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I don’t care how it happens; I will have my revenge.
9
Celia
My ears still ring from the gunshot, a sound that lingers in my mind and will probably do so for a long time. I watched the bullet whizz through the air and embed itself into Marco’s skin. His pained cry should probably have bothered me more, but after the words he said, his pain didn’t touch me. My sympathy for him withered away with the hopes of him coming to save me.
If I’m being honest, I wasn’t really that surprised by what he said. I knew what our relationship was from the start. We weren’t going to fall in love and pop out a few kids, but for some stupid reason, I got it into my head that there would be some type of respect between us. A mutual understanding about the ridiculousness of our lives. From that, I could have built something. Now there was nothing to build. I’m at rock bottom, grasping at anything I can to pull myself back up.
As much as I try to block it out, I can’t forget the way Marco looked at me. Even in pain, the disgust had been there, plain as day. Anguish ripples through me. I feel so stupid. Why hadn’t I seen it before? Maybe I just didn’t want to. Maybe I wanted to hold on to the sliver of hope of having a better life after I left my parents’ home.
I don’t know what Nicolo did to him after they carted me away, but something tells me it’s not good. He was already in bad shape when I left, and Nicolo definitely isn’t the forgiving type. Death will be kinder to him than Nic ever would be.
Time ticks away like a bomb waiting to detonate. I pace across the room, checking the door again, hoping by some miracle that they left it unlocked this time. It’s not, but I spend a moment pressing my clammy forehead against the cold wood and grip the handle tighter, willing it to open for me.
The door handle rattles under my palm, and a gasp escapes through my parted lips. Like a skittish newborn calf, I skitter away until the bed comforter brushes the back of my thighs. I expect him to walk through the door, but when I see that it’s just the housekeeper, Sarah, I let out a sigh.
As always, her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, her features set in a scowl. She refuses to meet my eyes as she sets a tray on the bedside table. “Some water and a late-night snack. I’m sure he’ll be up to talk to you soon.”
Her words make me flinch, dread bleeding into my veins. I don’t want him to come to me with bloodstained hands and gloat. All he is going to do is rub in my face that even my fiancé thought I was trash.
“Could you at least not lock the door,” I ask her as I take a step toward the door. “I know this place is guarded. So I won’t try to escape. I just want to walk around the house. No one would even know it was you. It can be our secret.”
She snorts. “That’s unlikely. Considering I’m one of the few who has the key to your bedroom. He would kill me for it without a second thought.”
I knew it was a long shot. Still, disappointment engulfs me as she walks out without another word. A shaky exhale escapes my lungs. I don’t know why I thought she would give me the chance to escape. I belong to him now, and everyone in his little private fantasy world bows to his whim, too afraid of what might happen if they step out of line. Either that or they simply don’t care.
The simple wood tray she set on the side table draws my attention. It’s loaded with a couple bottles of water, and a plate of fruit, with various nuts and cheeses. What the fuck kind of place is this? Do they think I eat like a Disney princess… nibbling on berries and fruits like it will actually sustain me? What I wouldn’t do for a double bacon cheeseburger right now. And fries. And a coke. Two cokes.
Saliva builds in my mouth at the thought. I may never have the luxury of those foods again. No, I can’t think like that. Like a gnat, I swat the thought away, and in no particular order, I eat the only food I have. I keep shoveling the food into my mouth until there’s nothing left. I’m not surprised when I finish chewing through the last mouthful with a grimace that I’m still hungry.
I wash down the offending combination with one bottle of water. I’ll save the other in case they forget my existence again for a while. I remind myself to be grateful, that I’m not in that cell in the basement, that he hasn’t hurt me beyond the humiliating way he used my body. There is still hope, and I’ll hold on to it until the day I die.
