Satisfied with my plan, I focus on putting one foot in front of the other—a limp developing because my left foot has hit more sharp rocks than the right. I continue running for what I estimate to be another five minutes, but it’s hard to tell.
I’m getting closer to the lights of Palermo. I think about seeing my parents again, my siblings again, and going home. Far, far away from this horrible place. My family won’t have to pay the Ferraras any money anymore—they can cut ties entirely. My last thought is wondering if I can get my coaching position back last-minute for my high school girl’s tennis team.
A sharp, prickly pain in my left foot ruins all of those optimistic thoughts. I can’t mask my scream as my knee buckles and I go tumbling down. My bare legs scrape against the ground, and I can feel the pain from the fresh cuts and bruises forming already. My gun has flown a few feet, so I crawl and gather that before dealing with anything else, and besides—I’m too afraid to check what I’ve stepped on. I know what it could be, and I know it’s still attached.
I catch my breath, eyes fixed upwards towards the castle, but there’s no sign of Alessandro. Hell, maybe he didn’t even follow me and their plan was to catch me at the bottom of the hill.
I take a deep breath and finally gather the courage to look at my foot. And as I suspected, a small cactus is stuck in it, going along part of my arch and stopping just before the toes. I look away quickly, feeling a sense of vertigo.
“Fuck…” I moan when I realize I have to pull this thing out myself. I sit up, trying to look at it only from the corner of my eye, then reach my fingers near the cactus, bumping it. I fight the urge to scream when I realize how far into my foot some of these needles have gone.
The sound of thrashing startles me, and it’s coming from the direction I came from—it has to be Alessandro.
I crab-walk further off the trail, trying to find a place to hide. But I’m so slow with one leg dragging and one hand holding the gun.
The footfalls grow nearer.
I hate this full moon. I hate that I wore a bright dress. I’m probably not hidden at all.
It turns out I’m right as Alessandro stares directly at me from the trail.
“Stay back!” I yell, my hands shaking as they grip the gun.
He holds his hands up but doesn’t follow my orders, taking slow steps towards me. “Sofia? Neither of us has to die today. Believe me. Marco is only fucking with you.”
“I said, stay back!”
I don’t want to hear his excuses. He pauses for a moment and then continues walking towards me.
“Now…”
I aim a bit to his right, firing the gun. The loud pop echoes through the night. The gun recoils in my hand more than I would have expected, almost making me drop the thing. He curses and drops to the ground, breathing heavily.
“Sofia? Please! Listen to me.” His eyes look wild as they fall to my injured foot. “You’re hurt. Let me take a look at that.”
“No! Get the fuck away from me! Back up!”
He stands frozen for a beat. I can see the gears turning in his head, and then he continues his slow march forward. “You don’t want to do this, Sofia. Shoot me? Do you know what happens to someone when they get shot? It’s not like the movies.” He chuckles. “The standard 9mm like the one you have in your hands—it won’t kill me immediately—unless you’re an excellent shot. Which I know you’re not from the way you’re holding it.”
I shoot it again. This time the bullet flies even closer to him. I don’t even know whether I intended to hit him or not. I’m toocornered to think. He instinctively ducks down again only to pop back up.
He pauses with a look of disbelief on his face before he continues on. “You’ll likely hit me somewhere in my abdomen or maybe a leg. But I’ll keep coming closer to you as I bleed out. The thick blood oozing out of me, looking absolutely black in this lighting.”
“Shut up!” I realize what he’s doing to me, and the rushing feeling in my head is telling me it’s working.
“Or maybe you will kill me in the first shot or two. Take a guess at how quickly a body defecates after taking its last breath. No matter how many people I’ve killed or witnessed killed, something I never get used to are the eyes…”
I’m nearly hyperventilating as I tune him out, my hand violently shaking so much that I don’t know if I could successfully hit him even if I wanted to. I continue to slide myself away the best I can, but he’s approaching me quicker than I’m crawling away. Eventually, his feet are right by mine as he looms over me.
“Please set the gun down and let me help you.”
I hesitate. He’s so close to me I bet I could kill him despite being a bad shot. A shot to the face, right between the eyes. Then I think of all the things he said to me and drop the gun.
I bury my face in my hands. If it weren’t for this phobia, he’d be dead and I’d be one step closer to escaping. But phobia aside, I don’t think I’m capable of killing anyone.
He squats down so he’s eye-level with me. He wipes some sweat off his forehead with his sleeve before reaching for my leg. Instinctively, I jerk my leg back, but he moves forward and grabs hold of my calf. “Look away, Sofia.” His voice is gentle—a tone I’ve never heard from him before.
I do as I’m told, stifling a small squeak as I feel the cactus getting pulled away from my foot. He tosses the thing to the side. “Not much blood.” He stands up and starts unbuttoning his shirt. I look at him questioningly. He said there wasn’t a lot of blood, but was he lying for my sake? Maybe I need a tourniquet. I swallow back vomit.
