Ruthless Monarch

It takes me a few more minutes to wash out the soap in my hair, and then I throw a towel around myself, get back into bed, and go to sleep.

Days pass.

I spend them doing exactly the same thing every day—I sleep, I wake, I eat, and occasionally, I shower. I haven’t heard from Matteo.

I don’t have the strength to speak to Julia. I don’t want her to say I told you so.

I don’t want her to say anything. I avoid my mother. I avoid my father. I walk around the house like a zombie, but I don’t speak to anyone.

I see Julia’s brother staring at me.

He gives me a nasty look. One that says he’s happy I’m down on my luck.

There was a time long ago when we were friends, but ever since he started to work for my father, it’s like he hates me.

Maybe he never liked me.

I guess that’s what happens when you live in the basement of a house. You resent the woman who lives on top. Regardless of the things I’ve done to help provide for him, he still hates me. I always thought because of my friendship with Julia, he wouldn’t, but he resents me even more for that.

Sometimes, I wonder if he knows the truth about that night, and maybe that’s why, but then I remember the only people who know the truth are my father and myself.

Today, I venture downstairs. I can hear my father’s voice bellowing through the air, screaming at God knows who. I keep walking, and this time Julia’s brother, Jonathan, doesn’t even pretend to ignore me.

“You look like shit,” he says, and I think he expects me to say something, to argue, to do anything, but I don’t. I’m too tired to do that, so I walk past him into the kitchen.

I haven’t eaten anything today. My stomach growls at the lack of food I’ve consumed. It’s been so long, I’m sure it has shrunk, so a banana is all I need.

When I take it and walk out of the room, I bump into my father. “You’re out of bed.”

“I am.”

“Good, it’s about time.”

“Time for what?”

“Time for you to meet Salvatore.”

“Why would I do that?” I’m confused.

“Because the plan will go on as previously planned. I will secure the support of Salvatore. You will play the part you were always meant to play.” I wasn’t wrong. I just thought I had more time. But I guess I was wrong.

My shoulders flop forward.

“Get changed and be presentable. He will be here shortly.” I think that this could have been my chance. I could have told Matteo about this. I rush to my room and call him. He sends me to voicemail.

Me: Please answer me. He’s coming here.

Matteo: As if I would ever fall for your trap again. Be happy I didn’t put a bullet in your head.

I try to call him again, but this time my call doesn’t go through. I’m truly alone. With no help coming from Matteo, I have no choice. I have to brave this by myself.

I fix my hair and pull out an old outfit from the closet, then I grab my purse. Who knows if we are going somewhere. Maybe I’ll get the opportunity to kill him myself, but I highly doubt it.

I walk down the stairs and find my father in his office. In the corner of the room is Salvatore Amante. His eyes are trained on me, focused intensely. He crosses the distance. Eating up the space, like a hungry carnivore in a prairie of sheep.

“Leave us,” he says to my father, and I’m instantly scared. I take a step back. My back hits the now closed door. He steps closer. His large body is looming over me. I look around the room, looking for a way to escape. I could use the door behind me. But the way his arms block me in, I’m not sure if I’d be able to.

“I see why my cousin stole you from me.”

He leans down, his face too close to mine. I can feel his breath against my cheek. I move to turn, but his hand lifts and grips my jaw.

“Let me go,” I say.

“No. I don’t think I will.” His sardonic smile makes a chill run down my spine. He looks scary, and for the first time, I’m genuinely afraid.

I was never this scared of Matteo.

His grip on my jaw is tight, but it loosens as it slides down my neck.

“From what I hear, my cousin was quite fond of you. I can see the appeal,” he says as he continues to trail his touch down the column of my neck.

“Please don’t touch me.”

He licks his lips, and the fear inside me multiplies. Will my father really let him do this to me? Will he let him hurt me?