Bellisima Princessa

Part 8

Ariyah's POV:

I could do nothing but stare. Stare into space. I was looking at things, but it felt as if they weren't really there. I wasn't really there. The slightly cold demeanor that I was feeling from Mariano was brought completely down. His voice softened as he said: "Are you alright?" 

I shook my head no, as I couldn't talk. I had finally made a life somewhere, a place that I thought I could call home. I may not have had any large house or grand life, but it was mine, simply mine. This time, my thoughts seemed to voice themselves unconsciously. "Not again, not again." 

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, but the movement did nothing to calm the soothing that was in my head. I hated myself, I hated my life, and I hated the scared feeling that I felt as I learned of what would happen to me. At this point, both the fear and my death were inevitable, so why not end my life in a way I wish? Why let this whole episode continue for long? I can't live my life on the run, and I refuse to submit to the wishes of someone I don't even know. I could feel a hand rubbing my back, and the warmth seemed to have been there for a while. The next thing I know, I'm walking down the inner corridor of the house and getting in an elevator to the third floor. I'm brought into a dark room, and Mariano claps twice as a lamp turns on. 

He sits on the bed, and then reaches over to grasp my shaky hand. He pulls me towards him and situates me on his lap. He then continues to sooth me by rubbing my back with his right hand and massaging my scalp with his left hand. How did he know that soothed me? My mother always used to run her fingers through my hair to calm me down when I was a child. His big hand covered almost the entirety of my waist, but it felt as if it was always meant to be there. He looks at me with softened grey eyes in the dim light, and in that crazed, panicky state of mind that I was in, only one thing was on repeat.

He cares.

He cares. 

He cares.

Somebody cares.

The fact that somebody could care about me made me cry harder, but this time, it wasn't out of fear, it was out of happiness and self-pity. These two contrasting feelings- along with the doubts of what tomorrow would bring- continued to run through my mind. Despite the turmoil in my head, Mariano continued to whisper sweet nothings to me until I eventually fell asleep. 

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I woke up to shifting. I look up, and there are those soft grey eyes again, this time a bit hooded. I couldn't tell if it was from desire or sleep deprivation, but I did know that I wanted to see them light up in satisfaction. Sometime during the course of me sleeping, Mariano had moved us to the headboard. He leaned against the headboard as I leaned against him. Still straddling him, my thoughts began to rev up their engine yet again as I took in the room. Dark grey walls, almost to the point of black, surrounded us. The headboard was a dark wood color, and the night stands matched the headboard as well. The leather on the headboard was almost the lightest thing in the room, if not for the comforter. The comforter was a grey color, almost matching Mariano's eyes when he was irritated. 

Even after knowing him for only a few days, I was already beginning to find interest in what his tendencies were, even his expressions at times. I found patterns in everything, and my latest fix was finding patterns in Mariano. At that thought, I looked from the comforter to Mariano, trying to find his eyes. But when I looked up, I found that he was already staring at me, with the most intense look. I know I probably shouldn't, but I just had to ask. I tilted my head to the side, as I posed a question. "What are you thinking about?"

Mariano pursed his lips, as he decided how to best answer my question. Then, with his hands on my waist, he moved them to my back and settled on what I hoped was the truth. "You."