Simone Valentino

~~~18~~~

My headache was long gone this late into the afternoon, but John was still teasing me about it. I rolled my eyes and finished my lunch, knowing I needed to do some work for my classes.

I hid away in my room, John bringing me snacks every so often, taking advantage of his day off. I drew charts and scrawled my notes down in my messy handwriting, opening books and adding notes in their margins. Tabbing pages worth re-reading and humming to myself. The time to myself was nice, and I found myself glad for this work. The days have been so stressful and I'm sure they will only get worse until the wedding. Schoolwork may be the easiest thing to work on. I heard pots and pans and knew John was making dinner, and my nice day too myself would be over. But I was grateful for that too. For my loving "husband" and for the odd chaos that life has become. But we were both alive, and this terrible man, who maybe wasn't so terrible, was too. And for some strange reason, I was grateful for that too.

I stood up and walked to the kitchen, assuming he could use help. I walked in on him, covered in some form of powder and what I guessed was oil all mixed together on his apron. I laughed and ran over to hug him. He seemed confused but didn't seem to mind. I then put on the other apron and helped him finish the soup he was making, confused at how he made such a huge mess. When we both threw the aprons in the wash and changed. I turned on the record playing, propping some album John loved into the slot and grabbed a bowl for myself. John walked in and smiled so wide I could see most of his teeth. We sat and ate, muttering the words to the music. When we were finished we got up and danced, singing and laughing. We opened the windows and danced together, so everyone could watch if they wanted to. These small joys always made us both feel better. Giving us something to cherish and work for. Soon the record stopped and I closed the blinds, then moved to put the record away.

A sharp shattering noise pierced the air and I heard something that sounded like a crunch. I spun around and saw our window broken, a brick laying right where I was just standing. John was frozen against a wall and we just stared at each other for a silent second. Then the cold air seeped in and we both jumped into action. I walked over to the glass and found a note attached to the brick.

FOR GLORENTINO

I called Simone.

We sat in the back of his car. We had packed bags as he was on his way and we were both holding them to our chests.

"How are you two feeling?" Simone asked, looking at John's pale face in the rearview mirror. A few shards had given him cuts on his hands and one on his face but they were shallow and had stopped bleeding in the last hour.

"I think I'll manage," John said and stared out the windows. I didn't speak. This was so strange. All of it. I never worried about the other families until now and I realised how stupid that was. "Um, sir?" John broke the silence.

Simone chucked. "You can call me Val or Simone, Mr Johnson."

"Val. Where are we going?"

"My home."

Although that made sense I was still surprised. John was too because we both looked at each other. I thought he'd set us up in a safe house, where he could keep an eye on us. But of course he'd keep us with him. Why though, i wasn't sure. "I'd like to think of you both as my friends and well, I keep my friends safe. It's sort of a family thing really." We all laughed a little at that and I felt a little hope that this would be okay. I watched homes zoom by, and stared at the moon. I wished I still lived with my grandmother in the country on nights like this, so I could count the stars.

The silence grew and grew until I heard John's breath become even due to sleep, then spoke.

"We're friends?" I asked Simone.

"I hope so." He said, glancing at me in the mirror. A sad smile on his face. 'You are about to come live with me."

I giggled and smiled. "Hmm. I never thought of it like that. I guess we are friends." He smiles and starts tapping on the steering wheel.

The houses get fewer and bigger as we go on. Then he pulls into a large dark mansion, with a creepy look and parks. He opens my door before I beat him to it so I get John's door and shake him until he wakes up with a start.

"Were here," I whisper and I watch him take it in. He looks at me, eyes wide. "I Know," I say and smile. Simone's already unlocked the door for us and was coming back to take our things in. John objected and tried to carry his own but Simone simply did it for him. Lifting John, and my bag in one hand as he walked us to the door. He pointed out the kitchen and bathrooms, and living room. Up a grand staircase there a large hall with doors

"John." He said and looked right into John's eyes. I could see John's face go slightly red and I almost giggled. He pointed to the doors on the right. "Those are your office, bathroom and bedroom. Okay?" John just nodded. "Nora your rooms are the ones at the far end of the hall. The door at the end of the hallway is my room, if either of you needs me I'll be there."

He put our bags down and we all went to our separate rooms. I opened the first door and realised it was the bathroom. There was a shower, with a panel of glass separating it from the rest of the room. There was black tile laid on the walls, uneven and bumpy to the touch. But it wasn't ugly. The black matched the sage green that was scattered all through the room. In the hand towels and soap bottles. I walked out and opened the next door.

The bedroom was easily the size of my living room. Probably double the size. The far side had two glass doors that opened to a balcony There were two sleek black leather couches and a coffee table at the end of the black king-sized bed, a sage green canopy encircled it, matching the carpet under the couches and the accents in the bathroom. There was a door I assumed that led to the bathroom and another I guessed led to my office. I put my bags on the bed and then turned around, noticing the dresser. I put my case on top of it and then walked over to the door on the other side of the bed. Opening it and clicking the light on, I saw the bookshelves, stocked with classics and Shakespeare, there was also a dark mahogany desk and a tall matching chair. There were paintings here, huge copies of classics, maybe even the originals considering everything. I was inspecting a painting of dogs playing poker, something I think fit Simon perfectly when I noticed the door to my left. Without thinking I reached out and opened it.