MY HEART FEELS tethered by a rope, which keeps on restricting any movement by tightening over and over as the church keeps getting closer to where the funeral ceremony is being held for my husband and sister.The soft and dull purr of Alessio's car is the only thing that lets me know I'm still seated beside him in his car. Other than my ears, none of my other senses seem to be responsive."Are you alright, Nicole?" Alessio questions and I cling to his raspy voice again because that's been my only anchor in this cavernous sea, preventing me from drowning. From knocking on my door every morning calling me down for breakfast- every afternoon to take my medicine- every evening asking if I want something from the city- every night asking me if I feel a bit better today."I think so." My voice is rough probably because of its rare use nowadays."We're here." With that he's out of the car and swiftly on my side of the door, pulling it open and offering me his hand to step out. Ignoring it, s
I'M A CHILD again, cowering, shaking like a leaf as I step down the stairs and face my tormentors."Oh, honey!" With a loud sob, she walks towards me and gathers me in an embrace. My confusion is out of the world as I stand still like a statue and have my mother break down in my arms.A mother's embrace is like the warmest of sheets on a gloomy, cold night acting like a shield that gives you the safety that nothing cruel could ever touch you but for me, she's that cruel thing."I'm so sorry I couldn't meet you these past few days," she says breaking away from me. Tears twinkle in her eyes but there's no sadness behind those blue eyes of her, just wrath. Towards me. "It must've been so difficult! But don't worry, mom's here to make everything alright."Translation: Mom's here to make everything even worse."Thank you so much for taking care of our daughter these past days," my father speaks up.Vile and haughty. Like always. Dressed in a button-up black suit with the same somber expres
"MASTER IS CALLING you downstairs." Lily- a middle-aged woman who works here informed me this ten minutes ago. I took five for making the tough choice of going downstairs or not; another five to sob, struggle, and whine to get out of this warm bed.It's said the surroundings do manage to convey a lot about someone's personality better than their behavior or actions can and Alessio's place says a lot about him, the way everything is so perfectly in place, nothing a little diagonal, or something that appears to be out of this respective place-perfectly ordered- just like how he carries himself, nothing dusty or stained-polished with perfection-again like him.His mansion may appear haunted and eerie at night time but nothing prepares you to be blown by it in wide daylight- cream-colored walls, a huge staircase right in the middle of the halls that are adorned with a red carpet that looks so luxurious and it feels like a crime walking on it, each corner here has beautiful paintings hangi
SEX WITH MY husband is only great when I have his brother in my mind.Instead of my husband inside me, I picture his brother deep in me, how his rough, calloused would feel wrapped around my neck, the feeling of his naked body pressed against mine, the scandalous things he would whisper that would caress my skin like the finest of silks, the tantalizing positions we would be in as I reach somewhere where I've never been. What-"Nicole!" My husband gasps my name one last time as he comes inside me with a sloppy thrust. He collapses right next to me with his naked body pressing against mine. His gasps for air trickle down my neck as if he ran a mile and all I can do is blink and stare at the beige-colored ceiling above me as I try to not let disappointment wash all over me even though it happens every time. Gianni cums faster than the speed of light as soon as his male part is inside me and all I can do is lay under him lifelessly, whimpering in pain.The freedom to make your own decisi
MALEVOLENCE— THE QUALITY of causing or wanting to cause harm or evil.The man with dark hair, whiskey eyes, and a face sculpted so perfectly that it surpasses the beauty of Greek gods, stares at me, malevolence dripping from his gaze."How's married life, fratello?" Alessio's deep, rich voice dripping with an Italian accent cuts the silence lingering in this room. (brother)A few tiny pieces of food fall from Gianni's mouth as he laughs loudly, his laughter echoing through the empty dining room. "More amazing than I thought it would be." He leans forward on the table and points towards me, "Mio moglie is just so obedient and caring that I feel like I'm in heaven on this Earth." (My wife)Sending a small smile in Gianni's way, I sip the champagne in my hand giving undivided attention to the dangerous man sitting at the opposite end of this round table. With his broad body structure, muscles bulging under the material of his high-end suit, slicked-back dark hair, and such high cheekbon
THE RIDE BACK home is filled with silence, not the kind which is peaceful where you're assured everything is fine, this silence is the silence before a deadly storm is about to hit— the kind that screams danger and settles dread deep in your bones.Gianni didn't see Alessio having me wrapped in his arms but he did see me standing close to him and he isn't happy about it, his fisted hands, harsh breaths, and the sound of his lips grinding makes it clear."Gianni—" "Don't spit a word till we reach home."Shuddering with fear, I kept my lips sealed. By the time we pulled up in the parking lot, I was trembling and soaring with anxiety that keeps doubling every passing second.A yelp escapes my lips as my husband walks up to me as I try exiting the car and wraps the back of my neck in a murderous grip."Gianni," I whisper with tears springing in my eyes because of the pain.With no word leaving his mouth, I am dragged inside of the house in an animalistic way— with my feet half in the air
HIDING BRUISES HAS become a part of my regime now.It's been a month since Gianni raised a hand at me for the very first time because of whatever happened at Alessio's house then the second time he pushed me off the stairs because he thought I gained weight, the third time he nearly broke my skull by crushing it with his foot because he wasn't happy with my tone while greeting him. In the past 30 days, I've suffered from a broken skull, fractured ribs, a broken arm, and severe bleeding in my abdomen.Sitting on the toilet seat trying the wipe off the blood that's dripping down my legs—I have this sudden urge to cry again. One.Two.Three.Taking deep breaths to not let a sob escape my mouth because I'm supposed to be getting ready for the ball, I and my husband are invited to, not crying while heeding the stab wound on my inner thigh gifted to me by my dear husband."Are you still not ready?" The voice from outside the bathroom door startles me and the bottle of the disinfectant in m
THAT VOICE BELONGS to none other than the man wrapped in whiskey and sin.My attention falters from Zoe and fixates on Alessio who isn't looking at me, his roughly calloused hand is outstretched in Zoe's direction along with his whole attention on my new friend.He's asking her to dance, I think to myself. Standing in the corner, I see Zoe put her hands in Alessio's who holds it in a firm grip and both of them retreat to the dance floor without sparing me a single glance.Suddenly it's like I'm the bland painting on a wall—not captivating enough to have anyone's attention and not alluring enough to have my own husband dance with me. He has his arms wrapped around a woman's waist whose identity I didn't know of—surrounded by more couples. The love dripping from most people's gaze is so painstakingly prominent that it feels like someone's punching a hole through my heart.Why don't I have anyone who loves me like this? Why don't I have anyone who wants to dance with me? Why don't I hav