But Too Well

LXII : Broken

Trigger warning for this chapter.

***

YESTERDAY NIGHT AT dinner, I wanted to tell my family about Nero. I thought I could.

I imagined what I would say, where the hell I would possibly start, but nothing wanted to come out of my mouth.

As I sat there looking at them, smiling and laughing and just almost over our tragedy, I realized that I couldn't do that to them. Not now. I tried to picture how they would look at me, what they would think.

I worried I would lose them forever. My hidden truths and the dark, sordid secrets festered, toxic, in my gut.

How do I explain that I am undeniably, catastrophically, in love with a man who threatened my life? Whose colleagues threatened their lives, who was part of the mafia, the same mafia that framed Mario and killed Caleb? That I've been living next to him and keeping it hidden from them this whole time?

Stop and consider it, for a minute, how messed up it all is. How completely, utterly insane.

So, I didn't say anything. I don't know how I ever will.

•§•

APPARENTLY, ALEX WALKED into the RCMP yesterday afternoon and handed them a pile of incriminating evidence about Marco and Franco, and now there's a warrant out for their arrest.

A huge part of me wonders, a tentative hope growing just beneath my skin, if this conflict and war and stress and the bloody, messy violence is all, finally, over.

Another part of me knows that it's probably only just begun.

And a tiny piece of my battered heart worries that it'll never end.

•§•

MONDAY EVENING, I take a long, hot shower and can still feel the scent of Nero on my skin.

He's out grocery shopping or something right now. It feels strange not being with him, around him. His presence has seeped into my flesh, into the edges of my soul, and it's soft and bright but it hurts, too.

I bolted the door and followed his overly cautious instructions to ensure my safety. Overkill, probably. I remember the halting, heavy confessions of worry he whispered into my ear Friday night.

The way he loves me makes my heart ache in my chest. I never knew it was supposed to feel as consuming and impossible, that it was supposed to burn like this.

I'm brushing my hair, my mind drifting, when I suddenly see Marco's pale face appear behind me in the bathroom mirror.

I jump out of my skin, the brush clatters from my hands and I whip around and every last part of me fills with dread and panic and what the fuck...

He gives me a cold, yellow grin and I should scream and run but at first I'm paralyzed. This is not happening, this is not possible. "Rosa mia," he greets, leaning casually against the door. Those sick black eyes slide down my body, clad in a thin, sheer nightgown and panties. My skin crawls. "It's been a long time, tigrotta." It's that same thick, grating voice, damaged by smoke, that haunts my worst nightmares.

I stare at him for a second, in shock. I'm having another nightmare. But he smiles and I realize that this is real, this is not a dream.

My fingers hurriedly reach for my hairbrush, I try to think about what else in this bathroom I could possibly use to defend myself. "How the fuck did you get in here?" My quivering voice betrays the fact that I am already scared shitless.