“I’m not hungry,” I say in a whispered voice, not looking up. I feel fucking ridiculous, but I am entirely out of my element here.
“Goddamn it, Laura,” Angelo shouts. He abruptly stands up as he slams his fork and knife down on the table and I flinch. Something inside my brain screams at me to run as he starts to stomp his way over to me, so I do. I throw myself out of my chair and it feels like I’m running from my last foster parent all over again. Ron was a big and downright scary man. When he’d drink and get angry, he would brutally and aggressively rape me. I was placed with them the longest and in those three months, he made me bleed at least four times. I can’t count the number of times he and his sons would hold me down to fuck me until I passed out from the pain. I would disassociate for most of it, but something always snapped me back into reality and I would start fighting. When I fought, they would always go harder, and often Ron would have one of one of his sons help fuck me. The other son would violently fuck my throat. Something in the way Angelo nearly growls at me reminds me too much of Ron and it’s like I’ve been transported back in time to that terrified fifteen-year-old girl.
I don’t know where to run, so I race to the one place I feel the safest. I go straight to my room and lock the door before getting into my closet. There isn’t much in here to hide me, but I get in the back corner and pull my knees to my chest so I can hug my legs tightly and rest my forehead on my knees.
I went to years of therapy to learn how to help myself out of my own mind when I get triggered like this. I was told that I have Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from long-term trauma. I was told that I would always struggle and that it was just a matter of learning how to navigate my triggers. All of that goes right out ofthe fucking window when I hear the bedroom door unlock. The footsteps are hesitant, but it doesn’t stop my body from violently trembling or the tears from flooding my face. I stiffen and my sobs become audible when the closet door comes open. My brain has convinced me that when I look up, I’ll see Ron.
All I can think about is how badly he will hurt me; how he will tear me apart for going to the police and getting him and his sons put in jail. I just wanted to be emancipated but I needed a damn good reason why that didn’t just land me in another placement. A girl at school told me that the next time they all did it, escape and go to the hospital. She warned me not to shower so they could collect evidence. I did what she told me to do. The hospital helped me get an advocate so I could navigate becoming emancipated. I was with my advocate until the judge granted it a few weeks later, just in time for me to get my GED and apply for college and scholarships. Being a kid in foster care granted me many options, plus I was able to touch the money my parents left me in their will.
“Dolcezza,” Angelo whispers softly as he kneels in front of me.
“I’m sorry,” I whimper. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shhh. Laura, please don’t apologize,” he says as he takes my hand and gently pulls me, encouraging me to come closer. I release my hold on my legs and let him pull me into his lap. I feel tiny in his arms, but his warmth is comforting and helps the sobs to dissipate. I feel Mario rubbing my back as I am back into the fetal position, only I’m now pressed against Angelo’s chest with my face buried.
“Can I tell you something?” Angelo asks softly. I sit up and wipe my face.
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
“Turn around here,” he says. Angelo has me turn in his lap so that I am straddling him. I look at my hands as I pick at my nails. I’m afraid if I look up at him, I will see Ron again and I’ll start crying.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. Angelo gently lifts my chin and my bottom lip quivers as I try to fight back tears.
“Can I tell you how my mom died?” he asks me. I nod and he moves his hands to rest on my thighs. “Well... everywhere it says that she died in childbirth, but she didn’t. Dad bought her just to have children. She was held captive and raped until eventually she got pregnant with me. When I was born, he wanted to kill her. He was going to, but he decided to have one more child. He got her pregnant again when I was six. He wouldn’t let her get medical care like he did with me because he had already made her look dead. She was thirty-five weeks along when she started having bad pains, but she wasn’t in labor. He paid off a doctor and had an ultrasound done. That’s when they found out she was carrying a girl, and they were told that she had some birth defects from lack of medical care and poor nutrition. Dad took her home without getting a reason for the pain. She was put back on the chains in the basement and looking back I think she knew because she asked if she could hug me. She hugged me tight and told me that she would always be with me, and she loved me,” he explains but stops and takes a deep breath.
“You don’t have to,” I whisper.
“Yes, I do,” he says. “Dad told me to go stand by the door. He told me to always remember that God created women to serve men and when they were done serving, it was up to us to remove them. I asked him about my baby sister, and he told me that both problems would be taken care of soon. He simply raised the gun and shot her point blank in the face.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” I say, shocked.
“You see... my entire life I was taught that women were only to be fucked, impregnated, and taken out when they no longer served a purpose. Men weren’t supposed to love or show emotion. He only would protect children who were male, and although I would protect all children, I fell into the same path that he wanted me to. He created a younger version of himself when he shot my mother in front of me,” he explains. I knew your history, but it didn’t matter. You threatened my freedom, so I had to get you out of my way.”
“And Phillip knew what you were going to do?” I ask.
“Laura... he’s the one who ordered the hit on you,” he says. “Phillip Ricci’s real name is Antonio Ricci. He is head of his family and is far more dangerous than our family, even when Dad was alive.”
“I knew he was dirty but...” I say.
“Yeah, that job allowed him to move around undetected. Everything was fine until you started to put things together. Then Mario forgot how to bury a body correctly and you got put on the case.”
“He tried to get me to stop so many times but the more he did that, the more I wanted to find out why everyone was ignoring something so obvious,” I say.
“He called me when you left the station and said you were coming by. I was instructed to take you out or I’d lose every bit of support,” he says. “Then you mentioned my dad.”
“You didn’t know he killed my parents?” I ask.
“No. I asked Antonio so many times about it, but he insisted that it was a gang and they walked up on a drug deal,” he explains. “When you brought him up... It completely shattered everything I had been brainwashed into believing. I saved you because it became obvious that not only was he wrong, but he was psychotic. I was about to kill a woman who just wanted to make those who wronged her suffer. I could finally see just how driven you are to get what you want, and you absolutely would have been my downfall, and Antonio’s. I knew saving you meant that there was a real possibility that you could fuck all of us and you’d take down two families, or more.”
“Is that why I’m here?” I ask. “So, I can’t do that?”
“Uh... no,” he says.
“He got word of me using the medicine to reverse the effects of the Cyanide, so he sent the entire fucking police department after me and Mario. He said that you radioed for help and said that you had been shot while going rogue on an investigation. A warrant for my and Mario’s arrest was issued immediately for shooting a cop. We got word from a judge, actually. He said that he knew it was bullshit because I didn’t shoot people, especially women. Marioand I were able to get you on my jet and out of the country without issue. No one knows that I own this island and I have many people, families, and organizations in Brazil that would happily go to war to protect me. I have always made sure I had somewhere to go, in case things went south. I made friends and gathered support here by contributing to their communities. If they asked for help, I would help. It also generates a lot of legal profit, so the government doesn’t mess with me.”
“So, Phillip is after you and Mario now?” I ask.
“He’s after all three of us,” he says carefully. “They reported to the media that you were shot in the abdomen and then again in the head and you were dead upon arrival. He has to make that true because if you just show back up, his entire world comes crashing down, as will most every family on the East Coast.,” he says.