Enzo parks the car in front of a motel. He tells me to stay in the car while he pays for the room. He says 'room' and not 'rooms' and that makes me a little nervous. Does he expect us to sleep in the same room? I don't comment because there's a lot of tension as it is, and the last thing I need is for him to take out his stress on me. Those dead mice were meant for one of us, or both. I have no idea who could have sent those, but he definitely knows, he's just not telling me. But I'll pester him until I have the answer. Don't I have the right to know who's threatening to kill me? He returns to the car and slams the door. He peaks right in front of the room he rented. He switches the car off and sits with his hands on the steering wheel. Abruptly, he starts pounding his fists against it. I flinch with every punch. After he's done taking all his anger out on the steering wheel, he opens the door and slams it shut again. He walks to the door and unlocks it, leaving it wide open. I clim
I clean the room and try to smooth the wrinkles of my dress down. I don’t like looking unkempt. It makes me feel like I’ve lost control, and if there’s anything that I can control it’s my physical appearance, if I can help it. But that’s not entirely it; I’m doing this so I don’t look at the empty spot on the bed and think about what happened last night. I then wash my face with cold, cold water to stun last night's events out of me, and brush my hair with my fingers. Despite not having a brush or comb, it still looks flawless. I’ve never seen my hair like this. It’s incredible what a professional hairdresser can do. Enzo is taking an eternity to return. I have no way of communicating with him. No phone, nothing. Well, there is a phone here in the room, but who would I call? I don't have his number. All I can do is sit here with my grumbling stomach and wait for his arrival. I can't believe that he kissed me last night. In fact, that whole scene is a little hazy so I'm left wonder
"What do you mean by with us?" He smiles smugly. "I mean that you'll be staying with us, the Puglia family. You'll find that we're very accommodating folk. I guarantee you'll have the time of your life."I sink into the seat. I wish it would expand and swallow me whole. I get the sudden urge to unlock the door, and jump out of the car. Time of her life? How am I going to have the time of my life living with the people responsible for my family’s death? I tell him weakly, “You've got to be joking."He turns and shakes his head solemnly. "I'm afraid it's the truth. Enzo spoke to me this morning and asked the favor personally. It's safer. That way, the de Luca brothers won't get to you."It takes me a moment to process what he's saying to me. This isn't a joke. I'm going to be living with the Puglias, with this man Enzo doesn't even trust. It feels so surreal that my head spins for a beat. I feel nauseous suddenly, like I might throw my guts up. Meanwhile, he keeps both his hands on the
I open my eyes and daylight is flooding the room.I sit up quickly and look around for a clock so I can figure out what time it is, but I find none. It's disorienting, waking up in this strange place, surrounded by people who despise me. I climb out of bed and step on one of the bags. The sight of all of them makes me depressed. How am I supposed to deal with all this? Where will I even do my laundry? I fish a pair of dark washed jeans from one of the bags and the only top that isn't excessively wrinkled. I get into the shower and blast the hot water. There are tiny bottles of shampoo and body wash in the shower, so I use those. I completely forgot about the ones I bought the other day; they're probably still in one of the bags. The shampoo dries my hair out and so does the body wash. I let out a frustrated sigh. I wrap a towel around my body and tiptoe back into the room to look for the ones Enzo bought. Bastard. I hate to think of his name. It fills me with a rage that I can’t qui
I turn around slowly.Giotto is standing a few feet away from me. He's stroking a black cat with iridescent green eyes. I press my lips together and gaze at him. He smiles politely, but there's a darkness in his eyes that I've come to know all too well. It’s the intent to harm, and manipulate. Humiliate. There aren’t enough words for everything that he is capable of. After a long moment of silence, he says to me, "I'm waiting, my dear. It is very rude to not greet the owner of the house."I lick my lips. They're numb all of a sudden. I force them to move and look at the carpeted floor. My heart is racing in my chest. I’m sure I’m perspiring all over my body. Rage is coursing through me, and I feel ready to explode like a volcano. He’s doing this on purpose, of course he is. He wants to see how far he can go with me. He will test me to my limits, and then laugh about it later with his ridiculous friends who find pleasure in destroying the lives of innocents. She bites out a, "Hello."
Three whole days have passed, yet it feels like it's been at least a month. Enduring the Puglias isn't an easy task. They're terrible people, always looking for someone weak to take advantage of. They take pride in being sarcastic and ill-tempered. When I say the Puglia’s, I mean Giotto and his daughter. Gustavo is the exception, as ludicrous as that seems. It's evident that he can't stand them, for the obvious reasons. I still can't believe that his own wife has an open affair with his father, and everyone around here seems to think that it's normal. They'll hold each other with affection in front of the staff, and no one looks twice at them. I personally came across them in the corridor. He was kissing her tenderly while holding that cat of his. I turned on my heel and marched to my bedroom. The sight of them makes me sick. I feel sorry for Gustavo. I don’t know how he can endure this. I believe that he hates his father, and I think that perhaps he hates him more than all of us. H
I use my fork to move the food around the plate, so I can create the illusion that I'm eating when I haven't had a single bite. I know it's bad. My mother always taught me to never play with food, it's disrespectful. I'm aware of all this, but whenever I'm surrounded by the Puglias, I lose my appetite. It isn’t my fault, it just happens. And it has been this way since I got here, and I don't think this feeling will ever pass. It’s the disgust that I have for Giotto, and while I hate him and wish him ill, I’ll never be able to sit at his table, and eat his food. Everyone's silent. If Giotto doesn't say anything, then no none will. Gustavo takes a few bites of his food, but he never eats much either. I guess we're both in the same boat. We're both here out of better options. It’s good to have someone to have something in common with. Rather, it justifies my feelings. For if his son hates him, how can’t I?Giotto looks up and clears his throat, "I have an announcement to make. Tomorrow
He starts to say, "Chiara-" but I don't know what takes over me. I slap him right across the face without letting him finish his sentence. He doesn't look stunned at my violence. In fact, he doesn't react to my slap at all. He just barges into the room, and closes the door. He points me, "That was entirely unnecessary.""What are you doing here?" I say, trying to keep my voice down. "After all this time, you have the audacity to come here and have me act as if nothing happened?"He looks genuinely confused. "Did you expect me to leave you here for all of eternity? In any case, I'm not here to get you. I'm just here to check up on you."I scoff. "You shouldn't have bothered, Enzo. I'm doing just fine without you, living under the same roof with the man who killed my family!" He places a finger over my lip. "Are you trying to get yourself killed!? And don't look at me with so much accusation, girasole. I did this to protect you."I feel like crying. I'm so angry that I could scratch hi