CHAPTER 8
CARA
The Weeknd was blasting out of the sound system in the gym, and I was trying to use the pounding beat to push myself harder and faster.
I had already been down there a while, desperate to find some quiet in my head.
Those pills had been pressing on my mind all night, and I had come so close to just trying them out, that it scared me.
I never wanted to turn to drugs and become my mother, but I was in a dark, desperate place and it all seemed so harmless – just to swallow one little pill to hopefully make all of my pain stop for a while.
I’d barely slept a wink again, not even Cal and Arran holding me between them all night, enough to keep my nightmares away after the emotion of the funeral.
It had taken every bit of determination and will power I had to force myself to throw that damn baggie of pills into the trash can in my bathroom after I had showered.
I didn’t want to part with the life line I hoped they would be, but I had forced myself to remove the temptation. I was not my mother.
After that I had researched coping techniques for anxiety and stress on my phone, and that was how I found myself in the gym, my feet pounding against the treadmill as I worked to find the exhaustion and quiet an internet article had suggested I would eventually find.
The pain in my ribs was getting increasingly worse as I got shorter and shorter of breath, every inflation of my lungs causing the bruising to feel like I was being stabbed, but if anything, that pain was the only thing that was keeping me from slipping too deep back into my mind.
The exercise wasn’t working, but the pain was.
It hadn’t been a coping mechanism I had read about, but it was working at that moment, the sharp stabs not allowing me to focus on anything for more than a moment or two. It was by no means some great relief from the nightmare in my head, but it was a small reprieve, and I’d take that.
When the timer on the display screen read somewhere around the hour mark, I found myself slowing to a stop.
I was dripping with sweat, my heart racing, and heaving for each painful breath, but I also had this slight sense of achievement that I had done something productive.
Maybe it wasn’t much – running on a treadmill – but after how vulnerable and unsteady I had felt for the last week, it felt good.
As soon as I stepped off of the machine, my legs turned to jelly under me and I found myself reaching for the bar on the weight bench beside me, to remain upright.
As I stood there, trembling slightly and wanting nothing more than to sink to the mats and just lie down, memories of the day Dante and I had laid on those very mats flooded me.
He had come to comfort me when I had fallen apart, and he had held me so tightly, made me feel so secure and safe.
We’d kissed that day, and it had felt so right at the time.
I had been falling for him, every part of him – even his overbearing, demanding tendencies.
He could make me feel secure in a way no one else could, and I longed to feel that way right then.
I missed him, and more than anything I wanted to know where he was, and if he were safe.
He’d been gone for over a week now and no one had heard a word from him, as far as I knew.
Arran and Cal had promised to tell me if he contacted them, but there had been no contact.
I had called him several times and left him two voicemails, asking him to come home.
I just wanted him home, where he belonged.
We couldn’t figure anything out between us if he weren’t even there!
My eyes and nose started to burn with the threat of tears, so I forced myself to move. I had to try and keep myself together for as long as possible. That was my aim for the day.
I’d taken a week to wallow in what happened in that warehouse, in losing Gia, and in what those monsters did to me, in my destruction.
I’d come to the conclusion that I would never find a way to repair my broken pieces following it all, but I had resolved to do all I could to keep going anyway.
I just wanted to stuff all of the fear, pain, and loss down deep, along with the rest of my trauma and find a way to pretend it never happened.
It sounded like a bad solution, but it had worked before, so why change the habit of a life time?
Rafe told me he needed me, so I would cobble together the best version of a whole person I could for him. Maybe somewhere along the way I would find a way to live with that version of myself too, or so I hoped.
I grabbed the bag I had packed with clean clothes and my toiletries and shakily moved through to the pool to use the shower in there. I had guessed I wouldn’t be up to the numerous flights of stairs after my work out, and I’d been dead on.
I set the shower running as soon as I walked into the vast changing area, the shower separated from the rest of the space by a long wall but no door.
It made me feel a little unnerved to be so open, but I reminded myself that I was home, a safe place.
No one was going to come trying to creep in the shower with me there.
Still, I stripped off quickly and climbed into the steamed up shower enclosure with my heart pounding just a little too fast. My fears were deep rooted enough that the odd situation had my adrenaline spiking slightly.
Determined to see it as another test of my strength that day, though, I forged on and washed myself as fast as I could, rubbing shampoo into my wet hair almost savagely in my race to just finish up.
I couldn’t help but think as I stood there with my heart racing from such an irrational fear, that maybe Rafe had been right about me needing some kind of therapy.
Surely it couldn’t make me any more unhinged than I already felt, right?
I reached back into the shower cubicle, and started to gather up the products I had used when a loud knock startled me so badly a cry slipped from me. I dropped my shampoo and exfoliator, turning towards the door with fright.
“Cara?” It was Dio. “Are you in there? Are you okay?”
“Fuck,” I rasped as I slammed a hand over my chest, where it felt like my heart was trying to erupt through my skin, and gasped in a breath.
“Cara! Answer me now, or I’m coming in!” Dio snapped.
“Don’t you dare!” I cried in panic. “What do you want?”
I knew my fear and adrenaline was coming out in my angry tone, but he had scared me half to death. Not to mention I was fuming with myself for my lame reaction to someone knocking on a bloody door!
“Rafe was looking for you? Why did you scream?”
“I didn’t scream!” I bit out defensively. “You scared the shit out of me though.”
“Shit! Sorry baby. Can I come in?” he asked.
“No!” I cried. Then I forced myself to take a breath. I was acting crazier than I felt and I knew it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
I took another deep breath and sighed heavily, before I opted to just be honest. It’s not like he could see me as any more messed up than he already did.
“I…I have some issues around being in the shower. I…I…when I was a kid…one of the men who…he came into the bathroom while I was showering and well, it left me kind of messed up. It’s not you, Dio. It’s all me.”
“Jesus, Carr,” he growled. “Who was this fucker?”
“One of the many,” I admitted shakily.
“Cara…” I felt tears building up and forced myself to pull it together again. I was not going to cry.
“Dio, I’m okay. Can you just go upstairs, please? I just need to get dressed, and then I…I’ll come and find you and Rafe, alright?” I asked as steadily as I could.
“Of course, Piccola. We’ll be in the kitchen. I’ll make some lunch,” he agreed after a heavy clearing of his throat.
I knew it made him angry to hear about the men who had hurt and terrorised me before. It made them all angry, but I didn’t want to lie to them. They deserved honesty, just as I hoped I did in return.
***
Rafe was pacing back and forth before the sliding glass doors, which led out to the garden, when I walked into the kitchen, a short while later.
He was still wearing the black trousers and white shirt from Gia’s funeral the day before, both of which now looked heavily rumpled.
He had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and his shoes laid haphazardly at the side, as though he had kicked them off in a hurry.
Dio was still in his clothes from the funeral too, only he had not only removed his jacket, but his black shirt was also unbuttoned, showing the close fitting undershirt he wore beneath.
They both looked exhausted and unkempt, but I didn’t see any injuries as I scanned them closely.
Dio glanced up first, from where he was stirring something in a pan over the hob. I looked to him questioningly and he just nodded to Rafe who hadn’t even noticed I had entered the room yet.
“Rafe?” I started to cross the room to go to him, but as soon as I spoke, he abruptly spun my way and pinned me in place with his worried stare. “What’s wrong?” I asked as I fought not to allow panic to grip me.
Rafe continued to stare for a very long and uncomfortable minute, before giving himself a shake.
I saw the moment he placed a mask on - this one showing a relaxed and unconcerned front - but it didn’t fool me.
I had seen the unease in his face when he first looked at me.
Something was wrong, and my brother had just decided he was going to try and spare me the details.
“Nothing, sweetheart. I was just worried after leaving you to deal with the wake yesterday. How did it all go?” he asked, his voice perfectly smooth and measured.
It really was terrifying to see how good he was at wearing the masks Marcello had taught him to always hide behind. What was it doing to him, to always have to be someone he wasn’t? I didn’t want him to have to live that way.