Chapter 4 #5
“Please.” He grabs my arm, his fingers digging in. “Please, Mina. If he catches you here, he’ll hurt you. He’ll fire your mother, and you’ll have nowhere to go. You have to hide. Now.”
There’s fear in his voice, and I start to panic.
“Where can I hide?”
He pulls me toward the antique wardrobe. The doors are heavy, dark oak, carved with elaborate patterns. He yanks them open, revealing a space filled with hanging clothes. Shirts, jackets, the expensive fabrics of a rich boy’s wardrobe. He pushes the hangers apart to make a space.
“In here,” he says. “Quick. Just stay quiet until he’s gone.”
I hesitate, every instinct screaming at me that something is wrong, but the fear for him, for myself, for my mother’s job is louder.
I step into the wardrobe. The doors close behind me, and darkness swallows everything. I hear the click of a lock. The scrape of a key turning.
“Cristiano?” I push against the doors, but they don’t budge. “Cristiano, what are you doing?”
Silence.
“Cristiano!” I pound my fists against the wood. “Let me out!”
“I can’t.” His voice comes through the thick oak, muffled but close. He must be standing right on the other side. “I’m sorry, Mina. I can’t let you leave. Not until you listen to me.”
The blood drains from my face.
“There’s no one coming, is there?” My voice is barely a whisper. “Your father isn’t coming.”
A pause. And then in that flat, cold voice that terrified me so much, “No.”
Horror floods through me.
“Let me out.” I’m pounding on the doors now, throwing my whole weight against them. “Cristiano, let me out right now!”
“I can’t. Don’t you see? If I let you out, you’ll leave. You’ll walk away and never come back. I can’t let that happen. I won’t survive it.”
“This is insane! You can’t keep me in here!” I’m screaming now, slamming my palms against the wood until they sting.
“I just need you to listen to me. You belong with me, Mina. We belong together.”
“Let me out!”
“If you would just stop fighting and let me explain—”
“Please!” The anger is draining away, replaced by terror. “Please, Cristiano, please let me out. It’s so dark. I can’t breathe.”
“Shh.” His voice is soft now. Soothing. Tender. Like he’s comforting a frightened child. “Shh, Mina. It’s all right. You’re safe. I would never hurt you.”
“You’re hurting me right now!”
“I’m protecting you.” There’s a rustle of fabric, and I imagine him leaning his weight against the door, resting his forehead there, his hands right where mine are splayed. “From the mistake you were about to make. You were going to leave me, Mina. You were going to throw away everything we have.”
“We don’t have anything.” I’m sobbing now, tears streaming down my face in the darkness. “We’re friends. That’s all. Just friends.”
“No.” His voice hardens. “No. We’re more than that. We’ve always been more than that. The way you held me. The way you stroked my hair. The way you kissed me.” His voice drops to a reverent whisper. “That was love. You love me.”
I close my eyes and try to breathe.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
“Please,” I cry. “Please let me out. I’ll do anything. I’ll listen. I’ll stay. Just please, please let me out.”
“You’ll listen?” Hope flares in his voice. “You’ll really listen?”
“Yes. I promise. I’ll listen to everything you have to say.”
“And you won’t leave? You won’t run away?”
“I won’t leave. I promise. I just— I can’t think in here. I can’t breathe. Please, Cristiano. If you really care about me, you’ll let me out.”
Silence.
I wait, my heart pounding, my palms slick against the wood.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“You know me.” I force my voice to stay steady, calm, even as panic claws at my throat. “You know I keep my promises. Haven’t I always been there for you?”
Another silence, longer this time.
“Yes,” he says finally. “You have.”
“Then trust me. Please. Let me out, and we’ll talk. Really talk. About everything.”
I hear him exhale shakily on the other side of the door.
“You promise you’ll stay?”
“I promise.”
“You promise you won’t run?”
“I promise.”
“Say it again.”
“I promise I’ll stay. I promise I won’t run.”
The key scrapes in the lock.
The doors swing open.
Light floods in, blinding after the darkness, and I stumble forward, gasping for air. Cristiano is standing there, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate. He reaches for me—
And I bolt.
I lunge for the bedroom door, my legs pumping, my heart screaming. My hand closes around the doorknob.
His arms lock around my waist and yank me backward.
I scream, but it’s cut off as we crash to the floor, his body pinning mine, his hand clamping over my mouth.
“Shh.” His breath is hot against my ear. “Shh, Mina. Why are you making me do this? I trusted you.”
I thrash beneath him, trying to bite his palm, trying to knee him, trying to do anything to get free. But he’s so much bigger than me, so much stronger, and his arms are like iron bands around my body.
“Stop fighting. Please, Mina, stop fighting. You promised you wouldn’t run.” There’s a snarl of anger in his voice. “You’re mine. Mine. You have to stay with me. I’ll show you how happy we can be. Stop struggling. I’ll show you. Why won’t you let me show you?”
I keep fighting him, but it’s useless. He’s too strong. I’m too small. His body is pressed against mine, his arms crushing the breath from my lungs, his hand sealing my screams inside my throat. I can feel every inch of him against me. His chest heaving, his thighs pinning my legs, his hips—
Mrs. Montoni’s words from the previous day crash through me. You don’t know him. You don’t see what I see.
He could do anything to me right now. Anything at all. And I couldn’t stop him.
I thought Cristiano was kind. Thoughtful. Gentle. But all this time, I only saw what he wanted me to see.
And now he’s holding me down like an animal.
He is his father’s son after all.
The fight drains out of me, like water from a broken vessel. I go limp in his arms. Silent tears stream down my face, soaking into his palm, my body shaking with quiet, hopeless despair.
“Will you listen to me now?”
I don’t respond. I can’t. There’s nothing left inside me. No anger, no fear, no fight. Only emptiness.
“Mina?” Cristiano’s grip loosens slightly. “Mina? Please say something. Please look at me.”
He removes his hand from my mouth, but I don’t scream. What would be the point?
He shifts us so he’s sitting up, leaning over me. His hands come up to cup my face, turning it toward him, and I let him. I’m a rag doll. A broken thing. I cry silently, my shoulders trembling.
“I’m sorry.” He wipes my tears away with trembling fingers. “I didn’t mean to— I never wanted to—”
He breaks off, breathing fast.
“I just can’t lose you,” he whispers. “I can’t. You’re everything to me. The only good thing in my life.”
“I was worried about you. That’s why I came here.” My voice comes out flat. Dead. It doesn’t sound like me. “Isn’t that funny?”
His head bows, and I feel him deflate. All the desperate energy draining away.
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened just now. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just—”
He stops. Swallows.
I don’t respond.
His hands are on my face, still wiping away tears that won’t stop falling.
“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you, Mina. I’ve loved you since we were children.”
I finally look at him. Really look at him. The boy I’ve known my whole life. The boy I held in my arms. The boy I kissed in the garden.
I don’t recognize him anymore.
“Don’t ever come near me again,” I whisper.
His face crumbles. “Mina.”
“Don’t.” I pull away from him, my limbs heavy and clumsy, and rise to my feet. My legs are shaking so badly I can barely stand. “Just don’t.”
I turn and walk toward the door.
“Mina, please.”
I don’t look back.
The door opens. The hallway stretches before me, endless and blurred through my tears.
Behind me, I hear a sound. A broken, animal howl of grief.
I keep walking. Down the hall. Up the stairs. All the way to my room.
I close the door.
And then I collapse.
I don’t know how long I lie there on the floor, curled into a ball, shaking. Minutes. Hours. Time has lost all meaning. All I can see is his face when I told him to stay away. The devastation. The disbelief. Like I’d reached into his chest and ripped out his heart.
Mrs. Montoni tried to warn me about Cristiano, and I didn’t listen. I feel numb and hollowed out. The girl who walked into his bedroom tonight was a different person entirely, and she didn’t survive.