Imogen
The warm water pelts against my back. It loosens the taut muscles but doesn’t unravel the myriad of emotions conflicting within me.
Shades of crimson swirl to the drain along with the body matter of the men Rico killed.
Even living in this dark world death isn’t something I’m desensitized to. It should strike the fear of god in me how callously and easy it was for him to do. Yet I thank god for him doing so.
At least I can find comfort in the fact that my death truly does belong to him. He didn’t lie about that. Somehow it makes it easier to breathe. While under captivity I won’t be subjected to cruelty. A silver lining I suppose.
Not that my pa cares.
I bite my knuckle to suppress the sudden urge to cry.
A pain flares violently in my heart.
I know the crime family means a great deal to him but to learn I mean so little is crushing.
My life was in a fucking game of Russian Roulette and not once did he try to save me.
But the man who is my enemy did.
My life meant more to him than it did my own pa.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to reconcile. Before with forcing me with the wedding I would have held my grievances, but maybe I could have moved past it. Maybe we could’ve passed it. I don’t know. But I know now how much I truly mean to him.
Consumed with devastation I slide down the shower wall and pull my knees close to my chest. I wrap my arms around my legs tightly.
Maybe, just maybe if I physically hold myself I can keep it together.
Except ma’s face flashes before my eyes. How she looked so scared. Broken. Utterly shattered beyond repair.
The first sob wracks my entire frame with a silent cry. The next comes out as a piercing wail. My ears ring. My lungs burn. But the shrill of heartbreak and sorrow morphs into something more catastrophic. There’s an intense need to destroy everything. It rises within me like a volcano.
And I. . .erupt.
My fist strikes against the glass shower pane. At first all it does is bruise my knuckles and vibrate up my arm from the impact.
But I hit it again.
And again.
And again.
Skin busted with blood running down my arm, I hit it once more, numb to the pain. Glass shatters like pouring rain. It all comes down at once.
Heavy footsteps come fast from down the hall. It really shouldn’t be but I feel him before I even see him. The awareness causes the fine hairs on the back of my neck to stand. Goosebumps despite the hot water appear. And my damn heart pounds like a sledgehammer.
He enters the en-suite slowly, cautiously. I sit in my destruction. His eyes roam over me first but not in a lustful way. There’s no heat in his gaze. They’re inspecting. Moving over me clinically to assess the harm I’ve done.
“Gazzella.” The softness in his tone is a shock to my system. “Don’t move,” he instructs.
I want to defy him. Walk across the shards of glass in spite. Spit in his face and dare him to order me once more.
Except I don’t.
He crouches down in front of me and turns the water off. His eyes seek mine. I’m only able to hold his gaze for so long.
Gently, he scoops me up in his arms, careful to not touch me inappropriately. Mindful of the glass he avoids it as best as he can. Then he places me on the double vanity counter.
