Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
VALENTINA
A week ago
T o say I have whiplash would be an understatement. I head back to the three women in a daze.
“What did Eli want?” They all turn and look at me as Mariana asks, “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“My mom wanted to talk to me.” I still feel out of sorts, as if my head is floating above my body. They’re silent for a moment before sensing I’m not in the mood to talk about my family, so they change the topic. I don’t really pay attention to the conversation, still confused. After we finish the food and the sky has become an array of orange and red, the women decide it is time to retire to our rooms.
I’m sitting by the balcony door in the room I’m trapped in. I’d managed to drag the armchair close enough to see outside, and the mid-fall breeze cools the room.
The sky has become pitch black, and I could make out some stars in the distance. In Chicago, we could never make out anything other than the black sky. I close my eyes and try to imagine what it would be like to be back home.
In my Mom’s arms, and to have Violette making snide remarks toward Mia when she’d come over. What it would be like to braid Monica’s hair, and to play with Marcello and the dogs. To hear Nonna tut at us for being unladylike.
The smell of Zehra cooking her infamous Adana kebab wafts around the kitchen and the four of us are all sitting around the kitchen island, waiting to taste it.
She places the plate of hot kebabs and slaps Marcello’s hand when he reaches for them, causing us to giggle. But the memory slowly disappears, leaving me with just the darkness.
I still can’t believe that Dad is taking this long to negotiate with the Camorra. I already know he doesn’t care about us as his family, but it’s as if he doesn’t care about the deal he’d made with the Colombians.
Unless he’s going to use one of my other sisters. I shake my head; no, Nonna would never allow it. Even if she doesn’t have much hand in Dad’s decision, she still has my uncles on her side. Besides, Violette is nineteen and Monica has just turned fourteen.
I bring up my legs and set the soles of my feet on the edge of the armchair, resting my head on my knees. I still can’t believe what the hell has happened in the kitchen today. Lifting my fingertips, I graze my lips.
Mortification drums through my veins persistently at how easily I kissed him back. God, this whole situation is so fucked up. What the hell does it even mean? Why did he kiss me? And why did I like it? I’m so confused, and it doesn’t help that he’s the literal enemy and the person who kidnapped me. I wish I was just a normal person, a normal twenty-one-year-old.
I really hope he doesn’t use that against the Outfit, because if he tries that, Dad will take it out on Mom and my sisters, or even Marcello since I’m out of reach. If only Dad cared about us as much as the fucking Outfit and his pride, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation. ??
I lean my head back onto the back of the chair and keep my eyes shut. They begin to sting, and I know what will be coming, but I just keep my eyes closed tight.
Hot, wet tears roll down the sides of my face and my body shakes with the effort of containing my sobs. I breathe heavily through my nose, trying to calm myself, but I just continue to cry silently.
I cry until there’s no more tears left and my cheeks have dried. The soft breeze soothes my heated face, and even though my eyes are already closed, my eyelids feel heavy.
Exhaustion weighs heavily on me. I cover my mouth with the back of my palm as a yawn breaks out. Even though goosebumps litter my arms, and the light pajamas Mara gave me aren’t keeping me warm, I still don’t get up from the armchair. Shivers break out across my entire body and the darkness swoops in to take me away.
“Valentina, you’re finally back.” Mom stands in the middle of my room with her arms wide open. I run to her, feeling my tears leave wet trails down my cheeks. “I’ve missed you too, Mia cara,” she says as she buries her face into my hair.
I pull back, my eyes scanning her from head to toe. A gasp leaves my lips as I spot the fading bruise under her right eye, and she winces when I graze her forearm. I grit my teeth to stop myself from confronting my dad for being a coward and thinking that putting his hands on us makes him a man.
Mom shakes her head at me. “Cara, I know how you feel, and I understand. I agree with you and support you, but a man like your Dad cannot be dealt with. At least not by us.” She squeezes my shoulders firmly.
I shake my head right back as I tell her, “We can do something, Mama.” Her eyes widen at my suggestion.
“I know we can’t escape the Outfit. But Dad will get his karma. Someday, someone will give him his due.” I tilt my chin, refusing to cower anymore. My Dad’s tyranny may work on his soldiers, but not us. Not anymore. Mom’s eyes soften as she scans my face.
“You have grown into such a strong and smart young woman. I am so proud of you, beyond what words can convey.” Mom’s eyes glaze over, and she sniffles a bit before turning her head to the side.
“I’ve had an amazing role model, after all.” I smile. Mom bites her lip and shakes her head, her long blonde hair falling around her shoulders.
“No. I’m not strong. I wish I was, but I couldn’t even do my children justice and protect them from a vile man.” The poison in her voice is clear as day, but behind it, her sadness is palpable.
“No, Mama, you are strong. Never think that just because you couldn’t leave or protect us, that it’s your fault. None of it is your fault.” I grab her palms, trying to emphasize my point.
“How adorable, a Mom and daughter reunion.”
My eyes fall shut at the grating voice of Nonna from behind me. I breathe in deeply before opening my eyes and turning around to face her. Her salt and pepper hair is twisted into her classic bun, and she is wearing a knee-length burgundy dress. Sporting her permanent scowl, her brows furrows.
“Hi, Nonna.” I give her a tight-lipped smile, which she scoffs at and mutters something in Italian before hitting her cane on the hardwood floors twice.
“You came out exactly like your Mom, a pathetic good-for-nothing wench, you have ruined yourself and the family name in the process.” She continues after I give her a puzzled look. “You thought the Folonari bastard wouldn’t tell us, mock us for stealing a kiss, and in doing so, stealing your virtue.”
My throat becomes so dry that my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Chest heaving for breaths, I sway, but Mom’s hands steady me from behind. My stomach dips and the bile rises, burning my esophagus in the process. God, I think I’m going to be sick.
Nonna points her wrinkly finger at Mom and I as she says, “For that, your Mom will pay the price, since she didn’t know how to raise her daughters to be honorable Italian girls. Angelo and Giovanni, take Diletta.” The two soldiers come from behind Nonna and head in Mom and I’s direction. I step in their way to stop them, but Nonna steps closer and slaps me, causing me to fall to the ground.
Mom struggles in the soldier’s grasp, but she is ultimately dragged away. When I try to get up and follow Mom, Nonna blocks me.
Stomping her cane close to where my hand is, a clear threat. My eyes sting, and I hate myself for how weak I feel. Nonna bends down, her eyes harsh and cold. Almost dead more than alive, and with the little life in them, it’s full of hate and cruelty. She grabs the lower half of my face and squeezes, causing pain to shoot through my jaw, but I keep a straight face as she sneers.
“I knew your Mom was a no-good rat when your nonno had introduced her as your Dad’s future wife. I tried to warn him, but a woman in our world is nothing more than a glorified ‘cum dump,’ as you young people say.”
I physically recoil at the words she uses, but she keeps her hand firm on my face. She seems unfazed by my absolute disgust as she continues. “I knew your Mom was a whore the day I met her. After all, the Gallo women were known for falling for lower-ranking men. Your youngest aunt ran away with a mere soldier, yet we still accepted your Mom into our family and agreed to marry her to our son. But a defective family such as hers should have never been considered.” My nose wrinkles at the way she degrades all my Mom’s side of the family, and her eyes narrow before throwing me back and standing up.
“You’d do well to remember yourself, Valentina. You are nothing more than an asset to further your family, your Dad, and the Outfit.”
The room shifts into a dingy basement and the sound of something dripping onto the floor echoes. I frantically turn around, trying to see where Nonna has gone. My body becomes taut with terror as I see Mom’s, Violette’s, Monica’s, and Marcello’s bodies hanging limply from the ceiling by their arms, their eyes torn out and their mouths agape.
“Valentina, why?” Their moans echo around the basement.
My eyes fly open as my chest constricts, my knuckles turning white as I have the chair’s armrests in a death grip. A fine sheen of sweat covers my body. Even as my hands grip the armrests, they shake with the effort of not collapsing back into the chair.
Stomach churning, I stumble before getting to my feet to make it to the bathroom door. The door hits the wall with the effort of me opening it. I struggle to lift the toilet bowl lid before I vomit.
The acid burns my throat, and the smell etches itself into my nose. My body trembles with sobs as I continue to throw up until my stomach is empty. I lean back as I dry heave, small pieces of my hair sticking to my face.
I slowly make my way onto my feet and head to the sink. I lift my shaking arms to rest them on the counter, but looking in the mirror makes me grimace. My cheeks are flushed, my hair resembles someone who’s gotten struck by lightning, and my shoulders are shaking even as my hands grip the sink.
Goosebumps litter my arms as the cold sweat dries. I manage to drag myself toward the shower and sluggishly turn the knobs till the bathroom fills with steam, and the scorching water pummels on top of my head, soaking me. I don’t bother with taking the pajamas off, exhaustion winning over.
I lean back onto the wall behind me, just listening as the water hits the tiles. The smell of vomit is still strong, and it makes me retch a couple of times before I decide that I should probably get out of the shower.
But instead, my knees buckle, and I feel my body descend till my butt hits the floor. My eyes feel heavy, and even the shivering doesn’t stop me from falling asleep again. The darkness takes the place of the bathroom walls.
* * *
I groan as I try to push back the blanket off my overheated body, but a hand slaps my hands, and someone scolds me.
“No, don’t try to move the blanket. You have a cold and you need to stay warm.”
My eyes flutter open, but I shut them as soon as I had opened them, the light blinding me and causing my head to throb.
I feel the bile rising as my stomach swooshes, and I rush to get up to get to the bathroom. When I finally manage to stumble inside, I spill my guts into the toilet bowl.
A large, warm hand rubs my back, and I can vaguely make out a soothing voice encouraging me to breathe. I groan as I squeeze my eyes, feeling so tired and disoriented. As I lean back into the warmth, I feel a sense of security and safety I’ve never felt before, even as fatigue leaves me disoriented.
After emptying my guts and dry heaving a couple more times, I let the person guide me back to the bed and cover me with the blanket. A shiver rolls through me, and I snuggle into the bed, bringing the blankets up to my chin.
I struggle with the exhaustion once more, and before I fall asleep, I mutter a thank you, but I can’t make out a response I’m sleeping once again.
* * *
I can hear faint voices float around me, and for a second, I think it’s my family, but then the memories of what had happened over the past couple of days come rushing back to me.
I keep my eyes closed and try to listen to what they’re saying, but the pounding in my head doesn’t help.
The room goes silent for a minute, and multiple footsteps sound around the room, coming closer, then stopping before someone says, “I know you’re awake.”
I sigh and open my eyes to see Emiliano, Mariana, Alessia, Mara, and Romiro all standing around the bed. My head throbs as the light irritates my retinas, and I wince but keep them open.
“Wh-” My voice comes out hoarse, so I try clearing my throat. Emiliano pours me a cup of water and hands it to me. I accept it, grateful for the gesture. The cold water soothes the dryness in my throat. “What happened?” I finally manage to ask. No one answers for a couple of beats, and my eyes filter around to look at their faces.
“Mara came to your room the next morning after the picnic, but you weren’t answering, so she thought you were still asleep, but when you didn’t come out at all, and then you also weren’t answering the door, Mom and Mara decided to ask Romiro to break the door to see what happened.” Emiliano pauses for a second as he clenches his jaw.
“They found you passed out on the bathroom floor with the shower on and the room was practically full of steam,” he finishes saying. Oh. I don’t remember any of that.
I notice that I’m not in the same room I was in. The walls are a muted sage with light brown accents, the bed covers a light green with white leaf patterns.
“Where am I?”
“My room.” Emiliano’s the one to tell me, and confusion spears through me. I give him a quizzical look, which he chooses to ignore. My eyes fall to the bed sheets as I try to comprehend what the hell is going on.
“How many hours have I been out?” I ask, looking back up at them. Mariana, Mara, and Alessia all wince as if they don’t know how to answer that, and both Romiro’s and Emiliano’s faces are set in unreadable masks.
“You’ve been out for close to a week now.” No… A week, as in, seven days . I try to get up, but the room spins, and a palm presses into my shoulder, pushing me back down. A hysterical sob rises in my throat, but I swallow it and look at Alessia.
“Why was I out for that long?” The panic, clear as day in my voice, seems to incite sympathy from her as she gives me a weak smile.
“You were technically out completely for three days, but then you became hysterical and wouldn’t lie down, so we had to give you some medicine to calm you. You were also in a lot of pain.”
My throat suddenly feels dry and the pounding in my head seems to be getting worse. I close my eyes, pushing my head farther into the pillow. She’s not wrong about the pain; I can still feel the aches and tiredness lingering in my limbs.
I’m drained, my eyes heavy. Everyone seems to see that, and Emiliano nods and says, “Get some rest, we’ll be nearby.” I wish I had the energy to say something back, but the room fades as my eyes fall shut.