HALFBLOOD DANCER

14. DYING

My legs threaten to bend as my knees begin to weaken, forcing me to press my hands on the cool tiles for support. I open the faucet, and as the hot water falls over my hair, the steam quickly fills the room with a sinister fog. Closing my eyes, I bring my head back and let the stream run down on my face, hundreds of boiling liquid needles pinching my skin, mingling with my tears.

I let the heat soak in, willing the filthy memories and pain to wash away.

I'm exhausted. I haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks. The last two nights have been the worst. I keep reliving the attack in my nightmares. Undergoing that dreadful incident, after enduring everything I've been through in the last few weeks, has taken a toll on me. Still, it's pretending to be okay, for the sake of my friends and Sandro, that's really draining me.

I open my eyes and begin to slowly lather my body, cautious not to hurt my bruises. I hope they disappear soon. It's ridiculously hot this time of the year here in Italy and I've had to wear long sleeves for two whole days to hide them from everyone.

I don't want to even imagine what Sandro would do if he saw them. They would be a terrible reminder of my stubbornness and how it almost got me killed, or worse—according to him. I know the attack has taken a toll on him, as well.

I saw it in his eyes. I saw how desperate he was.

Now that I know how he really feels about me, and I've had more time to think, I can almost understand his behavior. He was trying to protect me the whole time. Somehow, he knew I was going to be in danger. I know that him saving me was no coincidence. It can't be. As time passes by, and the more I recall past events, the more I realize that.

I must find the time, and courage, to confront him about it. I need to know the truth.

I finish rinsing and shut the water off after making sure all the foam on the floor is gone and down the drain. As I open the shower door to reach for the towel, the gentle touch of the breeze cools the lingering drops of water on my skin. I rush to wrap the warm towel around my body, a flimsy shiver running through me.

Once my hair is also secured in a towel turban, I step out of the shower and walk over to the window. Although my intension was to close it to stop the breeze from coming in, as soon as I reach for it, I decide not to.

The view is spectacular.

Sandro's property in Amalfi is a stunning historical villa located at the end of one of the curved shorelines. The house sits on top of a huge cliff in a private cove, facing the coast. You can see the ocean from almost every angle. The views from each side of the house, the gardens, the terraces, and the deck that leads you down to the seashore, are all breathtaking.

I bring my head out the window and breathe the fresh air in, welcoming the salty aroma of ocean breeze combined with the sweet scent of lemon. From this side of the house, the view reaches the town. I can see the Cathedral's steeples past the exquisite flowers and lemon trees.

The town was crowded when we arrived earlier today, smiley faces everywhere. It was obvious everyone was already celebrating. I have to confess, though, that I felt immense relief when we drove past the town and up to the private cove. It is near the touristic area enough for my friends to enjoy it, but isolated and sheltered enough for me to relax and feel safe.

I move away from the window and head back to the splendid bedroom Sandro insisted on me taking. I feel like I've traveled back in time to the Romantic Era in this room. The artistically decorated ceiling is impressive. The color on the walls is a soft cream. The crown moldings, the frames around the paintings, and the antique furniture are painted in shimmering gold. The silk sheets on the king-size bed are burgundy with teal accents, matching the teal velvet fabric on the chairs and divan. There's a big bronze chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. Some of the Romanticism paintings are of the same gorgeous young lady. It must be the portraits of Sandro's great-great-great grandmother, or something, because I can clearly see the resemblance.