“They’re new,” she says, as if she’s read my mind. “He made me go into town with Mrs. Molina. She has great taste for you.”
When she’s finished, she walks past me and to the door. “Do you need me to tell him you’re awake?”
“Are you keeping watch by the door?”
She nods her head, pressing her lips.
“Then, no. I’m okay, as long as you’re there.” I don’t know what possesses me to say that. Deep down, it’s the truth. Of all the guards, Patanza is the one I think I can rely on. Let’s hope I’m right.
Her face changes, but barely. Her lips don’t press anymore, and her eyes aren’t as hard around the edges. She gives one quick nod before turning and walking out of the room and shutting the door behind her.
I sit on the bench at the end of the bed, staring down at my feet. It’s been a while since my toenails had a good trim and polish.
Looking in the bathroom, I see the square, pink box that was delivered from the other room. It’s full of everything a girl needs, including nail polish and remover.
Making my way to the bathroom, I open the case and dig through it, pulling out bottles of blue, pink, and red polish. I study each one, debating on which to go with.
Pink used to be my favorite, but it seems too fluffy for me now. Too sweet and innocent. Red was my father’s. He claimed red was a ruthless, dangerous color. Red made a statement, in both blood and confidence.
Blue was Toni’s favorite.
I look up at the mirror. I’m healing, somewhat. The right side of my face isn’t as puffy or blue as it was before. I stare for a long time, remembering just how I acquired the bruises. The stitches. The pain.
Heavy breathing.
Grunting.
Panting.
Groaning.
Stretches of pain.
Blood . . . everywhere.
“You can stab me, fight me, and even have Draco beat the fuck out of me, but you knew by the end of this shit I would get what the fuck I wanted.”
I wince, and pull my gaze away from the mirror. Fuck him.
I will not let what he did to me take over my life. I will not let it rule me.
Be smart. Be brave. Think about what Daddy would do.
I’ll tell you what Daddy would do.
He’d choose the color red.
5
Restoration
I riffle through the new clothes, the glossy red on my fingernails flashing from the small, crystal-like chandelier above.
Patanza was right. Mrs. Molina does have good taste. I pluck out a blue maxi dress. It’s lovely, with sleeves, made of a light, soft cotton.
I take a rapid shower, blow-dry the kinks out of my hair, and then get dressed in it.
As I’m sliding my feet into a pair of sandals, the door opens, and Draco walks in. He catches me leaning on the mattress to buckle my sandal, and his head goes into a slight tilt.
“You’re up,” he murmurs, somewhat surprised, sliding the tips of his fingers into his pocket.
“Yep.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to be. Thought I was going to have to drag you out of bed today.” He walks to the left, looking me over. “How do you feel?”
“Better.”
He continues his stare. He’s quiet for a minute, then looks at his brown dresser against the wall. “I know you were using the pills. That’s how you were sleeping through the day without being disturbed or scared awake.”
When he says that, I lift my head up to stare at him. “I needed them.” I say it hard enough for him to take my statement seriously.
“You can’t take too many, Gianna. They are only for severe situations.”
“And you don’t think that was a severe situation?” I snap, straightening my back.
His face remains even. His expression doesn’t change. “No more pills,” he orders.
“Fine.” I drop my foot and straighten my back. “Then give me something else to drown out the memories. Alcohol, preferably vodka.”
“I’m not letting you drown them out. I want you to feel them. You can’t sleep on the shit that’s happened and think everything will be okay later. It will only make you feel worse. You want to forget about that shit, you make it fucking happen by doing something bigger than what caused you pain. You do whatever you can to make sure it never fucking happens again.”
“I’m not killing them,” I tell him. “I’m not. It’s not who I am. I don’t kill people.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead he turns and walks through the door again. In the hallway, he turns to look at me.
“Breakfast,” is all he says and then strides off.
I can feel him watching me as I devour my meal. I eat it properly, but I’m hardly taking breaths between bites. I’m so hungry today. Considering I didn’t eat the food he brought up to the room the past two days, I shouldn’t be so surprised.