He’s breathing hard, and his head shakes. “No. You know what? Yeah, we will go upstairs. And you’ll do exactly what I say. Right?”
“Of course.”
“Yeah,” he says, getting up.
I’m shaking as I stand, but a little relieved that he let me defuse the situation. I start to walk. Then he shoves me against the wall, my head hitting it hard enough for the thud to echo in my ears. There’s a metallic taste in my mouth. Blood. I bit my tongue. I swallow, so close to being sick. My forehead hurts where it banged against the plaster.
He pushes his pelvis against my ass. Tears sting my eyes, but I stay still.
“Was he good? Were you a good little whore? The kind he likes?” His breath is rank, and it turns my stomach. I breathe open-mouthed as sweat pops up on my skin.
Tears spill over my lashes. “Do you even know where she is?” I whisper.
“Who?” he asks.
“My mom,” I say.
“Hell, no. But I knew that would get you. And I will find out. But you won’t see her. I’ll just tell Frank. And you’ll never see her again because he’ll kill her. That’s your punishment for betraying me.”
He drags me by the arm to the stairs. I could scream. My father’s not the only one in the house. Would one of the guys come?
Not if it’s Pauly Mangia. He’d let Alberto Leone rape me and cheer him on while he did it. And I bet my father would think I’m getting what I deserve. He was no stranger to leaving a few bruises on my mom when they were together and she made him angry. I’m sure I lost any chance of getting his help when I didn’t leave Zoe’s apartment and go straight home with him when he told me to. I saw the apathy in his eyes when I asked him not to leave the room.
More tears burn down my cheeks. I don’t want to beg. I won’t scream for help. I shouldn’t have to.
I climb the stairs silently, with Alberto shoving me forward. At one point, I fall forward, banging my shins and palms. I grab the banister tightly as I rise. I don’t want to fall down the stairs.
I picture the bedrooms, my mind racing wildly. Which ones have windows that open and doors that lock? Alberto pulls me toward the first guest room at the top of the stairs. I grab the doorframe and hold on to slow us down.
It gives him an excuse. He hauls me into the room, throwing me onto the floor. I burn my palms on the carpet. He slams the door shut and locks it. I won’t make it to the bathroom; it’s too far. I dive under the desk and come up on the other side. My hands scramble for anything sharp, but there’s nothing. I can’t even find a pen. My hand slides over something heavy and smooth.
I barely grab it as he picks me up and flings me down on the floor again. I land flat on my back with a crash. It knocks the wind from my lungs and I’m stunned for a moment. He shoves up my dress and drags my panties off.
I don’t move. I concentrate on catching my breath and on the tingling in my arm. I have something heavy near my hand. My fingers stretch. He’s fumbling with his zipper. I move an inch, two. A cool ball of stone is in my hand. The top is like a cue ball, I think wildly. I don’t know what it is.
When he leans forward to force my thighs apart, I swing my arm up, slamming the weight against his temple. There’s a cracking sound and saliva rains down on me. He falls half onto me and half onto the carpet.
I shove at him. He’s heavy. It takes me a moment to get out from under. Then I’m up and running to the other side of the room. I unlock the door and rush out. He could get up and chase me, be right behind me in seconds. My pulse thunders in my ears. I run down the stairs.
I have to get out. I have to—
I can’t catch my breath. I need to get away, but I can’t flag down a car outside Frank’s. The neighbors will tell him. And they wouldn’t even pick me up.
I run to the kitchen and grab keys. I don’t know which car they belong to.
Then I race back to the front and yank the door open.
Outside, it’s cold. I click the key fob and find the car. I use the remote to open the gate. It takes a year for there to be enough clearance.
“Hurry. Hurry.”
Finally, it’s wide enough. I slam my foot down on the accelerator pedal and peel out of the driveway.
It was a paperweight, I realize. That’s what I hit him with. A marble paperweight that was shaped like a globe on top. I remember it now. Blue and green marble.
I drive for fifteen minutes, or maybe twenty-five. Time is fluid. When I’m south of Aberdeen, I tell myself to drive to Boston. But I don’t.
Instead, I go to the compound. I park the car on the street and rush to the gate, immediately pressing the button. Nothing happens. I press it again and again.
