Julia
When I first hear the noise outside the room, I barely even raise my head.
Why should I? There’s nothing worth getting out of bed for, anyway.
I’ve been hiding out in this room for what feels like a lifetime now, though it can’t have been more than a day. I just can’t stand the thought of having to look at Andreo, knowing what he has planned for me and this child, the sheer horror of realizing everything he intends to inflict on us.
Because I want to believe that he can’t be serious about it.
He never showed any interest in being a father during the time we were together, not in any meaningful way, at least, and it’s hard to believe that it would have changed since he has abandoned his own family and turned his back on everything he knew.
But I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not about being a father in his own right, no—that would be too easy for him. This is something much, much darker.
He wants to take something from Antonio, from me, steal the one thing that speaks to our connection and corrupt and poison it beyond all recognition. That’s his game, as twisted as it is, as sick as it makes me to imagine what he will do given the chance.
I clutch my belly again, trying to remind myself that none of it has actually happened yet. Which…which is what matters, right? I have to believe that.
As long as the child is not out there in the world, then there’s a chance I can turn this around.
There has to be. And even if Andreo somehow manages to keep me here beyond the day when they’re born, I’ll still be an influence on their life, right?
I mean, it’s not like he can just shut me out entirely.
I can try to teach them how to be a good person, the kind of person I could be proud of…
But at the back of my mind, something else is nagging at me.
I can’t stop thinking about my own parents, and how poisonous they became just putting up with each other.
What if that happens to me too? What if I become infected by resentment to Andreo to the point that I can’t hide it from my child?
That’s the part that terrifies me the most, the part that I’m struggling to make sense of.
I have always sworn to myself that I will do anything and everything in my power to make sure my child has a better life than me, but that desicion, it seems, has been wrested away from me whether I want to admit it or not, and I have to contend with what’s left behind in its wake.
But the noise sounds against from outside the room, and this time, bleary, I lift my head to see what might be causing it.
It sounds almost like a banging—not like a banging on the bedroom door, there would be no need for that, anyway, since Andreo has been letting himself come and go as he pleases since we got here.
I’ve even woken a couple of times to find him standing over the bed and watching me, the chill of his gaze on me at my most vulnerable enough to make my hair stand on end.
No, this sounds as if it’s coming from outside the apartment.
But…nobody knows we’re here, right? I haven’t heard the movement of any neighbors in the apartments below, so I just assumed that we were the only ones in here. Did one of them hear me in here, wonder what was going on?
I swing my legs out of bed, pricking up my ears, praying that I’m going to get some kind of break from this nightmare, if only for a moment. There’s no way that Andreo will be able to keep up the front with a normal person there before him, I’m sure of it, and maybe—
And then a huge crash explodes through the quiet air, and I spring back toward the bed, clamping a hand over my mouth in shock. What the hell is happening? I press my ear to the door, trembling, forcing myself to stand my ground.
Is it…?
“Where is she?”
I collapse to the ground as soon as I hear his voice.
I know that voice. I would know it anywhere.
It’s Antonio.
He’s alive.
And just like that, it’s as though all of my prayers have been answered, every desperate little incantation that I sent up to whoever was listening has been actually heard and benevolently acknowledged.
He’s not dead, he’s not dead, he’s not dead.
It feels like something close to a miracle, and the tears brim in my eyes as I try to make sense of it, joy and relief and something else buzzing inside of me until the lines blur entirely.
Oh God, I’m not out of this yet.
And if Andreo was willing to shoot his father once, he will do it again, and this time, he will go for the kill.
I try to pull open the door so I can rush out and warn Antonio, but just as I get my hands on it, I hear a lock click from the other side.
That fucker! Andreo must know that I am what Antonio is looking for, and he’s willing to do anything to keep me under lock and key, quite literally.
I bang on the door, trying to be heard over the chaos of everything happening outside.
“Antonio! Antonio, I’m in here!”
But I’m not sure they can hear me.
Footsteps fill the air, the thunder of what must be a half dozen men bursting in on this place. Questions rush my mind. How did they find me? Is Andreo the only one here, or are there other men protecting this place? Is Antonio here for revenge?
I slam on the door desperately, trying to be heard over the chaos, and I pray that he will get to me soon. I don’t even want to think what might happen if Andreo moves in first, closes the distance between us and takes me away from Antonio in whatever way he can think of…
“Julia!”
I gasp as I hear Antonio’s voice again, and I press my ear to the door, as if I can reach through to him. “Antonio, I’m in here…”
I hear the lock jiggle on the other side, and then I can make out his voice once more.
“Julia, get away from the door. Step back.”
I do as I’m told, arms wrapped around myself, and stare at the door. There’s a thud followed by a loud crack, and then another, and then another—the door buckles dangerously in the frame, so close to giving way, but not quite moving yet.
I squeeze my hands into fists at my sides, trying to keep myself calm, but I’m not sure it’s working. God, I would do anything right now, anything just to see him, to prove to myself once and for all that he’s alive…
And then, finally, the door splinters in front of me, and I let out a breath as Antonio stumbles over the threshold. I stare at him for a moment, like he might be a mirage, like he might blink out of existence at any second. But he doesn’t.
He’s really there, standing before me, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like he was never gone, like we were never apart.
I throw myself at him before I can think, wrapping my arms around him and clutching him with every inch of strength left in my body. I breathe in the scent of him. It’s him. It’s really, truly him.
“Julia,” he murmurs, face pressed to my shoulder, hands on my back, and I know he can feel it too.
That distance, which nearly stretched to consume everything between us, falls away in a matter of moments.
My breath comes in long, shuddering gasps, and I pull back, taking his face in my hands, staring at him, wondering if this is real—if my prayers have really been answered.
His bottom lip is bloody, and there’s a spattering of blood across his white shirt, darkening his skin. He cups my face with his hand and kisses me, hard—the kind of kiss that removes any doubt I might be holding on to that there is anything at all to fear.
Because, as long as he’s here, I know everything is going to be okay.
When he draws back, though, I hear something behind him—someone, rather. And my stomach drops when I realize that Andreo is watching us. I suddenly feel exposed, like he has seen something he never should have.
That fucker, I don’t want him laying eyes on me when I’m with Antonio, tainting whatever it is we have with his judgmental glower.
“You couldn’t even wait till you had her alone, huh?
” Andreo snarls, as he moves into the room behind us.
I can see Antonio’s men circling behind him, but Antonio raises a hand, telling them to keep their distance.
This is still his son, after all, and he’s not going to let someone else put him down just like that.
“Andreo,” Antonio replies, his voice careful, measured. “Let her out of here.”
I cling to his arm, so tight that I’m sure my nails will leave marks. I don’t care. Now that he’s here, I refuse to be parted from him again. I fucking refuse. I can feel that draw to him, as strong as it ever was, something deep within me that insists that we stay close to one another.
Andreo’s lip curls back, his eyes cold, black, like a shark cutting through the water toward his prey.
“She was meant to be my wife, Dad, or did you forget that?” he demands, not taking his eyes off his father. He might be talking about me, but I’m nothing more than a pawn in all of this, a piece on the board he’s pushing around to hurt his father.
“You would never have even met her if she didn’t want me first,” he goes on, taking a step toward us. His gaze flicks with abject disgust toward me, and he shakes his head. “She’s the reason all of this happened. If you hadn’t married her—”
“I told you, I did what I had to do to keep her safe,” Antonio tells him.
Andreo barks with laughter, the sound making me jump. “Is that what you’re telling yourself?” he replies, voice rising with incredulity. “You saw a chance to take something from me and you did, don’t lie to me. You couldn’t let me have anything. Not even her. And now you’ve let this whore—”
At the sound of that word, Antonio reaches for his gun. He doesn’t raise it, but he doesn’t have to. Andreo’s gaze flicks down toward it, and he takes another step forward, drawing the smashed remains of the door closed behind him.