“Or maybe,” I force through broken breath, “he left because he hatedyou.”
That earns me another crack across the ribs. Of course it does. This time, though, Martina hits my other side, spreading the agony evenly.
“What wouldyouknow. You know nothing about him.”
I swallow hard, taste blood. I must’ve bit the inside of my cheek on that last hit. “I know he was happy to hand me over to a man who was going to rape me and eventually kill me. I know he thought I was disposable. That’s not going to earn him any parenting awards.”
“You aren’t listening,” she says, knuckles white around the bat. “That’s your fault. All the horrible things he did after you were born, that’s all down to you.”
There is no winning this argument, I know that. With every blow she lands, the more I know I have to get out of here. Otherwise, I’m going to die.
I let the tension go out of my arms and legs, sag into my bindings. Martina needs to believe she has the upper hand long enough for me to distract her. The best way to do that is to keep her talking. She’s wants to vent about everything that’s gone wrong, I’m going to let her. Loudly.
From under lowered lids, I scan the room. It isn’t very large and it’s not as dark as I originally thought. It looks like a cabin of some kind. Maybe a fisherman’s hut, judging by some of the paraphernalia shoved into one corner of the room. “What is this place?”
My mother stares at me for a second before answering, “It belonged to your grandfather. He used to come here to fish and fuck his mistresses.”
She scans the dingy space, contempt clear on her face. I let my body sag even more, feeling the dead weight pull at myshoulders. It hurts like hell, but I wrap my fingers around the ropes and pull. Between that and my weight, I feel the anchor above me give a little more.
“He disposed of bodies here too,” she’s saying. “Always said the smell of the fish helped cover the stench of decaying corpses. And I have to agree; it makes the perfect spot.”
My mother’s last comment catches my attention. “What do you mean?”
“That last whore of your father’s. The little toy he stole from the Albanian,” she says, so casually. “She’s buried here and your grandfather was right. I barely covered her with six inches of dirt, and you still couldn’t smell her. Too much damp. Too many rotting fish.”
Tiny bits of dust drift down from the ceiling as my mother’s comment sinks in.
Rina is here.Oh my, God. Alik’s sister is buried here. The ache in my ribs has climbed to meet the fire in my shoulders and the pounding in my head, but I force myself to focus on the heinous woman in front of me. “What did she do to deserve that?”
“She was like you, only worse.”
It’s impossible not to flinch in the face of so much unvarnished rage. The involuntary movement makes the anchor slip a little more. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She took Renzo from me in the worst way possible.” Martina is seething with emotion, her chest heaving with it. “He fell for her. Wanted her. Was obsessed with her. Renzo, that fool, he took her from the Albanian. He said he borrowed her, that he was just playing with her, but it was such a lie. He wanted that Russian bitch all to himself and he refused to give her back. Even when I begged, he just laughed at me. Told me no.” Her voice is so whiney it’s almost unrecognizable.
Sheis unrecognizable. The cold, beautiful woman who has ignored me—despised me—my entire life, is a ball of heat andpassion and fury that she can’t contain. Even she’s caught off guard by her own vehemence. I watch, stupefied, as she leans against the baseball bat and gets herself back under control. “Renzo told me no,” she repeats. “So, I killed her. He wouldn’t return his toy, so I took it from him. Broke it. Buried it here, at Daddy’s favorite spot. Right beneath his stupid boat. Problem solved.”
A burning sensation fills my throat and nose. Tears well in the corner of my eyes. Poor Rina. She didn’t do anything wrong. She didn’t do anything to deserve this.
I want to scream, to cry. For her, for her brother, her family. Fuck it, for me, too. For being born into a family of vipers. But breaking down right now is the opposite of helpful. I swallow back my tears and look my mother in the face. “But not exactly problem solved, was it? Because you and Renzo still owed Shkodra a woman.”
Her bark of laughter catches me off guard. “A woman? Is that what those sad little girls were? Is that whatyouare?” My mother grabs me by my hair and tugs until it feels like she’s ripping my scalp off. “You’re a plaything a best, a disposable toy at worst. Don’t for one second forget it, Serafina. You’re nothing but what the man fucking you says you are.”
“You should know,” I spit out. “That’s exactly what you were to Dad.”
Martina slaps me so hard I think my eyes are going to fly out of my skull. I barely get my head back up before she does it again. And again. Every time she hits me, I yank my arms down even harder. By the time she’s done my ears are ringing and blood is running down my cheek, and there’s enough dust drifting through the air that the anchor must almost be free.
The beating is starting to take a real toll, though. My breathing is too shallow, my vision spotty as I get seriously lightheaded. My ears ringing at a piercing pitch every time Martina screams.
“Shut your fucking mouth.” Her spit coats my face. “Vaffanculo!I should’ve let that filthy Albanian have you. I thought killing you myself would make me feel better about everything, but you’re more trouble than you’re worth. I’m done with you. I’m going to get Renzo back here, make him do what he should’ve done when you were born.”
One of my eyes is swollen but that doesn’t stop me from blinking at her in confusion. “How are you going to get him back here?”
“Shut up.” She waves me off as she pulls out your phone. “No more talking.” She dials, waits for it to answer.
“You’re going to be waiting a long time,” I say. “He’s never going to answer.”
“I said shut up!”