Chiara
CHIARA
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, but the darkness in the room can’t drown out the images flashing in my mind. I close my eyes, trying to force them away, but it’s like they’re burned into the back of my eyelids, relentless and unforgiving.
Leo’s hands on me. The cold, detached look in his eyes as he held that syringe. The feeling of helplessness, of terror, as I realized what was happening, what he was about to do. It all keeps replaying over and over, a sickening loop that I can’t escape. My skin crawls with the memory, every nerve ending on fire with the phantom sensation of his touch.
I feel filthy. So fucking filthy.
The tears start again, burning hot as they spill down my cheeks, but I don’t try to stop them. I don’t think I could if I tried. I can’t seem to stop crying, and with every tear, I feel like I’m drowning in the weight of what happened, the horror of what Leo did to me.
I press my face into the pillow, my sobs muffled, but it doesn’t help. I can still feel it—the grime, the dirt clinging to my skin, deep in my pores, in my bones .
It won’t come off. I can’t get clean.
Desperation claws at my chest, and before I realize what I’m doing, I’m out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom. The lights are harsh, unforgiving, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror—pale, tear-streaked, my hair a tangled mess, my eyes red and swollen.
But it’s not the reflection that bothers me. It’s the filth I can still feel clinging to me, the grime I can’t seem to wash away.
I yank open the shower door, stepping inside, still wearing my pajamas, and turn on the water, as hot as I can bear. The steam fills the small space, thick and suffocating, but it’s nothing compared to the suffocating feeling of dirt on my skin.
The water hits me like a scalding rain, but it’s not enough. I grab the bar of soap, scrubbing at my arms, my legs, my face—anywhere that he touched me, anywhere that feels tainted.
But it doesn’t help. It won’t come off no matter how hard I scrub, no matter how raw I make my skin, I can’t get clean.
I’m crying harder now, sobbing as I scrub, the water running pink with the blood from where I’ve scraped my skin raw. But I can’t stop. I can’t stop until I’m clean, until this filth is gone. But it’s not working. It’s not working , and I feel like I’m falling apart, unraveling at the seams.
I can’t get clean. I can’t get clean…
“!”
The sound of Gio’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and filled with panic. I look up, my vision blurry with tears, and see him standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his eyes wide with horror as he takes in the scene—the blood, the water, the soap clutched in my trembling hands.
“, what are you doing?” he says, rushing forward, his voice tight with fear.
“I … I can’t get clean,” I sob, my voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “I can’t … I can’t get it off… ”
Gio’s expression crumples, and he quickly steps into the shower, not caring that he’s still fully dressed. He reaches for the soap, gently prying it from my hands, his touch careful, tender.
“Stop, baby, please. You’re hurting yourself.”
“But I have to get it off!” I cry, my voice breaking as I look up at him, my vision swimming with tears. “I—I can still feel him on me, Gio. I can’t get clean…”
He shakes his head, pulling me into his arms, holding me close as the water pours over us.
“You’re not dirty,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re safe now, okay? You’re safe.”
I cling to him, my sobs shaking my entire body, and he holds me tighter, his hands running up and down my back in soothing, gentle strokes.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my wet hair. “It’s okay, babygirl. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
“But I feel ruined,” I whisper, my voice trembling with the weight of my own shame, my own self-loathing. “I won’t ever be the same again and it’s all my fault! You shouldn’t have to be with someone like me.”
“Don’t say that,” he says fiercely, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye. “You’re not ruined, . You’re not broken. You’re mine, and I love you. I love you so fucking much.”
His words cut through the fog of panic and despair, the weight of them sinking into my heart, into my soul. I look up at him, my eyes wide and filled with tears, not sure if I heard him right.
“You … you love me?”
Gio’s eyes soften, and he nods, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears.
“Yes, Kitten. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you, and nothing will ever change that. You’re mine, . All of you. The good, the bad, the broken, the whole. I love every part of you. ”
I break down completely and sink to the shower floor, the weight of his words, the raw sincerity in his voice, overwhelming me. I bury my face in his chest, my sobs shaking both of us as he holds me close, his hands cradling my head, his touch grounding me.
The water continues to pour over us, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except the way he’s holding me, the way his words seep into my soul, chasing away the darkness, the filth, the fear.
“I’m so scared, Gio,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I’m so scared that I’ll never be the same, that I’ll always feel this way, that I’ll always feel dirty.”
“You won’t,” he says firmly, his voice a lifeline in the storm of my emotions. “You won’t always feel this way, baby. I’ll help you through this, I promise you.”
I nod, but I can’t stop the fear, the doubt that creeps in. “But what if I can’t? What if I’m never the same again?”
Gio pulls back slightly, his hands framing my face, his gaze locked onto mine.
“,” he says softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that almost breaks me. “What you went through was traumatic and it’s okay if you feel this way right now. It’s okay if you’re scared, if you’re angry, if you feel like you’ll never be the same. You went through hell, and no one expects you to just bounce back like nothing happened.”
I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me, but the fear, the doubt, still lingers, gnawing at the edges of my mind.
“But what if … what if I can’t get past it, Gio? What if I’m too broken?”
“You’re not broken, baby. You’re hurt, and you’re scared, and that’s okay. But you’re not broken,” he says, kissing my forehead. “You’re the strongest person I know, and I’m next in line to be the fucking Capo dei Capi. I’ll be here with you every step of the way as you heal.”
“But what if it takes too long?” I whisper, my voice trembling. “What if I’m never the same?”
“Then we’ll take it one day at a time,” he says firmly, his thumb gently brushing away the tears that continue to fall. “And I’ll be right there with you, no matter how long it takes. I’m not going anywhere.”
His words are like a balm to my shattered soul, and I feel something inside me start to loosen, to unravel. I’m still scared, still filled with self-loathing and doubt, but there’s a small part of me that believes him, that trusts him.
“Gio…” I whisper, my voice trembling.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I … I love you too,” I say, my voice breaking on the last word.
A flicker of relief, of hope, passes through his eyes, and he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.
“I know,” he whispers against my skin. “I know you do.”
We stay like that for a long time, the water pouring over us, washing away the blood, the soap, but not the pain. That will take time. But I feel a small flicker of hope, a small light in the darkness that tells me maybe I can get through this.
After a while, the water starts to cool, and Gio gently turns it off, helping me out of the shower. He removes my wet clothes and wraps a towel around me, his hands careful and tender, like I’m something precious, something he’s afraid to break.
He dries me off, his touch so gentle it brings tears to my eyes again. He does the same to himself, stripping off his clothing and drying off. Afterwards, he picks me up and puts me on the marble counter. I watch him as he opens the cupboard below the sink and takes out a first aid kit.
My heart warms as I watch him clean the blood from my arms and apply an ointment to the wounds before he gently winds bandages around them.
Then he leads me back to the bed, pulling back the covers and tucking me in. He doesn’t say anything, just lies down beside me, pulling me into his arms, his warmth chasing away the cold that’s settled in my bones.
“I’m here,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing lullaby. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I nestle closer to him, my head resting on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming the storm inside me. I’m still scared, still filled with doubt, but with Gio beside me, I feel like maybe I can get through this.
“Gio…” I whisper, my voice small and broken.
“Kitten?”
“Thank you.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head, his arms tightening around me. “You don’t have to thank me, . I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”
I close my eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace, the steady sound of his breathing, lull me into a sense of calm. I’m not okay, not by a long shot. But for the first time since that nightmare with Leo, I feel like I might be okay someday.