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“Bella mia,” he murmurs against my mouth and his words of possession are like touches fingering my pussy and increasing my pleasure.
“Yours, sir. Yours...” I groan in confirmation, feeling like I'm about to split in half and refusing to close my eyes.
The dilated pupils make Vittorio's eyes take on a deep tone. My breasts jiggle with each slow rise and torturous descent. I push myself further against Vittorio, rubbing our sweaty skin together until the last thread keeping me suspended over the edge of the cliff snaps and I come.
The orgasm is intense, dismantling me completely only to put me in place when Vittorio roars and I feel his cum being completely emptied inside me. And on any given morning, in any room, in a single moment, I feel, again, free, completely free.
***
Vittorio's thumb catches the tear running down my cheek, but it's no use, because another soon follows, and then another, and another. It's impossible to control them as, through the tinted glass window, I watch the scene unfolding outside the car.
Raquel is sitting in a square, surrounded by other girls her age, her fragile appearance is still attached to her body, but she is smiling. Laughing, actually. I don't hear the sound, but I imagine it in my head and that's enough for the last weight that kept my heart from floating, to slip away.
She is alive. My sister is alive and well, and I can't look away, but I also can't move, I can't open the door and leave.
“What can I do?” I ask Vittorio, but without looking at him. Sitting next to me in the car, with one arm around my waist and the other resting his hand on my thigh, he kisses my neck.
“Whatever you want, Bella. I told you; you could choose.”
“I don't know what to choose,” I confess.
I know what I want. I want to get out that door, cross the lawn between Raquel and me in a desperate run, grab my sister and never let her go. But how much would that cost her?
“How long ago did you find her? How is she? How is her health? Where we are?” The questions leave my mouth in a haphazard sequence.
“I found her two days after you were taken. She is doing well, starting new treatments that will greatly improve her quality of life. We are in Chicago, Illinois, in the United States of America.I asked for her to be brought here so you could see her as soon as I found you.” I sigh, my heart vibrating for Vittorio's care at the same time as it struggles, full of doubts.
“I don't know what to do,” I repeat. “How is she talking to other children?” I ask, mesmerized by the scene. Raquel looks so happy, so serene. “What does she think happened?”
“This is a Brazilian neighborhood. Most people who live here speak Portuguese,” Vittorio explains, and I nod, understanding. I look at the space around us, paying attention again.
I observed every detail I could as we crossed the paved streets heading towards a destination, I didn't know what it would be. Vittorio refused to tell me until the car parked. The neighborhood is a pretty collection of bright houses with low white fences, green trees, and charming gardens.
“Is she going to live here?”
“If you want, yes,” he declares, and I turn my face looking for Vittorio's gaze. “Raquel thinks she was found by a distant aunt who will take care of her from now on, that woman over there.” He points to a woman with dark skin and curly hair sitting on a bench, watching Raquel with obvious zeal. “She is an associate of thefamigliawho lives here in Chicago. Tássia had a daughter Raquel's age, she lost her to cancer two years ago and was happy to welcome your sister. If you want, Raquel can have a life here,” he says, lifting the hand that was on my thigh to brush his thumb against my cheek.
“What if I want my sister in Italy? With me?”
“Then you will. All you need is to tell me what you want,bambina, and I'll make it happen. But you need to understand that taking Raquel to Italy will mean that she will become part of the Sagrada. Here, away from everyone's eyes, she will be protected and guarded, but she will be able to have a life closer towhat she knows as normal. In Italy, she will become a daughter of La Santa, and an important one. She will be Don's wife's sister,” he says, and I also perfectly understand what Vittorio doesn't say.
Here, my sister will be free to make her own choices, not in Italy. Here, my sister will be safe due to her anonymity, not in Italy. Here, Raquel can have the life I always wanted for her, in Italy, she can be happy, but it will be completely new perspectives. She will be forced to accept receiving and delivering the same things that every person who seeks La Santa accepts giving and receiving: pain and violence.
“You can be selfish if you want,amore mio,” Vittorio says as if he could read and interpret the beats of my heart.
His permission makes my chest swell, filling with air, but I don't hold on to the sensation, because I know Vittorio's words may be true about everything, but not about Raquel. I can't be selfish with my sister, and this is a pain that I don't think will ever go away.
“What does she believe happened to me?”
“She believes you were kidnapped.”
“Ca-can…” I start to speak, but sobs break out in my throat, preventing me from concluding my thoughts. Vittorio pulls me onto his lap, and I bury my face in his neck, falling apart even though, for now, the words I was about to say live only in my thoughts.
“If I le-leave her he-here, will I be ab-able to ac-accompany her from fa-far a-away?” I change the question, but even though the sensation of suffocation remained with the other, this one carries a pain similar to what I think I would feel if my body were being split in half. Vittorio unclasps my neck from his shoulder, bringing my gaze to his.
“You can do whatever you want,” he repeats the statement, and his eyes tell me that he knows what question I don't want to ask, but he keeps waiting for me to ask it.
“Can we,” again, I'm interrupted by sobs “c-can we ma-make her be-believe I’ve d—” a painful cry cuts the word in half, and I force myself finishing the question, still “di-died?”
