The knife slices through my dress, through my skin, through muscle. The pain is unlike anything I've ever experienced. Worse than the slap. Worse than the kick. Worse than the hours of fear and waiting.
I scream.
"Cazzo!"
Bruno's voice. Bruno's curse.
A gunshot explodes through the room.
Something warm and wet sprays across my back. Scar's weight disappears. I hear a body hit the floor somewhere behind me.
"Antonella!"
Bruno's voice again. Closer now. Desperate.
I try to respond. Try to tell him I'm here, I'm alive, I'm okay.
But the words won't come.
The darkness is pulling me under.
The last thing I hear is Bruno screaming my name.
Then nothing.
Bruno
Blood.
So much fucking blood.
It pools beneath her body, spreading across the concrete like a dark tide. Red soaks through the white fabric of her dress, turning it crimson. The metallic stench fills my nostrils, mixing with gunpowder and sweat.
I can't tell whose blood it is.
Mine. Hers. The motherfucker's.
My legs give out. I crash to my knees beside her, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through my spine. I don't care. Can't care. Nothing matters except the woman lying face-down on the filthy mattress.
"Antonella."
Her name tears from my throat. Raw. Desperate.
She doesn't move.
"Antonella!"
I grab her shoulder, my hand shaking so violently I can barely grip the blood-soaked fabric. Her skin feels cold beneath my palm. Too cold. The basement air bites at us both, but this is different. This is wrong.
"No. No, no, no?—"
I turn her over as gently as my trembling arms allow. Her head lolls to the side. Eyes closed. Face pale beneath the dirt and bruises. A dark purple mark blooms across her temple where someone hit her.
Blood smears across her cheek. Her neck. Her back.
I press my fingers to her throat, searching for a pulse. My own heart pounds so loud I can't hear anything else. Can't feel anything except the slick warmth of blood coating my hands.
"Come on, baby. Come on."