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That and the fact that Luca abandoned me. He left me in this room, isolated and engulfed by darkness. I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, my heart pounding at every creak and thump in the night.
Sleep is pointless. When I close my eyes, the nightmare repeats itself, only worse because my attacker doesn’t get interrupted. He gets his wish to harm me in all the worst ways possible, leaving me damaged enough to beg for death, but I never actually get the sweet relief that dying would bring me.
The longer I remain trapped in this cycle of despair, the more my anger festers. I’m furious about the life I’ve been forced into, about the uncertainties that plague my mind. I have no way of contacting anyone, no concrete proof that my mother’s house hasn’t been taken away from me. Justine assures me that everything is fine, that I should focus on my recovery, but she fails to understand that there is no true recovery from something like this. No forgetting the man who attacked me and could reappear at any moment.
I need something, and I hate myself every time Luca’s name whispers through my mind. I hate that I wish he was in this room with me, making me promises I have no business asking for.
The fact that he’s not yet spoken to me since finding me in that private room makes me wonder things that I know I shouldn’t.
However, throughout the last hour, I find myself able to grasp onto the anger that’s been overshadowed by the torment for much too long now. Proof that there’s still a fire simmering somewhere deep within me that can pull me out of the depths of my nightmares. Its silent fury reminds me that this isn’t the end for me. The bastard who violated me won’t take my life away. Someday, somehow, and even if it’s not the same as before, I can find my peace again.
My hope in the darkness, as Justine would say.
When I found that sentiment so touching during our first meeting, I didn’t realize there would be so much fucking darkness.
With newfound determination, I rise from the couch where I have spent endless hours, my eyes fixed on the lifeless television screen. I cast aside the blankets, feeling their weight is no longer comforting but suffocating. I know I can’t stay here any longer. I need to break free, to run, to do something that will breathe life back into my shattered existence.
Without a phone, I don’t know how I’m going to ask someone to let me out. Then again, I’ve never actually tried to leave on my own.
A flicker of determination ignites within me. Justine’s been coming and going as she pleases. Can I simply walk out the door? I don’t know, but I’m damn well going to find out.
Returning to the bedroom, I slip on a pair of shoes, leaving everything else behind. None of it holds any significance anymore. Olivia Danes, the person I used to be, is dead. She no longer exists, not after enduring the horrors of the past two weeks.
As I traverse the living room, my steps quicken with anticipation. There could be someone on the other side of that door, ready to order me back to my confinement. But what if there isn’t? What if I’ve been wasting precious time, believing in the very people who put me in this situation?
My fingers curl tightly around the cold metal handle, my grip tightening as I take a steadying breath. I can do this. I have to do this. I refuse to remain a prisoner, to lose control, to be a victim.
But as I try to force myself to open the door, my body begins to tremble at the thought of being outside, alone. Of that man finding me and following through on his promise to see me “soon.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and press my forehead against the steel frame, counting to ten, focusing on each inhale and exhale. In the darkness of my own mind is the weaker version of me, still rocking back and forth on the couch, unable to leave the safety she’s found within these walls.
“Fuck!” I scream into the abyss. My fists beat against the door, ignoring the slight pain I still feel in the left one that was twisted harshly at the nightclub.
I don’t want to be a prisoner. I don’t want to lose control.
My eyes open, and I stare at my now red hands. “I can leave this room. I’m going to leave this room.”
Even if I don’t escape the compound, I can at least open the door, walk out onto the landing, and see what happens.
I can do this. I have to do this. For me and everything I still want out of this fucked-up thing called life.
My grip tightens on the handle again, and I take another shaky breath, but this time I find the will to twist, to pull the door toward me, and see what’s on the other side.
To my surprise, and if I’m honest, a hint of disappointment, there isn’t anyone waiting on the other side. No guards to keep me in or to protect me. There is nothing but the waiting elevator.
I hesitate, standing just beyond the threshold of Luca’s room, weighing the next step toward my freedom. Ten strides forward and a few buttons to press. That’s all it takes. I could go to the kitchen or the garage or anywhere else, just to prove to myself that I haven’t been completely broken.
But my insides churn with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Each step feels like a piece of me is being ripped away, leaving me raw and vulnerable. All the while, bile rises in my throat, threatening to spill over if I go one more inch forward.
I want to listen to my body, to stay where I’ve yet to be harmed, but if I’m being honest with myself, Luca’s room is not a sanctuary. It’s the place where I’ve been left to fend for myself, abandoned by the man who plucked me from my old life oh so carelessly.
“Fuck you, Luca Monroe,” I seethe into the empty air, a burst of anger mingling with my determination. With newfound resolve, I take that step forward, followed by another and another, until I find myself standing before the elevator, pressing the button to summon it.
I don’t know where I’m going, and I doubt I’ll venture beyond the confines of this building. But I’m done being the pitiful woman locked away from the world for her own protection. If I’m going to endure this, I need to do something for myself, even if it means only leaving the room to find a friend.
As the elevator arrives, I step inside without hesitation, my gaze fixed on the buttons before me. I have no clue where Justine’s room is, so I opt for the first floor, hoping there will be a common area where I might find her more easily.
Justine might try to redirect me back to Luca’s room, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. She’s claimed to be my friend, and now it’s time for her to prove it.
