She stands in her trousers and a blouse, messily put on, in the arch connecting the entrance and the living room.
“Antonella,” she says, longing in her voice.
“Don’t,” I say. “You won’t do that to me ever again.” And with that, I open the door.
I only see it from the corner of my eye, a blonde mane, a gun pointing at me, and there is nothing I can do. I stumble back, but the bullet hits me. I look down. Blood runs. But there is no pain.
I look back up.
Adria.
Another shot, but instead of me, it hits Adria in the head.
She drops dead in front of me.
I look at Rosalia, and she has a gun in her hand.
We look at each other.
She killed Adria.
Not me.
She killed her family.
To save me.
And with that, I sink to the ground.
When I wake,I stare at a very bright neon light.
“Urgh,” I say.
“Welcome back to the living,” says the voice of Salvatore.
I squint my eyes to focus and see two people around me.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, and I have no answer to the question. It would be too complicated to explain.
“How did I get here?”
“That is a question we’d like to have the answer to, too,” he says. “What the fuck happened, Antonella?”
“Adria happened.”
“Giuseppe’s daughter?”
“How many Adrias do you know?” I ask, stretching my joints.
Salvatore and Rosario look expectantly at me.
“Adria worked with Rosalia, at least I thought so. But as it happens, Rosalia was the one who saved me. Adria shot me. Rosalia killed Adria,” I say in a staccato voice.
“Why would Rosalia save you?”
“Can you ask me something I know?” I ask him back.
Salvatore sighs.