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45
ALESSA
Time stretches like an endless abyss as my eyes stay glued to the wardrobe, each second feels like an eternity. The memories crash over me, pulling me back into the depths of confinement, hunger and unrelenting fear. Hours spent inside echo in my mind, the haunting question of ‘why’ tormenting me relentlessly. What had I done to warrant this?
Even more memories unravel as I remember the one face I trusted with my whole being—the architect of my torment, my own father.
A force crashes into me, hurling me to the floor. I barely notice the agony at my side as something pierces my skin. My mind is too busy transporting me back in time to my three-year-old self. A tear escapes my eye as Tony’s enraged screams fill the air, his spittle landing across my cheek as my gaze remains fixed on the mahogany door. Flawless on the outside, scarred within detail etched in my memory from futile attempts to escape. How could I have forgotten this? How could I not remember the duct tape binding my wrists too tightly? Or the one placed over my mouth because I was crying too loudly.
Tony pushes onto his elbows and slaps me, hard, his aggression escalating at my blatant lack of response. Jerking my face to the side, I let him grind into me as he tells me the things he will do to me. But I don’t hear his words, a metallic resonance drowning out everything around us. And I don’t see his menacing face as I watch the bedroom door with unseeing eyes.
A tear slips past my eye as Tony rips the button of my jeans, the haunting memory of betrayal resurfacing.
Hecame for me.Hehugged me and told me he’d make sure I was safe, and then he left me. Alone and terrified.
A pair of boots thunder past the open door, then comes back, halting in the open doorway like harbingers of an impending storm.
“Alessa,” a voice roars, but I don’t have the strength to reply, so I close my eyes instead, tears spilling down my cheeks as I remember falling asleep inhiscar and then waking up alone and scared, with the jacket he was wearing draped across my small frame.
Tony jerks on top of me, his full weight crushing into me as liquid sprays the side of my face, the pain in my side increasing. The boots draw nearer, and suddenly Tony is gone. His unmoving body pushed away as I’m being lifted into someone’s arms. Orders are shouted and more rushed footsteps sound in the distance as the scent of wood and citrus envelopes me in a tight embrace. I should be able to say something. Move. But there’s no more strength within me. My eyes slide past Tony and back onto the wardrobe.
“Alessa,” his distressed voice pulls at my heartstrings, seeking reassurance. “Are you okay, baby?”
I want to shout back that, no, I’m not okay. How can I be, having remembered everything? But he doesn’t let me answer anyway as he pulls me closer, crushing me into himeven harder. The pain in my side is excruciating now, but I don’t make a sound, powerless in the feeling of sadness.
“L-let’s get you home,” he chokes, and a hollow laugh bubbles within me. I am home. This is the house that belonged to my family. The house he killed my father in. The house my father killed my mother in. And the house he probably planned to kill me in, too.
“You saved me,” I manage to whisper. How many times now?
“I’ll always save you. I swear.”
My head lols to the side as he carries me through a house I don’t recognise. Breathing becomes a desperate struggle, with every door we pass and as we descend the stairs, I can’t help the moan that escapes me.
Dante freezes, his concern etched with a gravity that matches the dire reality that was my childhood.
“Baby, are you hurt?” he asks.
But instead of an answer I want to give him, something metallic fills my mouth, choking me.
“Alessa, fuck!” he jolts me. “Aleeesaaaaa!” His panic screams echoing in the distance, a haunting symphony of despair.
46
DANTE
Ipace relentlessly around the cold, sterile confines of the hospital waiting area, each step echoing around the empty space. The seconds stretch into eternity, and I find myself raking my hands through my already dishevelled hair. The white walls seem to close in on me, mirroring the suffocating anxiety gripping my chest. Alessa is somewhere behind the set of double doors, grappling with a battle that I, for all my power, cannot fight for her.
Images of the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth flood my mind, and I freeze in place, trying not to roar with anguish. Trying not to rip this whole place apart. Not because thinking of the blood makes me feel sick. No.
Because remembering her limp body in my arms, her laboured breathing fills me with an anxiety I have never felt before.
Helplessness can be so crippling—but as long as she’s still breathing, so will I. I can’t lose her. Not now, when she finally came back into my life, dispersing the storm clouds around my soul. Her attitude, covered in sass despite everything she’s been through. MyFata. My sorceress.
“Sit down. You’re scaring the staff,” Angelo sighs frombehind me. I whirl around to face him. How can he even ask me to be still when the woman I love is dyin—
Fuck.
My heart flutters in my chest, unsure of its movements as if it’s afraid I’d get spooked if I got a hint of who it’s beating for. But the joke is on my stupid heart because I knew already, even if I pretended it wasn’t the case.
