From the sounds he was making, I could only imagine that he was giving in. I’d yelled out to him what felt like years ago. I’d done my best not to have him admit where our parents kept their treasure, and for him to sign away their accounts. My father had chosen to have his name in his will until Lucia had married – that had been a mistake.
Angelo now had everything he wanted, but he was still continuing to torture us. I’d heard rumors about how the Cavetti’s were – ruthless, narcissistic – general pieces of shit. They were the kind of sadistic fucks that you wanted to avoid. We’d done our best, up until that point, but my parents had led the wolves into our den and given them free rein to destroy everything my family had worked hard to achieve.
Even if I couldn’t see him that well, I knew that he had a sick smile on his face. I’d seen the whites of his teeth too many times between my squinted eyes. There was always a slight chuckle that came from him before he moved on to the next room. He watched sadistically as both of us were tortured.
The thought of my sister marrying into a family sired by someone so twisted made my stomach knot. I doubt she knew exactly what she was getting into – we all underestimated the Cavetti’s. I hated that I wasn’t able to see through their facade. If I’d just been able to help more, none of our lives would have been destroyed. My parents would still be alive.
It was the guilt that hurt more. It was worse than being tortured. It was eating me from the inside, always weighing heavily on my shoulders. When the thoughts appeared in my mind, of what the brothers might be doing to my sisters, I felt bile form in my throat.
I gripped the chair as another surge of electricity rippled through my body. I bit down on the leather between my teeth, feeling the saliva building up around my mouth. I refused to scream. I brought my blurry vision to the man in the corner who was standing there with his arms crossed. I could see my reflection in his eyes as he smiled. My body pulsed with the pain. It was as though my skin was on fire.
I stared deep into his eyes, hoping that he understood – I wasn’t going to break that easily.
The shock lasted for more seconds than I could count, but then he seemed dissatisfied with my resilience and finally walked out of the room. I was left in the darkness of the cell they’d so lovingly provided to me. The only decent part of it was the bathroom – not that I’d been able to shower much. My body throbbed as I leaned against the cement wall. The cool air felt as though it was seeping through my skin and into my bones, causing me to shiver lightly.
My muscles spasmed from the constant shocks, and there were slashes along my back from where I’d been whipped during my previous night’s torture. My head was lulling forward and though I had no sense of time, I had to imagine it was early evening, probably just before five, because the only time it was left quiet when neither myself nor Antonio was being tortured, was when the family had to come together for dinner. It was the only refuge we got, so as much as I hated to fall asleep under the Cavetti’s roof, I closed my eyes, and felt myself drift away.
The sound of the small window on the door unlocking jolted me awake. It felt as if I’d only been asleep for a few seconds, but it had probably been much longer. I rarely ever got anything to eat or drink, so much so that my stomach felt like it was eating itself just for sustenance, so I remained in my spot as it opened.
And then a set of eyes appeared.
A stunning dark brown, with a familiar sparkle to them. I’d seen them before, but I couldn’t quite place it. My mind was a muddled mess of details and memories thanks to my torture.
"Giorgio," a voice whispered. A female voice. Welcoming. Enticing.
I didn't respond, but a few seconds later, a tray was set on the small shelf that jutted out from the window, and even with the low light, I could see the few slices of bread and a glass of water on top. Slowly, I stood up from where I was and made my way toward the door.
Dangling food and then snatching it away was certainly a method of torture I wouldn't put past the Cavettis so I didn't immediately reach out. Instead, I peered through the window to see the person on the other side.
Then the memories slowly came back to me. Flirting at the party and being stunned by that same set of beautiful, brown eyes.
"Natalia Cavetti." I slumped to the floor outside the door, not taking the food. "Is it your turn to bring misery?"
"What about bread and water says misery to you?" she replied. "It's not poisoned or anything. My brothers and father would kill me if I rid them of one of their playthings."
There was a sincerity in her voice that gave me some confidence, but it was laced with that Cavetti bravado, the kind that was difficult to discern.
"I can take it away if you don't want it," she said as she slowly started to pull the tray back. My hands moved on impulse, clamping down on the tray and holding it in place. She hummed, "I thought so."
I took the slices of bread first and shoved them in my mouth. The crumbs that fell as I stuffed myself felt like wasted gold to me, and I did the best I could to recover what hadn't hit the floor. My stomach churned as I gave it sustenance, unsure of what to do with that which had become foreign in recent days, and it only worsened when I chased the bread down with the cup of water.
"They aren't feeding you anything?" Natalia asked.
"Heh," I sputtered out. "Like you honestly don't know."
"I don't. I'm not allowed to know much of what's going on around here," she replied.
I scoffed. "You knew I was down here."
"I have my ways of getting the information I need." She pulled the tray out of the window and sat in front of the door. "You're pretty snippy for someone I just brought food to."
"Yeah, you'll have to excuse me, torture isn't on my list of favorite past times." When I succumbed to the weight of my head begging me to lean it against something, there was much more space between my head and the door and it collided with a resounding clang. "Fuck!"
"Shh," Natalia hissed. "Are youtryingto get me caught?"
"Caught?" I asked, rubbing the back of my head. "Should you not be here?"
"It's like I said, my father thinks it's best if I'm uninvolved."
