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I wanted to go back to being numb, but he was persistent, never leaving me alone.
Alessio.
That was his name. My savior. But he was no longer my savior. I didn’t want him to be.
I wanted him to go away. I wanted to go back to not feeling anything.
I had fought it for so long. I fought him for so long. His voice, his touch, his gentle kisses, his soft blue eyes. I fought to stay numb.
But every day, it became harder.
I still wondered, though. Is it all dream?
Nothing made sense.
Everything was blurry. Everything hurt.
The Devil was no longer here. The Devil wasn’t hurting me anymore.
Only he was there. Alessio.
Whether my eyes were open or closed, he was there. He just wouldn’t leave me alone.
Sometimes, I didn’t know how to feel.
I used to hope for my savior to come. But was he real? Or was this the Devil’s trick?
Alessio’s touch didn’t hurt me. Not like the Devil’s.
No, his touch soothed me. When everything hurt, he soothed me.
He would hold me tight and whisper in my ears. Like he was doing now.
I closed my eyes and refused to listen to him. I didn’t want to hear his voice. His voice brought back memories.
Sometimes good. Sometimes painful. Everything was painful.
Even the good memories. But they didn’t make sense. I was always happy. And in those memories, Alessio was always there.
I hated him. I hated him so much.
I didn’t want him to touch me. I didn’t want him to whisper in my ears.
I wanted to scream.
But I couldn’t seem to find my voice. The Devil hated when I talked. So I stayed silent.
Even when Alessio talked endlessly and begged me to speak, I couldn’t. I didn’t. With my silence, I hoped he would go away.
“Angel, talk to me.”
His voice was both soothing and painful.
I dreamed of you before you came into my life. When I was a little boy, I dreamed of you. Black hair and green eyes, with a beautiful smile. My Angel.
I closed my eyes tightly against the flash of memories. I felt my chest tighten. Every time he spoke, he brought back memories.
I didn’t know if they were real. The piano, the flowers, or even that beautiful river.
He even called me Angel. Just like in my dreams.
My throat closed up, and I opened my eyes. I stared in his blue eyes. I always found myself lost in them.
He had those same blue eyes, just like I dreamed of. He really was my savior.
“Will you play for me, please?” He sounded like he was begging.
Do you want to play?
You can keep playing the piano if you want.
Have I done this before?
“I want to dance with you, Angel. I want to see you smile like before. I still remember that day. You were so happy, smiling and laughing. I can still hear your beautiful laughter as I twirl you around.”
May I have this dance, Angel?
I heard his voice in my head, although I knew he didn’t say them now.
There it was. Another memory that made it hard to breathe.
I felt his lips on my forehead. “I want to see you like that again.”
I closed my eyes against his words. His arms tightened around my waist.
“Look at me, Angel. C’mon, give me those beautiful green eyes.”
Ayla, look at me.
You know I’m not letting you go until you give me what I want.
Don’t ever look away from me again.
My eyes snapped open, and I saw Alessio smile.
His voice was in my head again.
“There you are.” He bent his head until our noses touched. “Don’t ever look away from me again.”
My heart stuttered. Those words—it was another memory. He hated when I looked away from him.
So many emotions crowding inside of me. I was going crazy. Nothing made sense. I was so lost.
But I didn’t want to be lost anymore.
Alessio brought his hand up, his finger touching my cheek. His touch was gentle, the opposite of the Devil’s.
“I’m going to change and then we’ll sleep. Okay?”
He got up, and I closed my eyes again.
You are more beautiful with your hair down.
I opened my eyes again when I heard Alessio. Our eyes made contact. He had called me beautiful.
My skin felt warm, and I felt a strange sensation in my heart. My stomach tightened.
I saw him removing his shirt. He was only in grey pants.
I usually sleep naked, but I thought you wouldn’t be comfortable with that. I can accommodate you with the sweatpants, but I hate sleeping in shirts.
His voice rang in my ears as he walked toward me. I saw him limping a little, his legs dragging behind him.
I felt a sudden surge of emotion. Just like before, when I had seen him hurt.
When I had spoken.
You are hurt.
Seeing him hurt made it painful for me. It reminded me of when I was hurt.
It reminded me of when I wanted someone to comfort me. When I wanted someone to speak to me, to make me feel better.
