𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

𝟕

❣︎

ADRIANA

   A soft knock on my door disrupts my drowsy state. I see a maid entering with a tray of steaming lasagna. "I brought your dinner, Miss Adriana," she says with a kind smile, setting the tray down on my bedside table.

"Thank you," I murmur, offering her a tired smile before she quietly exits the room, leaving me alone.

   Exhaustion weighs heavily on my eyelids, and before I can even take a bite, sleep claims me, and I drift off into a deep slumber.

The next morning, I'm roused from my sleep by the sound of Dante's voice calling my name.

   Blinking groggily, I sit up to find him standing at the foot of my bed, his expression a mix of concern and apprehension.

   "Adriana, I hope you're doing okay," he begins softly, his tone measured. "I noticed you didn't eat your dinner last night, and it has me a bit worried."

My mind still heavy with sleep, I struggle to process his words, my heart racing with sudden panic.

   Before I can gather my thoughts, Dante is already on the phone with our father, his voice urgent as he explains the situation. They are talking about making a doctor's appointment.

As the reality of the situation sinks in, panic bubbles up within me, my chest tightening with fear.

"Dante, you're overreacting," I protest, my voice trembling with anxiety. "It's just one missed meal. I'm fine, really."

"Adriana, we just want to make sure you're okay," he insists, his tone gentle but firm. "Please, let us help you."

I can't go to the doctors. What if they see my scars and bruises?

   A wave of panic crashes over me like a wave, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps as my chest tightens with fear.

   Each heartbeat feels like a drum pounding in my ears, drowning out all rational thought as panic consumes me whole.

What if they don't want me anymore when they find out about the abuse?

What if-

I suddenly feel arms encircle me, pulling me into a warm embrace.

   "Just focus on your breathing. You're safe here with me." Dante's words wash over me, grounding me in the present moment as he helps me navigate the turbulent seas of my own mind.

I'm in his arms, my breath now steady, waiting for whatever he has to say next.

"Do you have panic attacks often?" he asks, his voice gentle.

   For a moment, I hesitate, the weight of his gaze bearing down on me like a heavy burden. The truth is a fragile thing.

"No," I lie, the word leaving a bitter taste on my tongue as guilt gnaws at my conscience.

But even as the falsehood slips past my lips, I can see the skepticism in Dante's eyes.

Dante lets out a sigh and says, "Come down when you're ready for breakfast. We'll talk more about this later. And I'll have to tell Dad what happened."

With a nod, I agree, feeling the weight of his disappointment heavy on my shoulders.

As he heads downstairs, I'm left to grapple with the consequences of my lie.

❣︎

   Lost in my thoughts at the breakfast table, my three youngest older brothers' voices blend into background noise, their words becoming indistinct murmurs.