06 | unwanted guest

MY WHOLE LIFE—whenever I think that things couldn't go worse—life yells surprise and the next second everything goes downhill.

The ball, the phone, Alessio, haven't left my mind along with his words, I will give you what you want. I am not having trouble believing Alessio but I'm having trouble thinking about what I want.

Do I want to get away from this life? Do I want to leave Gianni? Not sure. I want both of these things but what will I even do after I leave this life behind? I've known nothing but Gianni and his likes and dislikes all my life and without him, I am not sure what my life will be left to.

But those things are the least of my concerns now because my sister–Alyssa, is here. Strolling through my closet looking at all my dresses with that sparkle in her eyes she's always had when she sees something she likes.

My life was never sunshine and rainbows, like the hundreds of fairy tales I've read— it was like a horror story with no light peeking through the curtains and Alyssa was the demon haunting me.

Making everything worse. I'm not sure why she's here but whatever the reason is, it can't be good.

"You have really good dresses," she speaks up holding one of my dresses in her hands. "You got lucky."

Lucky? Definitely no.

"I'm taking this," she says and folds the dress in her arms.

"Yeah you can," I utter without really focusing on anything.

"I wasn't asking," she seethes. Her brown eyes looked me up and down, taking in the sleeveless sundress I was wearing that so blatantly displays the bruises scattered all across me like colors in a painting.

"Just because you think you've got a husband, you are a fucking queen?" She walks over to me and wraps her fingers around my elbow. "You'll always be the girl who wore my discarded clothes and shoes."

Her words are icy—that should've washed over me and cut me deep but now standing in front of her with her hand tightly gripping, enough to bruise—I'm an empty vessel.

They say the more you beat and heat a knife, it turns sharp, into something formidable but I guess I'm an exception because it seems I've dulled even further.

When Alyssa receives on reply from me, her grip on me loosens and she walks away. As soon as the sound of the closet door slamming shut reaches my ears, I fall on the carpeted floor.

Wincing, I try to sit in a position that doesn't include exerting pressure on my abdomen because the things my husband did to me last night still haven't healed. Except for excruciating pain, I feel nothing else either in my body or brain.

Low and muffled sound of a phone ringing makes me jump slightly in shock. Scrambling through heaps of clothes and accessories, I find the little device hidden in the far corner so no one other than me can find it.

Alessio. The name is written on the screen as it rings in my hands. Inhaling and exhaling deep breaths I try to stop my hands from shaking and urge my heart to stop pumping in such an inhuman way but it doesn't stop.

The phone keeps ringing until it completely stops and before I can place it back to where it was, I jump up again as it starts ringing once more.

Deep breaths. One. Two. Three.

It didn't work, with oxygen struggling to bypass the knots in my throat.

With shaky hands, I accept the call and bring it to my ear.

"Hello?"

Long and heavy silence greets me from the other end of the phone. The silence becomes like a heavy weight resting on my shoulder that becomes unbearable every passing minute until I hear the sound of my throat clearing from the other end.

"Nicole." The voice that echoes in every corner of my soul, that makes elicit shivers run down my spine every time used—greets me.

"Mr. Russo." My voice is tiny, meek, and breathless.

"Alessio." He corrects me. "What did you think about my offer?"

You give me what I want and I'll give you what you want, his words ring through my brain for the millionth time today.

No. I should say no because I can't betray my husband. No matter whatever he says, no matter whatever he does, we're married. And I have to make it last.

No. Say no, I tell myself over and over.  But it's like an internal war going between what I want and what I should and like some otherworldly force takes over me—I whisper, "I'll think about it."

Recklessly the words leave my mouth in the form of a bullet being fired from a gun, too deadly, too fast, and most likely to cause unrepairable damage.

"The offer stays on the table for two days and then it's gone. So think carefully."

With that, a beep sounds signifying the call has ended. Resigned, my feet carry me to where I originally kept the phone hidden and I bury it again.

Stupid Nicole. Chanting those words again and again in my brain, I walk downstairs to cook dinner for my husband and the unwanted guest upstairs.