Chapter 4 #3
Gianina’s words were coming out more rushed as she continued the story, “I tried to fight him off but he backhanded me, making my vision blur for a few seconds. In that time, he was trying to get my dress off but couldn’t so he just pushed it up and tried prying my legs apart.
I kept telling him to stop but he wouldn’t listen.
Luckily, he was so focused and drunk he didn’t notice the knife I had in my garter. ”
I knew where the story was going, especially since I cleaned up the body, but I let her continue, knowing how cathartic getting everything out was.
“When I realized he wasn’t going to stop, I just panicked. I grabbed the knife and stabbed him in the neck.”
She took a shaky breath, her eyes wide as she brought them up to mine again. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted him to stop.” She started hyperventilating. “There was so much blood …so much blood.”
The last word turned into a sob and she fell against my chest. I instinctively wrapped my arms around her, holding her as she cried.
She felt so good in my arms. Like she belonged there.
Rubbing my hand up and down her back, I tried to calm her down. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now. He won’t be able to hurt you again.”
Gianina’s small frame trembled against me, cries her only response for several minutes. When she stopped crying, I felt her body tense. Pulling back abruptly, she apologized, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all my emotions on you like that.”
I smirked. “No problem. Do you feel better?”
She let out a sigh of what I hoped was relief. “I do actually. Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
The sun had set, and I could feel the change in temperature, even with the heat on. “I’m gonna start a fire. How about some s’mores and hot cocoa?”
A huge smile spread across her blotched face, and she let out a small laugh. “We haven’t even eaten dinner yet.”
I shrugged. “Who says we can’t have dessert first?”
She giggled again. “Okay.”
My plan to cheer her up seemed to be working as I went to the fireplace and tossed some of the wood I’d chopped into it. Then, I lit the pile on fire before going into the kitchen to make the hot cocoa.
I put two mugs of hot chocolate and all the supplies for the s’mores on a tray, then carried it to the coffee table in front of Gianina. I knelt down on the rug that was in between the coffee table and fireplace, then grabbed a marshmallow and skewer.
Gianina slid off the couch to kneel beside me on the floor. When our eyes met, her cheeks turned pink.
My stomach knotted. Against my better judgment, I felt like I was developing a crush on her.
Darting my eyes away, I focused on the fire as I stuck my marshmallow in the flames.
“My brother and I used to love doing this when we were kids. We’d make a fort right out here in the living room with all the extra sheets and stuff ourselves with s’mores until we got sick. ”
Gianina laughed as she stuck her skewer in the fire. “Really?”
I nodded, smiling fondly at the memory. “Yeah. We had a lot of fun here.”
“I guess brothers are more fun when you’re a boy. I don’t have memories like that of my brothers.”
I chuckled. “Definitely a different dynamic between brothers and sisters than brothers and brothers.”
“Tell me about it. Being the only girl in a house full of brothers is not fun. Everyday was like navigating a war zone.”
“I bet. We can be gross creatures.”
“That’s an understatement. The smells of multiple boys and the nasty things they leave behind have scarred me for life.”
I laughed as Gianina pulled her marshmallow from the fire. She eyed mine as she sandwiched hers between a graham cracker and chocolate square. “That’s going to burn.”
“I like it burnt,” I replied, swirling my marshmallow in the flames.
She scrunched her nose. “Gross.”
When mine was almost completely black, I pulled it out of the fire and assembled my s’more.
“That looks inedible,” Gianina commented before taking a bite of hers.
I took a bite of mine. “It’s perfect.”
She scoffed playfully. “If you say so.”
After our sweet treat, Gianina wrapped herself in a blanket and sat on the couch as I went to the kitchen to make dinner. As a bachelor, I knew how to cook several things, but nothing fancy. I decided on spaghetti since it was quick and I’d never met anyone who didn’t like spaghetti.
When I took the plates to the table, I called out to Gianina, “Dinner’s ready.”
No response.
The living room was around a corner from the dining room. When I peeked around, a grin curved my lips.
Gianina was cuddled up in the corner of the couch, asleep. The firelight danced across her face, and she looked even more beautiful than normal.
You can’t have her.
I went to the couch and carefully scooped her up, hoping not to wake her. I knew firsthand how draining a fight like she’d been in the night before was. It would take days, maybe even a week, for her to start to feel normal again, and that was just physical.
The mental toll would last longer given the extent of her trauma.
As I laid her down in bed and covered her up, I hoped that she wasn’t haunted by what had happened to her for the rest of her life. I knew how hard it was to live with ghosts.