Games We Play - Round 2: Two Truths, One Lie (18+ dark mafia romance)

Chapter 1: Aftermath

Chapter 1

Aftermath

Valentina

Nobody has left the house in the past three weeks since Romeo got shot at my father's birthday. The first few days after felt like nothing had really changed, but the atmosphere in the house has been different. Everyone tries to act like nothing really happened, like we're fine and it was just a normal birthday.

No one ever mentions the security guys outside our house, nor the security kiosk that has been set up in front of our gate two days after the incident.

I had to go to a party at some point with Raisa and Isaac, but my mother said no. I wasn't sure why I even felt like asking for permission the second time around, because I never had to do so before, but she still said no. The reason given to me were the Covid restrictions, even though people had been allowed to go outside for months now.

I knew that wasn't the reason, but I never put up much of a fight anyway, so I ended up going along with it.

Staying inside for weeks has left me with nothing better to do than to think, and most of my thoughts ended up leading to what happened with Romeo. I keep asking myself why he was targeted and who had wanted to kill him in the first place.

Sometimes I would think about the way he clung onto me as the life drained out of his eyes, or how his limp body felt as it weighed down mine.

My mother had insisted that both Adrik and I visit a therapist as soon as we arrived back home from Italy. I went one time, but the session was mostly spent looking at each other without saying anything.

"Why are you here?" she had asked me after I sat down without saying anything.

"Because my mother told me to."

"You seem bothered by that."

"Maybe I am, I don't know."

"Do you often feel like you don't want to do what your parents tell you to?"

It had felt like a very intrusive and personal question coming from a stranger. "How is that relevant?"

"Isn't that what you said? That's the reason why you're here, isn't it?"

She seemed like she already knew what I was there but was playing dumb.

"Yes, but she didn't make me come here to talk about my feelings about my parents."

"Why did she make you come then?"

"Did she not tell you?"

"I want to hear it from you."

I proceeded to tell her what had happened.

"And how do you feel about it?" had been her conclusion.

"I don't know. I guess I'm just curious."

She didn't look like she had expected me to say that. "Are you experiencing any symptoms?"

"Like what?"

"Recurrent fear? Nightmares? Any signs of PTSD?"

"PTSD just because- I mean, nothing happened to me. I'm just wondering what he did to get himself shot."

"Did you know him personally?"

"I've known him for more than half of my life I guess. He was the housekeeper at our house in Italy."

"And you're not sad?"

"I was sad, but I've had time to grieve."

"It's been a week since then."