Chapter 19
JADE
The nightmares come more often than I’d wish, like an ocean crashing over the shore while I lie there, dragging me into its deep demise, over and over, until I lose the ability to scream.
That first memory of Faro and his two brothers violating me still causes the panic to swell. Underneath my skin, I feel them tearing at me until there’s nothing left. Even still, they take more, like scavengers, unsatisfied until they’ve consumed every bit.
But it was nothing compared to what Agnelo did, over and over, nor the cruelty I endured at that club for the sake of money.
It’s been three days since Enzo found me on the bed, trapped in my nightmare. He rescued me from the panic, from the darkness, calling to me while my fingernails dug at the sand, scrambling to climb out.
In these last two nights, sleeping beside his warm body, I’ve been without a hint of those visions, held prisoner within his arms, casting them away.
If only Robby was with me, I could truly be happy. I could finally live. That’s assuming Enzo would still want me after he learns the truth about my child and my past.
The scalding water sluices down my body as I lift my face to it, wanting the burn, the steam enveloping the sprawling master bathroom.
I’ve got to tell Enzo everything. It’s my only option. I have to ask for his help. He’s waiting for me right outside the door. All I have to do is start at the beginning. But I just don’t know how.
Shutting off the shower, I open the glass door, grabbing one of the white towels stacked on the marble stand beside me, drying off, then wrapping it around myself.
My feet prod over the warm tiles beneath before I get to the mirror, wiping off the steam and looking at my reflection. The woman there, it’s as though I’m seeing her for the first time. She may be broken, but there’s courage inside.
So much of my story is difficult to imagine, even for me, someone who’s been through it. I never got to experience all the things many people take for granted. College. That first apartment. Falling in love. Holding my child after he was born.
The center of my chest turns heavy when I remember the day I gave birth. The day my pain was far worse than anything I’d endured.
Gripping the edge of the vanity, my knuckles strain, that awful day playing right in front of my eyes as though it’s happening all over again.
I was only twenty when I became a mother. And I was only twenty when they took him away.
“It’s okay, dear,” Angelina reassures, sitting beside me on a bed I’ve never been on, her slightly wrinkled hand clasping mine as I groan from the pain of the contractions.
“Can you please give me something? It really—ahh!” I scream as another one comes.
She tsks with a shake of her head, patting my hand. “I’m sorry, but Agnelo won’t allow it, and I have to do what he’s instructed.”
My scream turns to a gasping sob, the torment unbearable. I can’t do this. I can’t have a baby like this. My lower back spasms with sharp, stabbing pain as the contractions grow more consistent.
“I want my mother. Please!”
But Angelina doesn’t say a word, her expression somber.
When I picture Mom’s face, I start to cry even harder. This isn’t how it was supposed to be, being taken, getting knocked up by a monster. I don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl.
As soon as I got pregnant, Agnelo had Angelina check on the baby’s heartbeat, throwing some prenatals my way.
Angelina saw me a few other times, but they haven’t told me anything.
I don’t know if the baby has all her fingers and toes or how much she weighs.
They never allowed me to see a real doctor.
But supposedly Angelina is an OB/GYN, or so she says.
“It’ll be over soon, dear. I promise.”
But it won’t be over. Agnelo won’t let me keep my baby. He’s told me he’s going to take it from me. And if I don’t start behaving, he’s going to kill my child.
This poor baby will belong to a monster. What will he do to him? Who will care for him when I’m not around? Maybe he’ll allow me to keep him. Maybe I can beg.
My chin quivers as I snivel, heavier with every wave of agony.
The contractions come faster now, and I know the end is coming, I can feel that baby pushing down inside me, wanting to break free.
I grasp my protruding stomach, closing my eyes for a moment.
Stay a little longer, little one. The world is cruel. No place for you here.
Angelina checks me, and this time when she looks up, it’s with a tentative smile. “It’s time. You’re having it now.”
“No! I can’t do this!”
“It’s only a temporary pain and then—”
She realizes what I already know. There won’t be a forever after for us. He won’t be mine. My entire body feels like I’m being gutted with a knife, stabbing me over and over. I can’t lose my baby. Another wave of pain hits behind my eyes.
“Maybe you can talk to him,” I plead. “Ask him to let me keep my child. I’ll be good. Tell him. Please!”
Her brows dip and her lips thin as she comes to my side, peering down at me with sympathy. Leaning into my ear, she brushes away a sweaty strand of hair glued to my face. “I wish I could help you, but my hands are as tied as yours. I’m sorry.”
Then she’s back at my feet. With her guidance, and with complete reluctance, I push that baby out of me, screaming with all my might. When a high-pitched cry slices through the room, my heart bursts with happiness, and then the grief comes.
“It’s a boy!” Angelina announces, cradling him in her arms with a blanket wrapped loosely around him as she wanders to me.
When I see his little nose, that tiny hand bunched up into a fist, like he’s ready for the fight that’s about to be his, I slap a hand across my mouth, weeping for the days we’ll never get.
I have a son. My son. How could I ever let you go?
Robby. That’s what I’m gonna call you in honor of your grandma.
Her middle name was Roberta. It feels right.
I’ll protect you, I vow right then and there.
I’ll do everything I can for you, even when I’m not there to do it.
I’m sorry for this. I’m sorry I’ve ruined your life.
I didn’t mean to. The tears fall silently as I stare up at his angelic face.
It’s all my fault, my sweet baby. You don’t deserve this.
“Do you want to hold him?” Angelina asks, gazing between him and me, a grin etched on her face.
I nod, my breaths shuddering from the tears, my mouth curving into a smile, my heart beating so quickly, needing him against me forever.
I stretch out my hands for him, for that little boy who made me a mother, my heart never feeling so much love in my whole life.
But just as she’s about to hand him over, a door pushes open. I widen my gaze, inhales fighting the exhales as I see him coming, the eyes of hell, the face of demons. The father of my child.
“Give him to me,” Agnelo roars as he marches up to my beautiful boy, grabbing him away from Angelina, her expression as horrified as mine.
“No!” I lift myself up in the bed, ignoring the burning pain as I try to get off.
“Please don’t take him! I’ll do whatever you want!
” I swing my feet onto the floor, fighting to stand, holding on to the mattress as I do.
“Just give him to me, please!” I wail, hoping for an ounce of his sympathy, but he doesn’t even look at me, staring down at my son like he’s holding a piece of junk.
Angelina walks up to him, rubbing the baby’s head. “Agnelo, let the girl hold him at least. Babies need skin to skin.”
He glares up at her with a snarl. “Shut the fuck up. This is my kid. She’s nothing.”
His eyes focus on me as he steps close, as I stand there, helplessly watching him with my son. “You’re never gonna hold him. He’s mine now. Just like you are.”
“No.” I violently shake my head, the wails coming from my mouth sounding inhuman. This is what hell looks like. Feels like. This is agony.
Arms are around me, holding tight, but I barely feel them. “Shh, I’ve got you,” Angelina whispers. “This isn’t right,” she tells him.
“Wh-who will care for him?” I sniffle, pushing away from her. “How do I know you’ll keep him alive? What reassurances will I get that he won’t be harmed?”
“Reassurances?” he howls. “Is that some kind of fucking threat? Because if it is…” His hand reaches into his pocket and he retrieves a gun. “I’ll kill him right now.” He raises the barrel to Robby’s little head.
I gasp, panting wide-eyed, hands reaching out for my boy, but Agnelo moves back so I can’t even touch him. “No, no, no. I—I wasn’t threatening you! Don’t kill him, please!”
“Oh my God, this isn’t necessary,” Angelina says. “How about you give me the baby before you—”
Pop.
It takes my brain a second to register what just happened, my ears buzzing. She falls onto the hard wooden floor, a bullet hole at her forehead, blood oozing out from around her as she lies there dead, staring at the white, unassuming ceiling above.
“See how easy that was?”
He’s talking but I can barely hear him.
“That’s how easily I can kill this kid of yours.”
That gets me to pay attention. My son lies still in the arms of a monster, not realizing the danger he’s in.
“Yes, I—okay. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt him!”
“Get yourself cleaned up. The men will pick you up in thirty.”
He turns away, taking my entire heart and soul with him, every step he takes slicing at the wound that’ll never close.
“Robby!” I call. “His name is Robby.”
Then they’re gone.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever see my son again.