Under My Skin

Chapter 14

My fork clinched against the plate as I placed it down. Marlena arrived at my side to take my soiled tableware to the kitchen. I waited for Niccolò to dismiss me, but it never happened. I stared at the knots in the wooden table with the intention to disappear in their contortions. Filled with absent terror, I didn't dare look up. I couldn't look into his two black voids, which tried to consume me.

Niccolò took another sip of his wine, swirled the red liquid around, and dropped it back down on the table. It just about fell over. He rose to his feet and staggered down the length of the table. His legs dragged behind his mind as they slid across the room to the side of my chair. I stared at the table.

With one hand on the arm of my chair, Niccolò swung the entire thing to face him, including me. I stared at my hands resting on my lap. Niccolò grabbed my left hand, I tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip. I settled for grabbing my forearm as he pulled my hand towards him.

"You'll learn to accept my love. I know you will," Niccolò murmured more so to himself than to me.

My fingers uncurled as he pressed down on my knuckles. He forced them straight as he grabbed something out of his pocket. I dug my thumb into the underside of my forearm as if to snap the bones like you snap a pencil.

"I know you like simpler designs. You don't like the four-prong setting, but you do like the six prongs because it makes the diamond look bigger." He shoved a diamond ring on my finger.

I wasn't sure if I should've been more disturbed by the touch, or all the things Niccolò knew about me. In high school, I loved the Tiffany setting. Jade and I used to plan our weddings when we went through our boy-crazy phase. But how did he know that? How long has Niccolò watched me? Or did he do all this research recently?

"Now, you have proof of my love."

The way Niccolò whispered made me shudder. Everything about this was wrong. Tears welled in my eyes from the pure terror rising with me. I stayed quiet. I didn't know how to act around him. If I rejected him, then he'd hit me. If I accepted him, then he'd still hit me.

"I love you."

His tone was desperate. It wasn't love, that much was obvious. His fantasy of me has filled a void within him that I couldn't possibly understand. He needed me to love him. And I needed to pretend that I did. Fake it till you make it. That's what they say.

Niccolò stood up in response to my silence. He wanted me to say it back. He wanted to hear those words more than he wanted to breathe. I couldn't say it. I wanted to do. I wanted to protect myself, but I couldn't get the words out.

Grabbing my cheeks, Niccolò yanked my head back to look up at him. The force of his grasp reached my teeth through the flesh. It was so powerful I felt, and heard, the sound of the cut on my cheek pop open.

"Say it."

I shook my head in his hand.

"Say it!"

I felt his spit hit my face as he shouted. The tiny droplets remained on the lenses of my glasses. Niccolò's breaths grew heavy as his fury swelled. His eyes darted back and forth between my eyes. He searched for something he would never find.

"Love me! Dammit, love me. Say it. You have to say it."

His voice raised an octave as if reverting to a pitch from Niccolò's childhood. He threw my head away from him. As it hit the back of my chair, I felt my neck crack. He staggered backward and ran his hand through his hair. Mania plagued his wild expression. The blood from my cheek smeared through the black strands of his disheveled hair.