“Violet.”
“You don’t want me to tell you?”
“No. She can tell me when she wakes up.”
“All right,” she said, glancing at the bed, and then at the side table. She stood, peering down at the open box. “Is that a—”
Her face went pale and I caught her before she hit the floor. Dr. Sala came back in, adjusting his glasses.
“Set her down,” he ordered, pointing to the bed. “Busy night for me.Dio ci aiuti tutti.”God help us all.
Chapter Seventeen
Scarlett
The first thing I noticed was my mouth. I longed for the minty clean feeling of slick teeth. I ran my tongue across my uppers, craving a toothbrush.
The second thing I noticed was that I was back in the sugar cube house, in the room we had stayed in before we left for the private island. Brando sat in a chair that had been pulled directly next to the bed. His back was slumped over, his head on my hand, and his hands around my arm.
An older man with gold spectacles sat in the opposite corner, concentrating on a crossword puzzle, his legs crossed. The few sprigs of hair atop his head were frazzled, outlined by the bright dawn.
Our eyes met, and he smiled kindly at me. When I turned back, Brando’s eyes were on my face.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hey, baby.” His voice was husky, like he needed to clear his throat.
“Who is he?” I smiled at the man, trying to be polite.
The old man’s skin was the color of an Italian green olive, just a tad darker, and his cheeks went the prettiest shade of pink when I smiled.
“I, ah, attended to your head,” he said, motioning to the spot. He stood, placing the crossword puzzle and his pencil down on the chair. “I will fetch some breakfast, yes? Yes.Bene.”
He shut the door on his way out.
I touched my head and the breath hissed out of my mouth.
“Was I attacked?” I looked at my fingers, expecting to see blood. But the wound was crusted over and tender.
He just stared at me. His eyes were solid on mine, and I sensed that he was waiting for me to say something. My heart started to race after a few minutes had gone by, and I still couldn’t imagine what he wanted me to say.
I narrowed my eyes. His lip was swollen.
“Who am I, baby?”
I stood from the bed, stumbling a bit. He made me nervous—frightened even.
He asked me again, except this time he called me Scarlett. I took a step back, right into the side table.
“I need to brush my teeth,” I said. “I just need a minute!”
The morning seemed sudden, his reaction to my waking unusual, like I had never seen the light of day before. My head spun, and I couldn’t seem to escape the whirling. I searched the bathroom for my toothbrush, but none of my things were with me.
He was waiting for me when I opened the door, holding a brand-new toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. I shut the door, breathing a sigh of release when I started to scrub.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I eyed the cut on my head with suspicion. I felt like there was a gap in my mind, and I couldn’t build a bridge to cross it.
What did I remember? Not being here. Not yesterday anyway. That awful place we had been—that private island with all the women and monsters. Monsters…the dance. The request. The room where I got dressed for the “performance.” Violet. Something about Brando’s face…Rocco escorting me. That distasteful man giving me the drink and poking at me like a wild animal in a cage! The cats, panthers—oh, and that effing snake…those men in the second row…and then…
