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Chains hang from hooks on the walls.
Shivering, I wrap my arms around myself.
It's cold down here.
And so quiet.
All I can hear is the drip of water and the rasp of my own breathing.
What is this place?
A torture chamber?
The toe of my shoe collides with something solid.
I look down. A torture board and beneath that,a dark stain spreads across the floor.
My stomach lurches.
I know that rusty color all too well.
Blood. Old, but not forgotten.
This is a place of pain.
Of suffering. Of secrets I can never unsee.
I feel sick to my stomach as the realization dawns on me that I'm standing in a room built specifically to torture people.
This room is in Anthony's cousin's safehouse.
There's a safehouse.
A need for a safehouse.
Suddenly, a question arises.
Does Anthony have a torture chamber in his house?
The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
No, I can't believe that.
Anthony would never be capable of something so barbaric.
But, he's in the mafia.
What if it's something he has, whether he likes it or not.
Bile rises up my throat. I swallow, and hold back the nausea. I'm pregnant. With a future Don's child.
Is this the life I want for my child?
To grow up in a house where the basement is filled with men moaning and screeching in pain?
No. No way.
For a while, I had been toying with the thought of loving the good sides of Anthony.
