Omertà

Chapter 8: Piccolo Stella

I spend the night drifting in and out of consciousness, unable to get comfortable in the cold, dark closet with my wet clothes. When I finally wake up, it's in a fit of violent coughing. Unable to breathe, I sit up and kneel over, desperately trying to inhale a healthy amount of air, but I can't stop coughing.

The door swings open, making me jump slightly and Dimitri rushes over to me. I try to breathe in when suddenly I gag, throwing up on his shoes.

"Bella? Are you okay?" Concern is laced in his frantic voice. Not for his ruined shoes, but for me.

Still struggling to breathe, he scoops me up and rushes me to the bathroom. "Cazzo!" He curses to himself as he sets me down by the tub. "You're burning up." He curses angrily in Italian under his breath as he turns on the faucet in the tub, filling it with warm water.

"Bella? I need you to breathe." He pleads softly as I struggle to control my shaky airways. "I'm going to take your clothes off and put you in the bath, okay?" His worried eyes bore into mine and I give him a slight nod, taking shaky breaths.

Gently, he peels my borrowed clothes off of me, leaving me naked and vulnerable. He lifts me up and places me into the tub gently, propping me up on the edge. Normally, I'd feel extremely uncomfortable in this situation but the way Dimitri is looking at is absent of any perversion and pure concern.

"I'm going to call Teresa. She's good with this kind of stuff." He gets up and turns to leave.

I gather a shaky breath. "Wait..." I croak out.

He turns and looks at me, relieved that I'm able to speak.

"T-thank you." I press out, taking in a shaky breath. He smiles and gives me one last worried glance before leaving to get Teresa.

I decide to close my eyes and focus on my surroundings as I try to calm down. I focus on my breathing, which is exponentially better than when I woke up. I focus on the calm quiet surrounding me. I focus on the warmth seeping into my bones from the hot water.

My thoughts lead me to where yet always do: Dimitri. He was a concept I couldn't understand. Dimitri was ruthless, mean and cold hearted. But he could also be kind, gentle and fiercely compassionate. I just couldn't figure him out. He was an enigma.

I close my eyes, exhausted from my nearly sleepless night. A few minutes later, I hear Dimitri and Teresa enter the bathroom, but I'm too tired to open my eyes.

"Dimitri!" Teresa exclaims upon seeing me. "Che cazzo, what did you do to her?"

I feel a small hand on my forehead. It's as cold as ice compared to my burning temperature.

"I didn't do anything! I locked her in my closet yesterday and this morning she was coughing and throwing up!"

"Why did you lock her in a freaking closet! Didn't you think to at least give her a blanket?" Teresa fumes. "And her clothes were wet?!"

"She dove into the pool trying to escape! That's not my fault!"

"Get out." Teresa demands.

"What?" He asks stupidly.

"I said, get out." She spits.

"No. This is my room, my bathroom. She's mine. I'm not leaving." Treacherous butterflies flutter in my stomach at his words. She's mine.

"That's why you locked her in your closet? Because she's yours? Is that also why you dragged her all the way over to this god forsaken house to be imprisoned? You obviously care about her, so why do you keep hurting her? Just go. Let me fix her up, then you can do what ever the hell you want with her because she yours." Teresa mocks.