“Nothing about you makes sense. Nothing has made any fucking sense since the moment you hunted me down and brought me here to this,” she says, looking around. Hands up in the air, as if she is admitting defeat.
Not yet, mi reina, we are so close.
“So, what is it? Do you get some sick pleasure out of stalking ex-girlfriends of the men you murder?” She is sobbing as she walks toward me and starts pounding my chest in anger. I stand there, taking every blow of her fist, every tear splashing in my direction. I take it because I deserve it. I unintentionally caused her a pain I never intended for her or me. I was only trying to save her.
I continue to stand there as she is pounding her fists into me until she finally collapses into my chest. I stand there stiff, not wanting to make a single move that will throw her off.
“What, are you fucking dead? Say something, you fucking prick! You owe me at least that,” she mumbles into my chest, her voice muffled from her tears.
“I owe you much more than what my words can attempt to explain,” I finally say.
“You are a fucking soulless bastard, just like your father, my father, every man in my fucking life. Every man, except for him,” she says, wiping away her tears.
“Who, Leo?” I ask, looking down at her, grabbing hold of her chin.
She steps back, loosening my hold on her perfect fucking face. “Don’t you dare say his name, you don’t get that right!” She slaps my face.I deserved that.
“Take the pistol. Go ahead, finish what you came here to do,” I say in defeat.
She looks at me, confused. “What? You’re not even going to try to defend yourself, explain yourself, anything?”
“You didn’t come here for explanations; you came here for vengeance. That look in your eyes, Sienna, I know that look all too well. That is the look of a lover so scorned, so broken that having the blood of the person who stole the one in your life that made you feel less broken, even for a split fucking second, is worth whatever consequence may come of it.”
She stands there, not expecting my bluntness, perhaps, because she is momentarily frozen. I, too, feel frozen, stuck in a position I never wanted to be in …her enemy. I wanted to be her refuge, her safe space, her lover, her greatest conquest. Yet, somehow, we ended up here in this bleak, cold, fucked up place.
“So, go ahead, Ms. Ricci, try to shoot me,” I say, with my hands up in the air.
“I’m a good shot. Be careful what you wish for,” she tries to steady her voice through her tears as she reaches for the pistol.
“I do not doubt that the daughter of Matteo Ricci is a good shot. The only thing I doubt is that you’ll be able to pull the trigger.”
“You are contradicting yourself.”
“Having the ability to do something and actually doing it are two different things. Ms. Ricci.”
“I’m going to kill you Carmine Moretti. Shut the fuck up,” she says as she slaps my face again.
I stand stoic.
“You are fucking unbelievable, say something, feel something! Goddamn it. Killing you almost seems pointless! Feel something, you fucking piece of shit.”
“Why? because I am already dead inside?” I ask her.
“Well … yes. I figured you would beg for your life, something, anything. But clearly, you don’t give a fuck about anything or have an ounce of remorse.”
“If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already.”
“No, I am waiting,” she says.
“For what?” I ask, curious as to what she could possibly be waiting for when her opportunity is ripe.
I watch as she walks to her purse. She bends down, a fucking magnificent sight. She picks up something and remains bent, facing the pocket doors that remain half shut.
Her grip still firmly on the gun, she turns around with whatever she just took out of her purse. I am so lost in watching her that I almost miss what she is holding. I study her eyes, still damp from emotion, as she peers down at her hands. I then follow her gaze. Immediate horror fills my soul when I see what she is holding.
I realize then that only one of us is going to make it out of this room as we entered it.
Rest In Peace, Carmine Moretti.
