Pretty Poison

Eighteen

He took my hand in his and led me back out of the room, as I quickly leaned down to grab my bag off the floor. He leads me down the hallway that is now lit, the lights dimly lighting the space, complementing the stone walls impeccably.

Luca burned inside with unanswered questions, I could just feel it within him radiating like heat. He led me back down the steps, the soles of his dress shoes tapping the marble lightly, sending echoes up the tower like powerful drums. He takes me to the kitchen, pushing open the doors and greeting the maid who stands inside, waiting for orders.

The house now feels awake, the lights halfway on in the kitchen. Everything in here is just as I remembered, and I can't help but think of Gianna. She was as close to a family I ever got, and I abandoned her here in this wretched palace.

Luca clears his throat, "Cibo per lei per favore," he says in a thick accent, his tone rich and coated with sweet honey. Immediately, the maid begins to work.

"No it's al-"

"Don't," he says, whipping his head around to face me, "You need it," he looks me up and down once again, "You are far too skinny and pale."

At that I shut my mouth and watch as the maid prepares an assortment of fresh crackers and sliced meat on a beautiful silver platter.

"Come on," Luca suddenly states, taking my hand gently once again to lead me outside, the maid following. His palm feels so warm in mine, and I soak in the feeling knowing that it will end soon.

We walk to a table and chair set up underneath the covered patio. He pulls the chair out for me and gestures for me to sit, then he himself sits across from me. The maid places the food in front of me and immediately leaves.

He stares at me for a moment, internally deciding what to say or where to even start.

"Do you remember this place?" He questions, "It was the place where I talked to you for the first time, of course, it was more of a one sided conversation," he chuckles lightly at the memory. "I remember all I wanted was just to talk to you, to be friends with you. You were so mysterious and strange to me, I couldn't help but be curious about you."

I nod, reluctantly staring down at the food in front of me, my stomach growling like a beast.

"Eat, you need it," he urges, and I do, taking a bite of the perfectly salted meat, chewing it slowly, savoring the flavor.

He watches me, and I can't help but squirm under his gaze.

"So I assume that you heard about my father," I stop chewing, "That's why you're back, I'm guessing. He fell into a coma somehow...they analyzed his blood and found an unknown type of poison, but it wasn't enough to kill him," he almost looks disappointed as he says this, disappointed that his father still lives. "They say that the same type of poison was found in another man who died in a food market also in Venice four years ago, but they have no idea where it came from," he fiddles with his thumbs as he speaks, his eyes averted down and back arched as he sits comfortably.

"I heard about your father, I-I'm so s-"

"Don't be, he deserved it, it's unfortunate that it wasn't enough to kill. The doctors and detectives still don't know how it happened."

I'm taken back for a moment at his statement. His distaste for his father and the vile hopes he has against him so strong.

"They're looking for you, Beatrice, my father's private militia. They've been searching for you ever since you left. I wanted to find you myself so that I could protect you, but I never could. They searched Levada, Venice, and everywhere within a fifty kilometer radius, and you were nowhere to be found, Beatrice, nowhere." His tone begins to weigh heavy in sadness.

"I thought about you everyday ever since you left, I always wondered if you were even still alive, or where you had gone. The one thing that always stayed on my mind was the night you jumped out of that window... Why did you leave?"

I move my gaze from him, instead staring at a potted plant beside me.

"I left because I had to, I didn't belong here," I began to say, my eyes still focused on the ruffling plant. "I had no idea who I was, I still don't. I felt restricted here, I was only fifteen living under your father's watchful eyes for as long as I can remember. I don't ever remember coming here, all I can remember is that I woke up here one day, that's it. I was alone, and scared, and I just wanted to be free."

We sat in silence for a minute, my words lingering in the air for a moment longer.

"I've always wanted to leave, too," Luca says after some time of silence. "The only thing keeping me here was you, but once you left, I had been planning my own escape since then, but things never worked out. I had hopes of finding a new family, one that wasn't so secretive and dangerous, but never had the chance, always got caught."

He sighs, his shoulders sagging as he relaxes his body, readjusting himself on the rusting metal chair.

"I always resented you for escaping, but I was naive to the real pain, because you were right, I didn't understand. And I hated that I didn't. All I wanted was just to understand why, but I never got the chance."

"I'm sorry," I say lightly, pain striking my side as I realize that he was changed by my action, and yet I believed he would forget me.

"You have no reason to be sorry, Beatrice, you felt stuck here and you wanted to go, I don't blame you anymore." He weakly smiles, and stares into my eyes deeply, warmth and a flicker of happiness residing in his eyes.

"I-I just still can't believe that you're really here. I had dreamed of the day you came back, but never knew if it would be possible," he pauses for a moment, then wets his lips. "Earlier when you told me not to touch you, what were you afraid of? Were you...?" He asks sorrowfully, his tone lowering at the thought, and I can see the remorse grow as he imagines such a trauma.

At that, I instantly remember that boy, that boy and all his friends who tried to, but he laid his hand on me, and died.

"Beatrice, I'm so sorry for asking, forgive me," he pleads.

I contemplate telling him the truth, telling him about the boy, about the man in the market, and about his father. I don't understand it, I don't understand why. I want so badly to tell him, but I'm too selfish to say out of fear that he'll look at me differently.

"I-I was just scared, being alone for so many years can do that to you," I convey, swallowing everything I was seconds away from divulging.

A look of pain flashes across his face as his sorrow only grows.

"Beatrice, I'm so sorry," he says quietly. "Please, tell me, where have you been all this time?"

"Venice."