The space has been completely transformed. Bright spotlights are dotted all over the ceiling, showcasing the gorgeous indoor garden. Water trickles down a feature in the center of the room, cascading in soft streams like an indoor waterfall. At the base is a small pool of stones. The feature transects the room. On both sides are a multitude of wooden flower beds, brimming with colorful plants. A seating area is tucked into the side with a large comfy couch adorned with an abundance of cushions. Two ornate tables with cast iron legs and marble-tiled tops reside at either end.
One wall has been replaced with floor-to-ceiling windows, letting light in from outside. The sloped side of the garden gives rise to a pretty garden full of colorful shrubs with a gazebo in the middle. It’s not visible from the pool area, confirming Eleanora’s green thumb extends all over the grounds.
The basement is completely transformed, and it’s hard to connect my memories of this hellhole with the way it looks now. Tears stream down my face as I stand mute, drinking it all in as a host of conflicting emotions lay siege to me. The tinkling sounds of water merge with my soft sobs as I expunge some of those emotions. My vision is blurry, the image altering, flashing back to how it used to look and how it looks now.
It's like looking into a crystal ball and seeing flashes of my past while catching my reflection in the glass.
Right now, I’m both of those people. The broken little girl whose dreams were shattered the day a monster stole her from the light. And the woman who clawed her way back from the brink of death, clinging to her anger and her pain, vowing to exact justice from all those who wronged her.
I wonder what that image will look like weeks, months, and years from now. How will my past and present shape my future? I have many challenges ahead and few answers. It feels like everything I thought I knew was wrong, and I’m struggling to adapt my plans in a way that will still give me my vengeance.
The only thing I know for sure is I am a survivor.
I survived this place.
I survived the monsters who ruled over it and me.
And I will continue surviving.
No matter what obstacle blocks my path, I will overcome it.
Because the only constant that matters is survival.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Catarina
“It’s like my past has been erased,” I pant, thrusting my arm out and punching the bag with lethal force. “How fucking dare that woman take it from me!” I swing another punch as Renzo holds the bag steady. “She can’t overlay hell by turning it into a place of beauty. One part of me understands why she would do it, but it’s not that simple. You can’t just forget what happened in that dungeon, and I’m not naïve to believe I was the only young girl that monster caged down there.”
I throw more jabs at the bag before wiping the sweat glistening on my brow. “It’s all a fucking lie,” I seethe, bouncing on my feet as I alternate punches from my left to right fist. “That bitch can’t erase the role she played by covering it up with pretty flowers.”
“Are you even sure it was Eleanora that did it?” he asks, calling time as he steps out from behind the bag, offering me a bottle of water.
I dab at my sweat-slickened face and neck with my towel before uncapping the water and taking a healthy glug. “It could have been any of them, or perhaps it was a team effort,” I admit. It’s been over seven years since Maximo and Primo were killed in the warehouse bombing in Chicago. I assume the garden was only erected after their deaths when Gabriele and Massimo were both old enough to have been involved.
“I think this reeks of something your husband and his brother would do to help their precious mama come to terms with the role she played. Covering over the dungeon means it no longer serves as a reminder of what she failed to do. What they all failed to do,” he hisses, an ugly sneer forming on his face. “Let’s face it. Carlo may have died while you were held a prisoner, but Maximo and Primo were monsters too. I bet they continued his work. They all know what went on down there. They are all equally guilty whether by action or inaction.”
I lean over the bar of the treadmill and hang my head. I’m grateful the owner opened the boxing gym early so I could train with Renzo alone. I don’t need an audience to witness me unraveling.
Since I visited with Massimo’s mother, I have been in turmoil, my emotions veering all over the place. I expected,hoped, to find some kind of closure by revisiting the dungeon, and it’s been denied to me.
Anger is my overriding emotion these past few days.
Anger at having something else taken from me.
But I can’t deny there is relief too.
Mostly I’m confused and scared.
I’m floundering, clinging to the woman I used to be and unsure of the woman I’m becoming.
It’s a strange place to be—this in-between space where I’m caught between the broken girl of my past, the vengeful woman of my present, and the unknown entity of my future.
What I do know is I’m tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of everything being a battle. Tired of always shouldering the responsibility.
Massimo has given me a glimpse into a life where it isn’t all pain and fighting and struggling.
Where I’m not alone.
