Savio
There was something about Alessandra’s singing that reminded me of my nonna. I thought I’d forgotten how she sounded, but it was evident I hadn’t. Each time I heard Alessandra singing, I was brought back to those early years of my childhood, which had been hopeful. They’d given me a time of peace that I didn’t know I’d needed.
Thinking back to those mornings in my nonna’s kitchen, hearing her sing and smelling the wonderful porridge, bacon, and eggs she’d make, was enough to make me want to go back there. I wanted to relive those moments, and I found that her singing returned me to that time. There was a sense of nostalgia in her voice that I didn’t want to go away. I had no doubt that my memories were embellished. It was never perfect. It was simply as close as I’d been to finding real happiness in my life. Things had felt monochrome since.
I wasn’t sure if what I did had been wrong. Had it scared her? Sure. I wasn’t too worried about that. Scaring her then was no different than the night my father and Romeo had decided to kill her parents. There was no doubt she spent most of her day terrified. I did know that I hadn’t hurt her. That was enough to convince me that I wasn’t the bad guy.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted from her—yet. I was attracted to her. It seemed my brothers and I were all attracted to the Bonifacio women in some way or another. I had seen Marcello wandering around the hall downstairs, checking in on the other twin. He was just as curious as I was. It seemed that he was already pushing through with a plan. I had no idea what I could possibly come up with. There was something saddening about the situation. Alessandra wasn’t in the mindset of wanting to be with me. None of the Bonifacio women were. They were being forced and coerced into a type of survival mode.
I liked the company of women who were interested in me. I enjoyed the attention. I craved it. Alessandra was like a defenseless animal, cowering in the corner and shaking from fear. Not exactly what I considered sexy. But her voice was unique. It had a transparency to it like glass. It was both fragile and otherworldly while being calming and familiar. I liked the convenience of having someone so talented, and she was mine. I enjoyed the idea of being able to summon her whenever I wanted. Now that the hard part had been done, she knew that I wouldn’t hurt her.
She would be calm the next time I needed to hear her sing. That was enough for now. The thought of having to deal with her fighting me every step of the way was exhausting. If she was calm and knew that I wouldn’t hurt her, it wouldn’t make things difficult. I hated it when things became a chore.
I just had to train her.
It felt strange, thinking of her in that way, but it was the first time I’d ever had that kind of convenience. My father rarely kept people prisoner beneath the house. He’d built that labyrinth of a dungeon down there, but he seldomly used it. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d planned the destruction of the Bonifacios for longer than I’d suspected. Maybe all he needed was the trigger, which had been Gianni’s death.
I’d go back that evening and take her out to sing again. If I made it a nightly ritual, not only would I sleep better, but she’d become accustomed to it. That was enough.
For three days,I took Alessandra out of her cell and to the shed at the edge of the property. During those three days, no one had noticed. In a sick way, that pleased me. I was getting away with it. I thought for sure someone would figure it out. My father had eyes and ears all over the house, so it was hard to keep anything from him. Sneaking around was something I’d grown used to while growing up. It always surprised and elated me when I got away with it. It meant I was getting better at hiding my secrets from him.
It occurred to me as I brought her hands above and zip-tied them together. I began to stare at the duct tape covering her mouth. She wasn’t screaming, nor was she fighting. She was simply there, as though she were my own personal mannequin. There was no longer any fear in her since the first night. I was glad that she could handle her emotions. I was sure she’d continue fighting until I could convince her that I wasn’t going to hurt her.
Still, I could take more.
Her chest raised and lowered with each breath, and she kept her head up against the pole that stood in the middle of the room. I wanted more from her, no doubt, but I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to do it. It felt wrong.
I wasn’t sure if it was the memories flooding back since I’d heard her sing for the first time. She reminded me of those sweeter moments of my childhood, which I’d taken for granted. She reminded me of the normalcy that had once enveloped my life. It was as though she was the floodgate, and suddenly, my world had been turned upside down. She’d allowed for those sweet memories that I’d unknowingly kept hidden at the back of my mind to return.
It was as though I’d forgotten happiness.
Seeing her perky breasts rising with her shallow breaths caused me to step back. I knew that she was unsure about what was happening. At that point, I usually would have already removed the duct tape so that I could hear her sing.
Her lips were soft, and I always enjoyed taking off the tape more than I should. Whenever I was that close to her, being able to smell her shampoo and her own natural scent, it drove me wild. Each breath would cause her chest to rise, and I found myself staring. I wondered just how small her breasts were beneath her bra. It was obvious she had smaller cups, but they were perky. They were raised even higher when her hands were stretched above her head. I had to avert my eyes, feeling as though I was a voyeur. I didn’t want to make her feel like I was going to hurt her either. Women tended to have that kind of intuition. They knew when they were being stared at in a way they didn’t want.
Still, I was beginning to notice some changes. It wasn’t just that I wanted her body. Of course, her voice was intoxicating—it was like a drug. I couldn’t seem to get enough of it. I simply wanted to hear it all the time, in my head, like a melody couldn’t get out of my head. But there was more to it. I’d met plenty of women in the past, but none had ever affected me as she did.
Something was just different. It was my yearning for her. I wanted to feel her skin against mine, but she was too vulnerable. She reminded me of a woman I’d tried to forget, a woman that my father had forced me to have sex with. That woman had been a prostitute.
I could still remember her cowering in the corner of my bedroom as my father slapped her across the face and against her arms. She’d glanced up to me from behind her hand as though beckoning for help. I’d been young, only about fifteen. There was nothing I could do to help her. My father was adamant since he’d purchased her for me that I had to sleep with her. After discovering us talking instead of having sex, he’d thrown himself on her, slapping and hitting her until she’d ended up in the corner of the room.
My stomach knotted at the memory of how he’d forced me to hit her too. We’d eventually had sex, and I’d lost my virginity that night. Perhaps she was the reason I couldn’t force myself on Alessandra. I couldn’t help that prostitute, but I could help this girl in front of me. It was easy. All I had to do was make sure that no one else touched her. Not even I should.
There was no denying she was beautiful. Both she and her twin were. I’d heard rumors about the Bonifacio girls being pretty, but I hadn’t realized that those rumors wouldn’t do them justice. They weren’t just pretty, or hot, or sexy. They were beautiful. Denying myself the pleasure of being with her was hard. I could have easily taken her at any point. She was defenseless.
But it felt wrong—all of it did. The only thing that soothed me was her voice.
