherly reprimand directed at her, much like a parent scolding their child.
The lines on her face deepened. A single, guilt-ridden “yes” escaped her lips; her face, a canvas of pain and remorse betrayed her.
“We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
Valarie reached for my hand, her grip fierce and reassuring. “I won’t let that happened.”
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
“I know,” Valarie whispered. “But we’ll face this together. You’re not alone anymore. I promise you that.”
Her determination wrapped around me like a protective shield, and I felt a flicker of hope for the first time since finding myself in this place.