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For a long time, I took her advice literally, and because I didn’t want to die, I never allowed myself to think about it—not too much, anyway. As I got older, I knew that dying inside was a figure of speech, but still, a small part of me is always afraid to tempt fate.
My father and I never spoke of the details. When we discussed it at all, we talked aroundthe tragedy, as he called it. He would have preferred never to speak of it, but my pregnancy made that a challenge.
Antonio isn’t like them. He doesn’t want me to think of rainbows and unicorns to forget what happened. He wants me to remembereverything. He’s not the type of man who shies away fromtragedy,skirting the edges politely. He marches straight into the center, eyes open, and grabs it by the throat until he learns every detail. Everydisgustingdetail. Those were his words.
There’s nothing to do but to tell him. At least I don’t see another way around it. Not if I want to see Valentina.Maybe it’s time, anyway—to tell someone.
A twelve-year-old girl held down and brutally raped.Brutally raped. Is there any other kind?
I ward off the swell of emotion and gather my courage.
“Daniela,” he calls impatiently.
“Give me a moment, please. This isn’t easy.”
“I’ll give you a moment. But time isn’t going to make it any easier.”
It did. Time eased some of it. It blurred the sharpest edges, making it easier for the pain to live inside me without slicing too deep a gash. There have been nicks and scrapes over the years, but I managed never to bleed out.I’m a survivor.
Now, this man,my husband, who has turned on me as though he’s the one who was stripped naked and held down while savages violated him, expects me to bare my soul. To use words to express an evil that can’t be described—only experienced. Words will never do it justice.
I curl my toes around the bedframe, reaching for the carved wooden post for support.
You can do this. You can do this.For Valentina, you can do it.The voice inside my head is my mother’s, woven through mine. Propping me up. Making my own voice stronger. Infusing me with strength. With her last breath,Mamaididn’t beg for mercy for herself. She pleaded for my life. Compared to what she endured that day—what I endured—this is nothing.
They can’t hurt you. Oh, but they can.
I gaze up at Antonio. He doesn’t seem as volatile now. After drawing a large breath, I make the decision to trust him—with all of it. He might prove himself unworthy of that trust, but I’m out of options, and something inside whispers that it’s safe to trust him—or maybe that’s just the sound of surrender.
“My mother and I were picnicking in the meadow beside our house. Just outside the gates.”
His body is rigid, as though he’s bracing for what’s to come.
“Abel Huntsman,” I continue in a hollow voice, devoid of emotion. It’s almost as though I’ve retreated inside myself, but I haven’t. I give my toes a little squeeze around the sideboard, just to be sure.I’m here. “Tomas. And your father,” I add in a whisper.
“No!” he hisses. “No!” His voice booms, as he says it again, and again.
“No!
“No!
“No!”
The word bounces off the ornate plaster walls. Heavy and tormented. The mournful sound of a dying beast. It’s as though I stuck a knife into his chest and twisted, delivering a deadly blow.
Startled by his reaction, I clench the bedpost tighter.
I expected something from him, although I’m not sure exactly what—but it wasn’t this.
Antonio jerks to the edge of the room, clutching the back of his neck with both hands, gasping for a breath that seems to evade him.
I’ve just started. I haven’t even gotten to the worst part of the story, yet.But he’s guessed what’s coming.
4
DANIELA
As the seconds tick on, I’m so focused on Antonio’s reaction that my own fears bleed into the background.
