Alessandra
Iwanted to see them all. Being trapped in that room only made me relive those moments when I caught a glimpse of my parents’ bodies on the ground. Then, there was Lucia’s expression—dread. It was how I felt. There was a sense of hopelessness that seemed to trickle into the air with each second that passed. I wanted things to go back to how they were. I wanted to see them so badly that it was as though it had seeped into my bones. It was a feeling I’d never experienced before, and I couldn’t seem to get out of it.
I was silent as I wandered about the room, which would be my new home, though for how long, I didn’t know. It was hard to tell what time it was. There was no light, save for the light that dangled from the ceiling. I could barely tell what day it was. I had tried to keep track of time from when I woke up or when they brought me breakfast, but it had all become a blur. I knew that the life my father had inherited, the life that I was unwillingly a part of, would eventually come with danger, but I never expected it to get that far.
I sat. I got up. I sat again. I slapped my palms over my face and huffed into it. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t let anyone hear me for fear of what they might do to me and the satisfaction that it would give them. I couldn’t let them have that. I got up and paced around the room. It wasn’t a very welcoming room, but it was all I had now. I ate there. I slept there. All by myself, save for my thoughts and my shattered dreams. I leaned my back against the wall and slowly slid down until my butt cheeks pressed against the floor.
My sleep was meaningless because I had nothing to look forward to upon waking up. It was as if I were dead but still had life. My journey had ended, but my legs continued to travel. There wasn’t any word I knew that could perfectly describe what I was feeling. Sometimes, I would press my ears against the walls, desperately yearning for the sound of another person’s voice, but it was always silent. Only the singing of the birds during the day and the crying of the owls during the night broke the silence.
And I was alone.
I had to endure the loneliness, not even being able to interact with the grunts that brought me my food three times a day. I was grateful that the meals were whole meals, and they were satisfying. At least I had that much, though it wasn’t really anything to look forward to. I hated the grunts who brought me my food. They were always rough-looking, and each of them eyed me down as though they were considering something. I didn’t want to know what that was.
My hands throbbed from smashing against the door. I’d done everything I could possibly think of to try to get out of the small cement room. I’d tried to pry the door open, scratched at the walls, and banged against any surface I could find. I’d pleaded for help, tried to sweet-talk the goons that brought me my food, and still, I got nothing. I was trapped.
I desperately wanted to see Chiara. I needed to know that she was okay. I’d never been apart from her for more than a few days. There was no telling what happened to her. I tried to push the thought of her being hurt from my mind, but it was difficult not to focus on it. I had nothing better to do. They hadn’t left me anything in the way of entertainment. I was in complete isolation, and it was driving me crazy.
I got up. I was restless. There was too much on my mind, or more of the same thing going in a never-ending loop. I pushed back my long brown hair and took a seat on the cot. It was hard, and the outer exterior of it was a gray metal. The blankets didn’t cover enough—they barely made it to my feet. It was impossible to remain warm and comfortable, but maybe that was the point. I wouldn’t put it past the Cavettis to want to torture us.
My stomach knotted at the thought.
“Come on,” I whispered to ease myself. “Just relax. Breathe.”
That was right. I had to simply breathe. It was part of the reason singing had always worked for me in the past. The feeling of air entering my lungs to fullness alongside the hum of my throat always made me forget about the difficulties surrounding me.
I could only imagine what they were doing to my brothers. I only hoped that they were still alive. So long as they were alive, there was still a chance that we could all make it out of this. I wasn’t sure how to go about it. Escaping seemed impossible. The latch was on the other side of a heavy metal door, and the men who brought me food looked too hunky and too dangerous to mess with.
I began humming a familiar tune to myself, trying to ease my nerves. It was a tune I’d created a year before and had practiced whenever I was feeling nervous. It was a slow, soft melody that always calmed me. There was only one way I knew how to relieve anxiety, and that was by singing. I had to create songs whenever I was stressed. I tried to think of all those times that I’d taken for granted, sitting at home in my room, creating songs to pass the time. I wished I could go back and really savor those moments. They were now only memories, as were my parents. A tinge of sadness swept over me, and I bit my lip hard enough that it started to bleed. I quietly cried and tried to recall happy memories to console me.
I laid on the cot and hummed softly to myself. It was a song that reminded me of sweet memories, those ones that I’d always taken for granted. At that moment, I cherished them. I had no idea whether I’d ever experience anything like them for the rest of my life. I wasn’t even sure if I’d live to grow old. I wasn’t sure what the Cavettis were planning, but I knew that it might involve killing me. They were ruthless. If they couldn’t figure what to do with me or if they got tired of keeping me here, then their best option would be to get rid of me.
I sat up in my bed the moment I heard footsteps nearing the door. My heart leaped, just as my stomach did, at the thought of food. I’d already had breakfast and lunch. That meant it was suppertime. I assumed that they were feeding me on a schedule, but there was no way to tell. I simply had to guess my way around things. Time was inconsequential, and it was clear that they weren’t interested in having us know the time. I couldn’t blame them. It would be easier to escape that way—if, of course, I was even willing to try. I didn’t want to die yet.
I pushed myself up off the bed and walked toward the door. I waited expectantly, holding my breath. There was a feeling in the pit of my stomach, almost as though a stone had been placed there, weighing me down. I never knew what to expect. Would today be the day that they pulled me out of the room and finished me off? Would it be a meal that I would enjoy? Would one of them force themselves on me?
I tried to push the images from my mind, but they were intrusive, as they always seemed to be. There was no escaping them. I was forced to be alone, and in turn, I was trapped with my thoughts, which always turned dark.
The door opened, which caused my heart to thrum in my chest. They never opened the door to deliver my meals. They simply pushed it through a small slit at the bottom of the door. I took a step back as the door screeched open, listening to the metal scraping along the cement floor. It was a noise that made me feel sick, along with the dread of what was going to happen. I was silent, holding my breath as a shadow formed along the ground, barely visible beneath the crack where the door and the floor met. I formed my hand into a fist as the latch opened, and I immediately felt my heart rush into my throat as tears began to form in my eyes.
It was her.
I ran toward Chiara and felt the breath escape from my lungs as she leaped into my arms. She didn’t smell as she usually did, and her skin was cold against mine. She was thinner than I remembered, and I imagined that I was too. Her already willowy frame felt tiny in my arms as I held her tightly. I didn’t want to let her go. I couldn’t bring myself to.
She sobbed, her tears falling onto my neck as we embraced each other. For that moment, it felt as though the world had melted away. I was safe. She was okay. It was enough just for us to be together. It gave me the hope that I’d desperately been seeking.
“Remember, you only get two minutes.”
His voice was deep as I peeked over Chiara’s shoulder. He met my eyes, which caused me to lower mine. It was him. Marcello. He was the one who had shown Chiara the most attention out of the Cavettis, and now he’d brought her to me. I hated him. I hated them all. I wanted to push down that sense of gratitude toward him, but I couldn’t help but feel indebted to him for bringing my sister to me. He was shifting from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of being caught. He hadn’t gotten permission to bring her there.
I pushed aside my thoughts and held her tighter. It didn’t matter. I had Chiara with me, even if it was just for two minutes. It was enough to add a light to the world that had seemed to dim. Just having her there made the monochrome room fill with color. I was happy, if only at that moment.
I had my sister. She was alive.
I’d never been one to be religious, not like Lucia, but I wanted to outright thank God for Chiara still being okay. She had been in my thoughts so thoroughly the past few days, and I’d feared the worst the entire time we’d been apart. But there she was—safe, without so much as a scratch on her fair skin.
“Are you okay?” I finally asked her, wiping the tears from my eyes.
She nodded lightly and placed her head against my shoulder. I could remember the moments when we were younger. Chiara had always been more cold and distant than I was. I sought out the warmth of people, wanting to be held, even if it was just during a movie. It was strange to see the shift that only a week or more could have on her. It had been years since she’d hugged me so tightly, as though reassuring herself that I was real. I couldn’t deny that I was doing the same. The room felt smaller when I thought of her leaving me alone again.
