Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 64176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
She twists to look at the bonds, to test them. They hold fast. She turns back to me making a sound I translate as defeat.
I look her over, look at the mess of blood.
I should take the dress off and clean her up, but I don’t trust myself right now. So instead, I turn and walk out of the room, locking the door behind me.
That’s not to keep her in. She’s not going anywhere bound as she is.
It’s to keep the monsters out.
It was always to keep the monsters out.
16
Damian
That wine spilling tonight, the glass shattering, all the blood after, it was almost like a foreshadowing of her future. Of our combined futures.
There will be more blood if my father has his way.
There should be if I, as head of the Di Santo family, do as I should do to avenge the deaths of my mother and sister and that of her unborn baby. That’s why we were rushing the wedding. If we’d waited like she’d wanted, she’d still be here today. None of us would have been out on that particular road on that particular night.
I wrap a bandage around my hand and use my teeth to rip it off before securing it. I cleaned the cut, but it hasn’t quite stopped bleeding yet.
My father’s words ring in my ear. Will I welcome her like I did my sister? Motherfucker.
That was my mistake. I should never have followed through on his order. He will forever hold that over my head because ultimately, I am ashamed of my actions that night.
But it’s how he grew up. How I grew up. Violence is second nature to the men of the Di Santo family.
When I’m finished, I grab the bottle of whiskey I keep in my room and slip out into the hallway.
She’s silent at least. No more screaming.
I wonder if my father would hear her on the east side of the house. Michela and he share that part in separate quarters, whole rooms for their private use bigger than most people’s houses. Only dinner is to be taken as a family. We can avoid each other the rest of the time.
Maybe I’ll put an end to that rule, though. I can. It’s up to me.
Lucas is—was—on the far west of the house. I’m between east and west in the main part.
As I walk through the deserted corridors, I think how much this house is like a mausoleum.
I know these hidden passages by heart. Annabel loved to play hide-and-seek and I indulged my baby sister long after we were too old for the game. After her fall in the solarium, I indulged her every whim.
Although it would be easier to use the kitchen exit, I decide to detour toward Lucas’s rooms. Something felt different when I was near them tonight. Something felt off.
I walk in darkness toward the door I had installed once he left to seal off his quarters entirely. No one goes there. No one even cleans this part of the house. I should probably have a look around sometime to fix anything that needs fixing. The house is old. It’ll fall down around us if I don’t take care of it.
When I get to that door which is only two turns from where Cristina was tonight, I find it closed as it should be. My heartbeat picks up when I put my hand on the doorknob.
What do I expect? For it to open? And what if it does? So what?
But when I try it, it doesn’t turn.
The door is still locked. Why wouldn’t it be? Lucas isn’t here.
Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I retrace my steps to the narrowest of staircases hidden behind a false wall. It leads out through the back of the house and onto the garden.
When my mom was alive, the garden was a magical place. She loved working in it. Spring and summertime especially were her favorites. I can’t remember the last time the pool was open. I’m sure if I look under the debris-laden tarp, I’d find it half crumbled into the earth.
I look back at the house. Will the earth take that someday too? Ivy grows like a clawing thing high along the walls. Perhaps I should let it be. Leave my father inside to rot with it.
A cold wind blows as I cross the garden toward the woods. I tug my jacket closer and take a swig of my whiskey.
I don’t use the flashlight tonight and just let the moon guide my way. I stop, though, where I had last night, and look up at her window. I don’t know who was more surprised to see the other, me or her. And if she saw me, I wonder if my father does too. If he knows I still come out here.