Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I would take the place I was destined for. I would rule over this city. I would stand loyal by Remo Falcone’s side and ruin our enemies. He had given me back my purpose. He had given me Lamorgese, and for that, I’d always be grateful.
Among the clothes Nino had handed Amelia were a black shirt and black jeans for me. They must have been his or Remo’s, considering the pants weren’t too short for me. I was taller than all the other men, except for the two Falcones. I didn’t put on the shirt. I didn’t like the feel of the fabric on the many scars on my back and chest. I liked the feeling of air on them. I wasn’t ashamed of them, even if they were proof of my weakness. They were also part of my strength because I had survived.
When I returned to the bedroom, Amelia remained standing in front of the window. Her strawberry-blond hair curled at the ends as it dried in the air. She looked petite and young. She looked so much younger than the two years that separated us. One day, she’d be my wife, but not yet. I needed to make sure my enemies were dead or as good as, so I could give her the life she deserved.
Nino stood by the door with enough distance from Amelia. She glanced over her shoulder at me, blue eyes taking in my bare chest, trailing down my arm to my hand, in which I held her father’s bone. She shuddered. Amelia was kind. She was sensitive. Eight months in the basement hadn’t changed who she was. She dwelled in the light while I had been sucked into the dark.
Nino took in my scars. A burn wound on my back, below my shoulder, was festering. I had seen it in the mirror in the bathroom. “That needs immediate treatment to prevent blood poisoning. It’ll leave a scar, but given the state of your body, I doubt one more matters to you.”
“It doesn’t,” I confirmed.
“Do you want something for the pain? Cleaning the wound will be very unpleasant.”
“No. I can handle the pain.”
I didn’t want anything to dull my senses, even if that meant being spared pain. Amelia turned around with acute worry written across her pretty, pale face.
I gritted my teeth when Nino began to clean the wound, not making a sound. It had become almost impossible for Lamorgese to draw out screams from me, something I was proud of. I never wanted Amelia to hear my screams again. The sun had set behind her, the sky glowing in the last hues of red and orange before black would claim them too.
Nino treated my wounds for an hour, counting off the many healed fractures, guessing how I’d sustained certain scars, and always being right. When he finally left, silence fell over Amelia and me.
“Go to bed,” I told her. “I’ll keep watch.”
“You need to sleep too.”
I shook my head. I was free now, but I knew I wouldn’t be in my nightmares. I’d relive the horrors of the past. I didn’t want that now. I didn’t want to feel powerless, not even in a scenario made up in my mind.
Amelia disappeared in the bathroom and emerged in a simple white cotton nightgown. In the endless hours in my cell, I’d imagined kissing Amelia once we were free. I had imagined doing more. But I wanted things to go right. I wanted us to be married before we took another step. I wanted Amelia to be of age. I wanted my power to be unwavering and my body to be strong and healed. I wanted Amelia to have left the horrors behind, even if I couldn’t.
Until then, she’d be mine, yet she couldn’t be. I’d wait until the time was right.
“I don’t understand the look in your eyes,” she said with a small, uncertain smile.
“I’m just trying to believe that this is reality.”
“It is.” She stretched out on the bed, then curled up on her side, releasing a small sigh. “Are you sure you don’t want to join me?”
I moved closer and perched on the edge of the bed. I stroked my palm over her hair. “Sleep tight. I’ll keep the monsters at bay.”
Her eyelids fluttered. Before she fell asleep, she murmured, “Please don’t become one of them.”
I wished I could give her that promise, but I was already one of them.
I had fallen asleep in the early morning but had woken after an hour from a nightmare that had replayed the first weeks in Lamorgese’s hands, when my body hadn’t been used to torture yet, when Lamorgese still had been eager to create as much pain as possible for me, and when humiliation had been constant.
I reached for The Tale of Peter Rabbit beneath the bed, only to realize it wasn’t there. I wasn’t in my cell, and I hadn’t taken it with me when I’d fled.