As I enter our apartment complex, I’m climbing the stairs when I suddenly hear Roberto shouting.
“Where do you think you’re going, girl? Give me back my money, you thieving whore!”
Without thinking, I run up the stairs faster than I thought I could. When I reach the third floor where our apartment is, Roberto is holding Chiara tightly by her wrist. He backhands her with his other hand, making her fall to the floor.
I rush to Chiara’s side, placing myself between her and Roberto. Then, I gently hold her face to check if she’s okay.
This is the first time he has ever touched her.
Is it because I wasn’t here?
Guilt settles in as I search Chiara’s face, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her right cheek is red, but it doesn’t look like he broke her skin.
“Are you okay,piccola?” I whisper to her, and she nods in response. “Go to Monica’s,” I tell her, but she shakes her head.
Just as I stand and reach a hand out to help her get up, Roberto forcefully slams me against the wall, his hand gripping my throat.
“Lina,” Chiara cries out.
I manage to wheeze out, “Go!”
She runs down the stairs, and I’m left facing a furious Roberto.
He shouts at me, his spit landing on my face, “Your sister, that little bitch, stole my money!”
I want to respond, but the pressure on my throat leaves me unable to speak or breathe. Roberto seems to realize it too, and takes a step back, releasing his grip on me.
Clutching my throat, I manage to croak, “I’ll get you more money,” as I slowly retreat toward the stairs.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going? I want my money now!” he shouts, following me.
The problem is I don’t have any money on me, and the situation is about to escalate. In a panic, I turn and sprint down the stairs. But I find myself much slower than Roberto with his longer legs. On the second floor, he catches up and grabs hold of my jacket, halting me in my steps.
“You worthless pig, just as useless as your father!” he spits out.
Before I can process what he just said, he shoves me down the stairs. I tumble, and a sharp pain shoots through my body so I cry out with each impact. Each step feels like a brutal hit, shaking me to the core. I desperately try to steady myself, reaching out for something to stop my fall, but it’s no use. Ibarely hear Roberto’s laughter before I feel a heavy thud as my head smacks against a step, and everything goes black.
Sophia huffs next to me.“I thought girls are the ones who take a long time to get ready.”
I chuckle. “You know Clay, he’s quite vain.”
I hear Xander snicker, and when I turn around, I see Clay frowning with his arms crossed. “Excuse me? What did you say?” he asks, sounding offended.
I grin. “Oh, come on, we all know it takes you hours to style your hair like that.”
“Not everyone can pull off the I-don’t-give-a-fuck-how-I-look look as well as you do,” he counters.
In response, I stick my middle finger up at him.
“Cut it, boys, or we’ll be late. I don’t want her to think we stood her up,” Sophia warns, and we grab our shoes and jackets to head out.
I can’t stop thinking about last night. I feel like a lovesick teenager. The moment I held her in my arms after what we shared, I realized the years I spent waiting for her were worth it.
I push my way to the front door, and Clay chuckles teasingly. “Someone’s eager.”
I grin as I open the door, ready to step out. But as I turn, I’m surprised to see Chiara standing on our doorstep, her hand raised as if about to knock. Her face is flushed and stained with tears.
“Chiara? What’s wrong?” I ask.
