"You think I don't have control over you?" He asks darkly while looking at me like he could rip me to pieces.
I stare at him with fear, "I-"
"Every fucking night, you lay under me, screaming my name at the top of your lungs, making it pretty clear...
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"NAVEA?"
"Navea, are you okay?"
"Navea..?"
Everything hurts. My mind hurts, my bones hurt, everything. I don't want to open my eyes. I want all of this to be a dream. Please be a dream.
"She's not waking up." Anna's voice echoes through my mind but I still can't find the courage to move.
"Maybe we should call capo."
No. Not him.
My eyes immediately open and I'm greeted with a worried looking Anna and a frightened looking Gloria.
"Navea!" Annas eyes change from worried to relief and her chest collides with mine, holding me into a hug.
I flutter my eyes and try to adjust to the light but a shot of pain tortures my head making me let out a groan so I hold my head in place.
I don't remember how I got here. What happened last night? All I remember is we go married, and then—
The priest got shot.
No no no. Nausea coats my stomach and I feel myself about to hurl.
Anna curses under her breath and stands up, "You're not okay— you know what I'm calling capo." I hold Anna's arm to stop her from moving and use my other hand to cover my mouth.
How did this happen? At our wedding— someone died— How?
I hurriedly get up from the bed and run towards the bathroom. I can't handle this, it's too much.
The lifeless body of that priest, the way his body slumped to the ground like a piece of meat.
I slump to the ground and empty my stomach in the toilet boil as the vision clouds my mind. The blood, his eyes, the look of not wanting to die.
His eyes were pleading to live in his final moments, despite his great age he still had a longer life to live and we— I ruined it.
It's my fault.
If I wasn't selfish for not wanting my mama to die, this wedding wouldn't have happened and the priest wouldn't have been there. It's all my fault.
I choke on my tears and grip the clothes over my chest. I'm just as worse as Angelo, he would sacrifice a life to get what he wants and I sacrificed a life to make sure my mother gets to live.
"I'm so sorry." I choke over my tears and grip my chest even tighter, letting the pain explode into me all at once.
"What are you sorry for, tesora?"
My movements freeze and my eyes widen. He's back, my newly wedded husband is back. The man who has unleashed utter hell on me this past month.
With shaking legs I push myself up from the ground. He's not my husband, he's my custom-made tormenter. The thought brings a bitter taste to my mouth because as much as the priest dying was my fault, it's Angelo's fault for making me choose.
