Alessandra
Chiara’s visits became more frequent. I came to anticipate her visiting me, and each time felt like Christmas morning. It was one of the few things I looked forward to throughout the day. I was desperate for any kind of interaction. Anything, of course, that wasn’t from whoever had taken me the other night. I was sure that it was Savio. I was silent about it, even as I looked into her gray eyes.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell her.
Chiara already had enough going on. Her constant visits from Marcello had me worried for her safety. I was grateful that he allowed her to visit, but it was nerve-wracking at the same time. I desperately hoped she wasn’t lying to me. I knew that she might not want to admit if she were being hurt. I was always overly emotional. I tended to react harshly when it came to her, simply because I always felt as though she needed to be protected. The thought of him putting his hands on her and forcing her to do something made my skin crawl and my stomach churn. I couldn’t bear the thought or the image. If it indeed happened, even if she told me about it, there wasn’t much of anything I could do. It would only make my already horrible situation harder to bear. So in a way, it could be that she chose not to tell me about her encounters with Marcello for the same reason I decided not to say to her about my experience with Savio.
The thought that Savio would take advantage of his progressing visits continued to nag at the back of my mind. It was like a ghost, always looming and weighing on me, a specter that I just couldn’t shake. I hated what I had to be subjected to. If they hadn’t killed my parents, none of us would be in this situation. I could feel the hatred coursing through me, and each time he forced me to sing, it felt as though it was straining my throat, ruining what ability I did have. I was just trying to survive—and I hated every second of it.
I leaned my head against the wall, feeling the cool air grow heavier around me. I tried not to give the thoughts any attention, but it was impossible. Singing was just a fleeting pastime. It wasn’t enough to fully enthrall me anymore. I simply wanted things to go back to how they were.
I jumped at the sound of footsteps. I leaped off the cot and felt a chill rush up my body as the coldness of the floor emanated through my feet. I hated the constant dampness in the air because it always made it feel as though the cold seeped in through my skin and right down to my bones. I wanted to feel the sun against my skin, and I wanted to feel the warmth pulse throughout my body. No amount of hot showers in the small, claustrophobic bathroom attached to the cell ever made me feel warm. Stepping out of it only made things worse.
My heart felt as though it would stop as I heard the door open. I was silent as I waited, anticipating seeing her familiar gray eyes. I nearly tripped over myself when I realized who it was looking at me through a crack in the door. He entered the cell like a serpent, his cold eyes staring me down. I wasn’t sure what to do. He always struck me as being the most dangerous of the Cavetti siblings. He always walked about the room as though he was the only one of consequence, and his gaze was always lowered while peering at others. I knew it from the beginning, and I felt goosebumps forming on my skin.
My body was telling me to run, but there was nowhere to go. I was trapped with him.
Romeo Cavetti closed the door behind him, which caused my skin to crawl. I could feel my heart thrashing in my chest, and I crossed my arms as though that would stop my heart from throwing itself from my ribcage. I knew he could tell that I was frightened. The issue was that I had no idea what he was doing there. He should be with his family, with Lucia. What was the point of being in my cell with me? Unless he had his own sick intentions.
I didn’t want to know, but there was nowhere to go. I knew that if I closed my eyes, I was essentially asking him to hurt me. I tried to shift away from him without curling up into a ball. It was hard, especially as his eyes scoured me, doing his best to size me up.
I took a step back from him, which caused a sickening grimace to form along his lips. He was enjoying the intimidation factor. I wasn’t sure how to react. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of bothering me, but I couldn’t deny that I was afraid. Was he going to take advantage of my body? Beat me? Torture me?
The expression on his face gave nothing away, except that he was enjoying himself.
“Look at you,” he finally said, glaring down at me. “Scared little rat. You’re disgusting. Do you even shower while in here? No wonder no one wants anything to do with you.”
I clenched my jaw, feeling the anger rising in my chest. “Just be glad that the roles aren’t reversed.”
He began to laugh, his laughter echoing in the cell. It was the loudest sound I’d heard in weeks, and I almost wanted to force my hands on top of my ears. He narrowed his eyes at me and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You think your pathetic excuse for a family could ever take on mine? Look at what happened. Poor Mommy and Daddy were shot to death. So sad,” he said, his tone sharp. “You were asleep too long. You didn’t even get to hear their screams.”
It was like a punch to the gut. I felt every blow of those words. I could imagine my parents and see their bodies on the floor, the blood marking up our once beautiful porcelain tiles. I stepped away from him again, wishing that I could disappear. I hated him. I hated them all, and I wanted to see them burn, just as our family had. At that moment, standing right there and feeling afraid of the vile man that was in front of me, I wished I had a bomb strapped to my chest so that I could blow myself up and take him with me. I wanted all of them to die an ugly, horrible death.
“Speaking of screaming,” he said, a sick grin forming on his lips. “You should hear your sister when I shove my dick in her. She’s wild, actually. Way more fucked-up than I’d ever thought she would be.”
I felt bile forming in my throat. I wanted to rush at him and hurt him the way he was hurting me, but I knew it would be foolish. I was too small, too weak, too fragile. Tears formed in my eyes, and I looked away from him, averting my eyes as best as I could. I didn’t want him to see it. I was giving in, all to his satisfaction. The thought of him hurting Lucia made my skin crawl. He was a monster, a filthy monster with no care for anyone but himself. I wondered what Lucia was going through, living with him. It might not be the same as living in a dungeon as Chiara and I did, but I imagined it was close enough.
“It’s even more fun when I hit her. You should see the way she takes a beating.”
“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed, my voice wavering. “Stop it.”
“What’s wrong, dumb bitch? Don’t like hearing it? Maybe I should bring Lucia down and show you how it happens.”
I gripped my hand into a fist. “Don’t you dare!”
He laughed harder. He found all of this funny. Sick fuck. None of it was funny. His mocking and jeering were beyond monstrous. He was repulsive. I felt for Lucia because I knew that she was living in a literal hell, and it was all because he was the one making her life miserable. I didn’t want to think of what he was doing to her, but his images had been so graphic that I could see them in my mind.
“Well, I thought you should know what happens. The way she craves me. It’s hilarious, really. It started out the opposite, but you should see her now.”
“Shut up!”
His hand reached out between us, and I backed away before he could touch me. I didn’t want those hands anywhere close to me. The thought of him so much as grazing his fingers against my skin made me sick.
“You’re just like your sister,” he said callously. “You cry too easily. When I first heard of the Bonifacios, I’d heard that all of you were hard as nails. Honestly, I’m pretty fucking disappointed.”
I shook my head. “You have no idea who you’re messing with. You’ll get yours.”
