4. Kaz
This is provingto be far more complicated than I thought, and not because I have abandoned my life behind, killed Kaz to become Mattia, and don’t know who my friends and foes are. Dealing with Caelia is proving to be the most challenging of them all. It appears that Mattia has been solely focused on breaking her. She carries a lot of baggage, that’s for sure. Trauma that needs to be addressed and dealt with, but he failed. He might have bent her a little his way and broken some little pieces along the way, but he didn’t break her completely.
I purposely omitted any mention of her in my report to my uncle. I’ve told him everything is going according to plan, and she suspects nothing. I didn’t even bother mentioning that I know he’d been hiding the abuse under the rug. Vanya must have told him I know by now. I’ll have to deal with that later.
Technically, it wasn’t a lie. Caelia believes I am Mattia. The behavior change might confuse her, sure. But maybe she thinks he’s gone crazy. I gave her an extra week. She barely left the room. No one came to visit her. She merely exists within that confined space, driving me insane. She learned to stay out of Mattia’s way and not provoke him unless provoked, which is a brilliant plan in the long run. I should leave things as they are and stay away from her. She’s not even a part of my plan. But I can’t. Her grief haunts me.
I knock twice on her door, waiting.
“Go away!”
Not tonight. I’ve made up my mind. I barely closed an eye over the last week, trying to think of something to help her. The easiest way would be to tell her the truth, but that’s not an option. I’ve noticed that her door doesn’t have a lock. Her sense of safety is nothing more than an illusion, and she knows it. My gut twists as I open the door and step inside.
Caelia spends a great deal of time reading. Nothing in this room reflects her presence. The bed sheets are pristine white; the only light source emanates from the nightstand lamp. There are no unfolded clothes scattered around, dirty mugs, framed photos, or a laptop—nothing.
“Hi.” I close the door and turn back to her. She has already leaped out of bed. “A knife, Wildfire? Are you flirting with me?” I grin, directing my gaze to the hand in which she holds the knife.
She’s not entirely broken. Her grip on the knife is steady, and I shouldn’t underestimate her. But I sense that she’s unsure of what to do with it. She’s dressed in an oversized T-shirt and long pajama pants, attempting to conceal as much of her body as possible, even though it’s warm inside the house. I can see how my presence might have given her the wrong impression. I’m dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, ready for bed. Usually, I sleep naked, but I don’t want to frighten her. Her internal struggle must be agonizing. It must be hell inside her mind.
“Why are you here?” she asks.
“I’ve told you our marriage is going to change,” I mutter, making my way to the bed in the least threatening manner possible.
I choose the unoccupied side and lie down, crossing my arms beneath my head. Caelia regards me with narrowed eyes, still not lowering the knife. She won’t attack me. She’s contemplating it, but she won’t.
“It’s going to be a long night for you if you plan on standing there, Wildfire.”
“Why are you here, Mattia?”
Soon to be dead, Mattia. I’m entangled in this mess because of him.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come down for dinner,” I remind her. “And I’ve told you we’re going to share a room. You don’t have to like it.”
She hesitates, sitting on the armchair near the window, the knife resting on her thighs. She’s so beautiful, even with a mind full of violent thoughts. I find it strangely captivating.
“I thought it was a cruel joke.”
“Not at all.”
“You can sleep over there, but we’re still going to share a room from now on.”
“Please, Mattia. This house has so many rooms. Can’t I have this one to myself?”
It’s not about this particular room. She yearns for a space of her own—a sanctuary where she can immerse herself in the illusion of safety somewhere free from his torment. I wish I could grant her that, but I’ve traveled too far down this path. I could force her to come downstairs for dinner, but I won’t. I’ll provide her with as much space as my obsession allows.
“No, Wildfire. You can’t.”
“I’d sleep with an eye open if I were you.” She threatens me.
I nod, smiling. I had no illusions that it would be any different. Caelia despises Mattia so intensely that she’d likely kill him, given the opportunity. The overwhelming desire to scream at the top of my lungs that I am not him is so strong that I must close my eyes and regain composure. Silence lingers between us, tense and uncomfortable. She may attempt to kill me in my sleep, but after so many years of confinement, she’d have to be a damn ghost to get close enough.
“What are you reading?” I inquire, and she scoffs, refusing to respond. “How was your day?” No response. “Very well. How about dinner tomorrow night?”
“Fuck you, Mattia!”
There’s that.
I give up tonight.