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There was a quote on the tiny onesie.I love mom more than dad. Such a Priscilla thing to do.
I thought if I would laugh at this if the circumstances were different. How this onesie would make me feel if she gave it to me while she was still pregnant?
The thought only hurt me more.
“What are you doing here?” My best friend’s voice filled my ears. I couldn’t look up at him from the onesie.
I didn’t want to see that joke. I didn’t want to think how happy this onesie made Priscilla. Because if I did, I knew I was also going to remember I was the reason for all her pain. I was the person who failed at protecting her and our child.
I closed my fist around the fabric and threw it into the trash. Then I answered Salvatore. “Burning memories.”
He looked into the trash and took a gasoline can from the floor. I couldn’t move from my place. I only looked down at that test and that onesie. How could such tiny things mean so much?
After Salvatore was done, he came beside me and stayed. He didn’t say anything. He was just there for me. He was strong for me, so I didn’t need to be strong. I wish I didn’t feel this need to be strong. I wanted to let go.
And his presence helped.
I took out my zippo, swallowed the lump in my throat, and lit it. After only a second of hesitation, I threw it inside. I watched them burn. I watched the memories of the attack, memories of our child burn.
Like it could erase the pain.
My chest felt too tight. Everything in me felt like shattering.
I cleared my throat and, without looking away from the fire, asked, “If I don’t have a heart, why the fuck do I feel it breaking?”
Salvatore didn’t say anything. He only put his hand on my back, giving me his strength, keeping me upright. It didn’t take the pain, but it gave me something to lean on.
My heart broke to a million pieces.
For Priscilla.
For the baby.
And then, for the first time after Rosetta’s death, I felt a single tear fall to my cheek.
Chapter 28
Priscilla
I opened my eyes to a room only illuminated by the occasional lightning. Rain was still pouring. I felt so cold, so alone.
I remembered the anger I had before. I was drained from all of it. I didn’t have any energy. My body hurt less, but my heart still burned. I knew it was not going to get better soon. Yet, this was horrible. The blurry memories of my outburst before I fell asleep were horrible too.
For a moment, I felt so scared that I was alone in the room. The bed was obviously empty. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted those strong arms around me. I wanted to hide from the pain in my husband’s strong body.
When lightning struck I saw his huge frame. He was sitting on a chair next to the bed, half asleep. He looked like a beautiful fallen angel. He was always strong, but I was afraid I finally broke him with my words.
I was too careless.
“Antonio?” I rasped with my dry throat.
He straightened immediately, golden eyes finding me in the dark. “Priscilla,” his voice sounded worried and hesitant. “Do you need anything?”
You. I need you.“Why are you so far away?” I asked with a shaky voice. I knew the answer. I pushed him away. I told him terrible things.
He hated me.
And I still loved him.
