Her voice softened slightly.
“We’ve left fresh towels and clothing.”
A pause.
“Take as long as you need.”
They didn’t rush me.
Didn’t speak further.
They simply guided me forward until I could stand on my own.
And then—they stepped back.
Leaving me there.
The door closed softly behind me.
I leaned against the cool tiles of the shower wall as warm water poured down over my body.
At first—it burned.
From the sensation of water hitting torn, sensitive skin.
Then slowly—it softened.
The water turned pink as it swirled down the drain.
Blood washing away.
Layer by layer.
Evidence disappearing in front of my eyes.
I closed my eyes.
Pressed my forehead against the tile.
Let the water fall over my shoulders.
And for a moment—there was silence.
But even then—I couldn’t escape him.
Vincenzo.
His face kept surfacing behind my closed eyelids.
The man who had forced me to kneel on sharp stone until my knees bled—and then carried me when I collapsed.
The man who had ordered my heart to be cut out for his mistress—and then came to save me before the procedure began.
How many more times would he come close to destroying me, only to pull back at the last possible second?
How many more times could my body survive that kind of violence—my mind survive that kind of emotional whiplash?
I stayed under the water until it ran cold.
