Tainted Vows | Book 1 'Til Death Do Us Part Duet | Mafia Romance | 18+

Chapter 2

Updated again
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Liliana

Something was wrong, is wrong.

I could feel it in the eerie air. The house is quiet. Too quiet.
It's like each nook knows a secret and is trying to conceal it. My heart accelerates at its own pace, my nerves jittery and all over the place. The insides of my palms itch with anticipation.

Surely, this has happened before. I've been confined to my bedroom more than once. Nevertheless, today is different. I wasn't allowed to attend Dad's business before but today someone will come by to pick me up. I should be happy but everything screams the opposite.

I slam the book shut, unable to concentrate on the words. I might have re-read the same page several times now. I get up from the bed and start pacing along.

Why would Dad want me to interfere in his business? My mind wanders to my past and I halt myself before crossing that ironclad door. The one I locked myself.

No.
Today is going to be different. Inhaling sharply I assure myself. However, my happy moment is interrupted by the knock on the door.

"Miss...?" Matteo's voice fills with concern vibrating through the door.
Releasing a shaky breath I open the door coming to face a human hulk crowding in the doorway.

"Yes Matteo," I smile at him.
"Uh... Boss has asked for you," he says robotically all in his bodyguard professional glory.
"Okay. Give me a minute to put on my slippers." I close the door rushing into the walk-in-closet.

I step inside the walk-in-closet with arrays of designer clothes, jewellery and shoes. This lavish luxury. All selected by Mom. All of which I don't need.
Which I don't deserve.

A pang of guilt feels me at the thought of her.
And him.

Their laugh fills me. Two pairs of innocent eyes stare at me. My eyes brim with unshed tears, itching the rims, swivelling there to spill any minute. The past crawls on my skin leaving ghastly marks, it branches squeezing the beating organ in my chest painfully, the roots dig deeper into the pits of my belly twisting the gut. I can feel the heat of the collapse heating me. My breath comes in short pants.
No, no, no.
This isn't happening.
I'm not going back there.
I won't.

Memorizing the sessions I inhale sharply. Then, slowly exhales.
I count the numbers backwards as the therapists had told me numerous times. 10. Inhale. 9. Exhale. 8. Inhale. 7. Exhale. 6. Inhale. 5. Exhale. 4. Inhale. 3. Exhale. 2. Inhale. 1. Exhale.
Eventually, my breathing slows. I breathe in swallowing the demons. Pushing the tears back. I slip into the white flip flops and turns to leave. My body finds it before my eyes.
There it sits amidst my designer clothes.

A piece of wood.
So frail and so old.
Holding memories of good old days.
Yet, haunting me in its mysterious ways.
There it sits on the top of the wood.
A broken doll.
A broken promise.
The tale of two fiery nights
Gone is the Princess and the Armoured Knight.

It's been ages since I played it.
Ages.
Yet, somehow I know each note. I recognize the pressure on the strings. It's like it never left me. I don't think it ever will.
On the contrary,
I abandoned it.

The same feeling returns but hastily I push it back. I skim my fingers over the burned piece of wood. Its edges are rough, not smooth like the way I remember it. Gradually I pull on the tight string. The sound resonates in the closet. Not alive.
It's the dead sound.
I'll have to polish it. Make it play a little by little every day.