All of Lucie’s underwear is laid out on the bed in a grotesque display. And what stains every single piece and the sheets underneath makes me gag. Blood roars in my ears, my stomach roiling with the need to be violently ill, but I can’t allow one more second of her space to be defiled.
I gather the bedsheets, encompassing all the underwear, folding it into a tight ball. I march to the kitchen and get a trash bag, throwing the offending sheets into it.
I take another one and gather more trash, throwing it all into the dark plastic bags, until all the broken pieces of Lucie’s life fit into a few of them. I don’t stop until I’ve taken down the curtains, repaired the beam, vacuumed the whole place and cleaned it twice with disinfectant. The place smells like chemical lemon and bleach. It must have taken me a few hours.
Cleaning doesn’t make me feel better. And nor does finding no microphones or hidden cameras. Setting things right isn’t going to change the outcome.
I order the same clothes Lucie had in her closet. I know all the sizes and brands by heart. I get all the pillows she loved from the same store she got them at. Everything will be delivered tomorrow.
Meanwhile, my head hurts, my brain is scattered. For the first time in a long time, I’m scared. Not for me. I never cared much for life myself. But for Lucie. She deserves a long and happy life. As long as I’m in it, she won’t get it. As long as my brother lives, she’ll never know peace, and I won’t either.
None of us are meant to escape the life we were born into. We’re the progeny of crime and responsible for our parents’ and siblings’ madness. At least I know I am.
My phone chimes and the text I read freezes the blood in my veins, cementing the decision I must make. One that will break us. It’s necessary if she wants to live.
Unknown
Your tantrum has lasted long enough. I’ll spare your plaything when the war hits if you come back now. Otherwise, she’ll be the first to meet my dogs.
Maybe in another life, we could have been happy.
But we live in this one. And in this one, I have one chance to keep her alive when my brother goes for the Venturas and the Morettis. Even if they win, even if they defeat Petar, there’s always going to be a risk for her safety. I won’t live with myself if anything happens to her. Now or in years. My life for hers. That’s what it was always bound to come to.
TWENTY-THREE
LUCIE
The front door closes and Toma leaves me in the middle of a sparse flat across from mine.
His flat.
I suspected he stayed close, even when I didn’t know it was him, and couldn’t see him. Yet, a shiver runs up my spine when I turn and take in the space. I shouldn’t love how far he went to watch over me, how he invaded my privacy and disrespected my boundaries. That’s sick.
Except, Iamsick because I need that level of obsession. My heart makes a little dance in my chest before I’m reminding myself why I’m here.
Someone else has invaded my space but this time, it’s all wrong. I rub my forearms up and down, crossing them over my chest.
Toma’s flat is a simple one-bedroom, with a kitchenette to my left and a sofa to my right that looks uncomfortable. A simple chair is set up in front of the window and I shake my head. He must have spent days and nights seated there, looking out.
Just as I expect, when I take his spot, I can see my flat. His movements are frantic as he moves across rooms with bags of trash in his hands. I’m far away but the frown on his foreheadand his serious expression are unmistakable, and so at odds with his usually laid-back attitude.
I sigh. He’s not going to let me come back until it’s clean and all traces of the invasion have been erased.
I stand and step into the bedroom. The sheets on the bed are dark and thin. There’s no curtains to speak of, and in the adjacent bathroom, only a bottle of 2-in-1 shampoo lay on the corner of the tub, and a toothbrush and a tube of off-brand toothpaste of the side of the sink. Sadness takes hold inside me.
To confirm my suspicions, I get a look into the small fridge, back into the living space. A lone greek yoghurt and a bottle of milk sit sadly in the door.
I fall on the sofa, elbows on my knees to hold my head. The threat against my life, clear in the display of destruction of my flat, should be the thing I focus on. The tears prickling my eyes aren’t for me though.
They’re for the man who clearly believes he doesn’t deserve anything good. All the signs point to self-hatred. There’s no softness in his life. Now that I think about it, Toma’s isolated. He has no friends he can turn to; his brother is a monster. Ever since I met him, his life has revolved around my cousin. He’s dedicated his services to the Ventura name, another victim to my family motto.
Yet, it could become so much more.
Yes, we’re about loyalty and duty and courage. But it’s also about love. About family. About being there for each other when we need it. I doubt he’s ever had that in his life. I doubt he knows it’s possible.
When he comes back to pick me up, I’ll show him.
He’s more than proven himself in the organisation.
