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I didn't think I would fall asleep, especially with the strange feeling of the dark looking like it was making out images of my father, but at some point, staring at the ceiling and knowing a despicable man like Benedetto was upstairs in his room, gave me a sense of comfort. It's strange. I do hate him for killing my father. But it was strangely comforting to stare at the ceiling all through last night knowing he was up there.
I gulp as another round of tears starts to dance in my vision now that I'm thinking about the corpse of my father I walked in on. There were so many things I wished I had said to him and done with him.
I guess it is true what they say. Sometimes you don't even know you care that much about someone until you lose them.
He wasn't exactly a dream dad, but he was mine. My dad. And that was enough for me. His presence was enough for me. The confidence of knowing I had somewhere and someone to fall back to, someone to take the heat, someone to hold me by the hand, that confidence was enough for me.
But Benedetto has taken that from me. He has taken so much from me. And if I had it in me, I would march up there and take his life from him. But I'm not sure I would be able to even if the opportunity presented itself. And I'm not sure what that makes me.
A tear slips to the side of my face and traces down to my ear. Warm and tingly.
I know it hurts this much because Benedetto did it . I wish it had been someone else. I would have wanted someone else to be at the end of the simmering hate I feel in my stomach, not him. I feel stupid for even thinking this way but, deep down, I'm this sad and infuriated because he did it.
Sociopath.
There's only so much I can take. Being surrounded by mad men dictating my every move is not something I want to keep doing. And today just so happens to be my lucky day.
I pat my damp cheeks and sit up on my bed, feeling motivated this morning because I know it ends today. I'll be far gone before anyone even notices my absence.
I pluck my phone from the nightstand and read the last message on the screen from Carlos.
Carlos: I will be there to pick you up by nine am.
I type back.
Me: Will be waiting.
Carlos and I have been texting back and forth all through last night. I slept after seeing the last message. Even though I refused to open it and reply to him.
I felt like leaving was betraying someone. I want to say it was Lawrence, but deep down I know that he’s not who I feel I'm betraying. And I will be miserable if I admit to myself who it actually is. He is a sociopath and I should be as far away from him as possible.
I toss the phone back on the nightstand and stand from the bed, walking barefoot to the drawer to look for something to wear to take me out of Boston. Something less ridiculous from the sea of hideousness that Evelyn had got me.
I find a white and black motif dress with butterfly sleeves and black ballet flats, that looks as hideous as the rest but suits my mood. And I know Carlos will be more than willing to have me change it when we get to New York.
I stalk into my bathroom to take my last bath here in this fancy cell. I have been allowed to do whatever I want and go anywhere in this cell, although I've never stretched the boundaries. Still, I can't remember ever being told I have any.
I don't waste much time. I didn't even let my hair get properly toweled before walking out of the bathroom with water dripping from it and trailing behind me to the room.
I hurry with the argan oil on my skin, try drying my hair with a towel and then change into the black and white motif dress. I struggle a little with the zipper, and as I'm able to get it to a decent point, I slip into the ballet flats.
I doubt I will be seeing Benedetto this early. I've not actually observed him enough to know if he is a morning or a night person, and honestly, I don't really care. I would really appreciate not see him again for the rest of my life if it were possible.
I pick up my phone from the nightstand and toss it in the pocket of my dress. This is the good thing about these dresses. The deep side pockets feel like they can fit a puppy in them. I prance out of my bedroom, then take careless steps down the stairs. I don't want anything to look suspicious to anyone. I need to be far gone before anyone raises an alarm. And the one person I know would notice my absence quickly is the person I'm going to meet now. Evelyn.
If it were up to me, I would skip breakfast, because my stomach feels closed up. But, if I leave without breakfast, Evelyn will come looking for me and she will pick up fast. So, I need to eat and eat with her. If it's the last time I will be seeing her, she deserves an unannounced goodbye. She made me feel like she truly cares for me.
“There she is,” Evelyn, as expected, smiles louder than her stringy voice, wearing a cream wrap dress and a brown apron tied around her waist. Somehow Evelyn always looks good in her hideous collection.
“Good morning, Evelyn,” I smile back and walk to her instead of taking my seat to be served.
“I'm sorry about your father, Rose,” she gives me an affectionate hug and smoothens her palm on my back to comfort me.
I nod, “It's fine,” I sniff, trying to hold myself from another round of sobbing, because her hug is beginning to feel like my undoing.
We untangle from the hug and she gives me a sad smile before clearing her throat to face the kitchen island.
“What would you like for breakfast?” She points at the varieties of sweets and pastries in their trays.
