Chapter 14 Dolce Vita #3
After a while, I finally sit up. I move to the other side of the bench seat from Angelo and pull my knees to my chest so I can wrap my arms around my legs and rest my head on my knees. I feel someone sit next to me. I know it’s Mario because Angelo hasn't moved.
“I’m not asking for anything specific, but I do need you to talk to me for a second,” he says softly. I put my legs down and turn to face him. All of the pain and sadness fall away and all that’s left is rage. “Go fuck yourself. That good enough for you, Mario?” I ask with venom in my tone.
“It is,” he says with a soft smile. He motions for my hand, and I’m confused for a second until he presses his fingers to the inside of my wrist and looks at his watch.
“What are you doing?” I ask, frowning.
“Checking your heart rate,” he says. “How do you feel?”
“Kidnapped,” I deadpan.
“Laura,” he says. “I’m serious. We were lucky that the Hydroxocobalamin worked, and you didn’t die. How do you feel physically?”
“Dizzy,” I say. “Nauseated.”
“Yeah, you will for a couple of days. I’m going to give you the same shot every twelve hours to help get rid of those symptoms. You’ll probably need to take B12 for a while because you can have long-lasting effects from the Cyanide. We gave you a whole bunch initially,” he says.
“How long was I out and what time is it?” I ask.
“You were out for about twelve hours. It’s about three in the morning now,” he says.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To a private island off the coast of Brazil that Angelo owns,” he says simply.
“Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes as I focus my attention elsewhere.
“I need to give you another shot,” he says. “Is that okay?”
“Oh, I get a choice now if I die?” I ask.
“It’s a B12 shot, Laura,” he says softly.
“Just wait until we are on land to murder me. I don’t want my spirit to get lost in the ocean,” I say sarcastically. He wipes a spot on my arm with an alcohol pad before taking off the cap of the needle he had laying beside him.
“Ow, asshole.” I frown at him when he sticks me with the needle.
“Eventually your little attitude is going to have to chill out,” he says.
“Or what? Are you going to poison me again?” I ask. “Will it be in some hot tea this time? I like hot tea, so it would be easy to get me that way.”
“Keep it up and you’ll find out,” he says with a smirk as he places a Band-Aid on me and stands up.
“Will do. I could use the entertainment watching you try to break someone that’s already broken,” I say as I pull my knees back to my chest so I can rest my forehead on my knees.
They leave me alone for a while, but eventually, Mario brings me a bottle of water. I frown at him and put my head down. No fucking way I’m taking anything from them.
“You need water, Laura,” he says.
“Drink some of it,” I say.
“Okay,” he says as he opens the bottle and takes a sip, then hands it to me. “Drink. If you get dehydrated it will make your symptoms worse.”
I nod and take a small sip of water. It tastes normal and refreshing, so I take another sip.
I keep doing this over and over again, realizing quickly that I am very thirsty.
I finish the bottle and Mario takes it from me.
“I’ll get you another, just drink slower this time, please.
I don’t think the fish will like it if you throw up in their home. ”
I nod and put my head back on my knees. Drinking that much water on a swaying boat was an awful idea because now I feel like I actually am going to throw up.
My cheeks have a swirly feeling, and my mouth is rapidly filling with saliva. “Fuck,” I groan.
“What’s wrong?” Angelo asks as he gets up and moves closer to me. “Laura, what’s wrong?”
“I’m going to be sick,” I say, covering my mouth as if it will stop it.
He jumps up and runs into the cabin before coming out with a trash can.
The moment he hands it to me my body turns my stomach inside out and I throw up.
Angelo sits beside me and takes the hair-tie off my wrist before pulling my hair back.
I continue to throw up over and over, eventually dry heaving, as he braids my hair down my back.
“Drink,” Angelo says, putting a bottle of water in my hand.
I groan, not wanting to ingest anything.
“It’s better to throw up something than nothing.
Please drink the water.” I nod and take small sips only to throw them up again.
Angelo takes the trash can from my hands and gives me a new one.
I feel like I’m dying and the more I throw up the more I wish it would just take me the fuck out already.
After a while, I can take sips without getting sick but now, I’m both weak and dizzy.
I can hardly keep myself upright. When Angelo scoops me into his arms I try to push him away from me but I’m too weak.
“Please don’t,” I mumble. I don’t know why this is the time I ask for mercy but if he could at least wait until I feel a bit better so I don’t suffer when I die, that would be nice.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Laura,” he says.
“I hate you,” I say tearfully.
“I know. I’m so sorry, Dolcezza,” he says.
“You should have just let me die,” I say. “This is so much worse than death.”
He doesn’t say anything else, but he lays me on the seat with my head in his lap. He resumes stroking my hair as I curl myself up into the fetal position again. I cover my face and he moves with me, giving me comfort. I unwillingly fall asleep.
I feel like I’m floating again but this time when I am laid on something, warmth immediately surrounds me when a blanket is pulled up over my shoulders.
I roll away from whoever it was that was carrying me and curl myself up.
This time I bury my face in the blanket and try to ignore the presence of whoever is here.
“How long until she’s better?” Angelo says quietly.
“It’ll take a little while. Is she asleep?” Mario asks.
“Yeah, I think so,” he says. “Why does she always curl up like that?”
“Did you read the file I gave you on her?” Mario asks.
“Not yet,” he sighs. “After finding out that it was Dad that murdered her parents it… just hit a little too close to home.”
“Well, she went into foster care at ten years old until she was emancipated at sixteen when she went to college,” Mario says. “She had nineteen emergency room visits from ten to sixteen and twenty-three different homes. Her injuries were everything from broken ribs and concussions to rape.”
“Jesus,” Angelo says.
“Mhmm, so I’d say she probably does this as a way to protect herself. She’s guarding her face and abdomen and basically making herself look as small as possible,” he continues.
“The fact that she accomplished what she did is honestly amazing,” Angelo says.
“All for you to try and murder me. Some good all that schooling did me,” I say.
“Can we talk?” Angelo says. He sits beside me and places his hand on my hip. When I flinch at his touch, he doesn’t move his hand. “Please?”
“Go fuck yourself,” I say.
“Laura,” he says gently squeezing my hip. I ignore him and he does it again. “Talk to me.”
“Leave me alone,” I say loudly. “Can’t I just be miserable in fucking peace?”
“I won’t be patient with you forever,” he says impatiently.
“Fuck you,” I snap. He roughly rolls me to my back to look at me. I can tell he’s frustrated. “Get sick of feeling bad about almost murdering me, so now you have returned to being a dickhead?”
“You need to watch your mouth, Dolcezza,” he says with a warning in his tone.
“Or what?” I laugh dryly. “Are you going to poison me again? What about skinning me alive like you did Roberto? Either kill me or leave me the fuck alone. I don’t want to talk to you so I’m not going to and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it.”
“Fine,” he says as he stands up from the bed. “Enjoy being alone then.”
“I learned how to enjoy the silence a long time ago,” I say as I roll back to my side and curl myself back up. “Shut the door on the way out.”
Angelo stands there for a moment, no doubt seething, but ends up walking out. “He’s not as bad as he seems,” Mario says.
“I’d say poisoning my lemonade with cyanide makes him just as bad as I thought he was,” I say flatly.
“I obviously don’t have a job anymore since my boss is a corrupt little fucker.
I have no friends or family, so it doesn’t matter if I live or die.
One day he will get sick of having me around and he will put me out of my misery. ”
“How did you know Phillip was dirty?” he asks.
“Because every time I would find evidence or a witness, only Phillip would know about it. Every single time it would disappear from evidence, or the person would disappear before making an official statement,” I say.
“The fact that you all were so prepared for me says that he called you because he knew I was coming to the house. He was the only one I talked to about it. His mistake was assuming that I was just some kind of stupid woman. My mistake was taking a drink from someone I knew was bad.”
“Really? That was your mistake?” Mario asks. “Not coming to the house in general? Phillip was trying to get you to leave this shit alone for weeks, but you refused.”
“Oh, so now it’s my fault for doing my goddamn job? Everyone wants to talk about how corrupt the police are, but whenever someone tries to actually make a fucking difference, no one gives a shit,” I say.
“It’s your fault for…”