Something is wrong
Not that Tatiana would admit it, sitting across from me at a burges ce near the movie theater where we just caught a matinee. It’s an example of one of the things like most about her, She might have a billionaire for a father, but she’s still a regr girl. who likes the smell of movie theater popcorn and will sum it in restaurants I would’ve considered fancy back when I was a kid
Her tastes haven’t changed… but something about her has. I know better than toe out and ask her point–nk what the seal is. Not that she would lie, but she’s never liked being questioned.
As close as we are, I’ve always had <b>a </b>feeling there are things she hides. She doesn’t trust anybody with all of her, not even me
I guess she gets that from her father, who still keeps secrets between us. I mean, it’s not like we’ve been together for a long time, and I don’t expect him to be an open book. But there are moments when I can feel a <b>wall </bing down between us, and I know I shouldn’t push much further unless I want to start another war. He has his boundaries, and so does she
Which is why I don’t want toe straight out and ask Tatiana why she seems distracted. She’s here <b>physically</b>, but her thoughts are a mile <b>away</b>. She’s not the bubbly girl I know. It’s like someone took the volume control and turned it down
“<b>What</b>?” she asks with a tight smile.
“Sorry I didn’t realize I was staring at you.”
“I mean, I know I’m beautiful She tosses her golden hair and rolls her eyes the way she always does. It gives me <b>hope</b>, but the hope is short–lived. Her eyes dim again<b>, </b>and she quickly turns berattention to the bacon cheeseburger on her te.
“It’s funny. All that delicious food in France<b>, </b>and all I wanted after a few days was one of these.” She sinks her teeth in and closes her eyes, and I’m d to see her truly enjoying something for the first time since she got home three days ago.
“So seriously, do <b>you </b>have pictures? What did it look like? Did you see any famous people? Because, of course, she only <b>stayed </b>in the most exclusive areas, where celebrities sometimes vacation. At least, that was the way <b>she </b>made it sound when she first described the trip to me months <b>ago</b>.
She shakes her <b>head</b><b>, </b>picking at the bun. She’s been biting her nails, I see. A new habit. “Not really.”
That’s another thing. She usually never stops talking. When we were younger, Dad used to call her the Energizer Bunny because she would <b>keep </b>going and going. I didn’t think that had changed until now.
I know why. And I want to die right here in this booth.
It was one thing for her to be okay with Gianni and me when she was an ocean away, but obviously, she feels differently now. We haven’t been physically affectionate in front of her, and I’ve kept from talking about us. It’s too awkward, and I don’twant her to feel like I’m rubbing her nose in it.
Thate feeling like I’m walking on eggshells around her, but I don’t want to bring it up. I don’t want to <b>force </b>a conversation it she doesn’t want to discuss this rtionship. <b>When </b>she wants to, shee to me. We’re both adults. I have to give her space
And until shees around, I’ll be staying in her father’s room. This is so fucked up.
By the time we finish eating–she doesn’t do much more than pickuther food, even after rambling about how much she was craving a burger–she slides out of the booth wearing <b>a </b>determined expression. “I want to go shopping. I need a few new things, especially for when I start my internship next month.”
1 can’t put my finger on it, but something about that seeins off. <b>Just </b>one more thing. “What a shame you didn’t just vacation somewhere with incredible clothes stores,” <b>I </b>remind her. “I figure you woulde back with trunks tull of new clothes.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t get much of a chance to go shopping.” She’s digging through her purse, intent on finding her lip balm, but I wonder if she is also avoiding looking at me. Something’s not adding up, and <b>I </b><b>don’t </b>know how to phrase it in a way that won’t piss her off and bring our day to an end
She was gone for almost two months, and it’s like she came back different person. Canni asked over dinnerst night if Christopher woulde around to <b>thank </b>him for the trip, and she looked like she was going to throw up. She hasn’t mentioned him to me, and considering how tight–lipped she’s been, I don’t know if that means there’s something wrong with him or what.
“I could use a few things for work,” Loffer. It’s diffiendi trying to tond chipper with this dark cloud hanging over us, but I do my best as we leave the restaurant and head for the car waiting outside Roger isn’t driving, which is unusual, but Gianni has kept him busytely with all kinds of work I’m not allowed to know the details of. I’m sure it’s better that way.
“Just make sure it’s nothing too cute, or Dad might get jealous,” almost choke on my spit when she says it, but she pairs it with a light, genuineugh that makes her sound like her old self.
Twish new what to think. I only know I’m so starved for her presence and friendship that bearing herugh like that is a gift.
“This is cute.“I turn around in the mirror and check myself out over my shoulder. I wish it would get cold soon, so I have an excuse to wear a sweater dress. It’ll be super cute with boots.
I bet Gianni would love it. The idea makes me pieple at myself. He won’t be able t keep his hands off me with my curves on disy, I might not make it out of the <b>house </b>before he attacks.
<b>“</b>Hey, check me out.” I open the door to my dressing room and knock on the door beside it. “What do you think?”
“Gimme a sec.” Her high–pitched voice rings out at the same time realize her door isn’t fully closed, and it doesn’t ur to me not to open it until I see what she is trying to hide.
She’s just finished taking off a dress and is only <b>in </b>her bra and panties, so nothing’s keeping me from the ck–and–blue patches all over her upper arms, her shoulder des, even her ass
Her wide, panicked eyes meet mine in the mirror. “It’s not what you think,” she immediately whispers.
“What happened?” The sight of her wearing those bruises makes my <b>throat </b>so tight <b>I </b><b>can’t </b>do more than sip air.
“It’s nothing “She backs herself into the corner, her arms crossed over her chest, hands gripping her shoulders. “Can I get a little privacy?”
No, she can’t because when my <b>eyes </b>drop below her waist, the bruses on her thighs jump out at me and make my eyes sting.
“We were swimming,” she exins while I <b>stand </b>in mute horror. “We rented a boat in Catania and were out in the water. I got thrown against some rocks. That’s all.”
And were any of those rocks hand–shaped? Because that’s the shape of the bruise on her lett bicep–the perfect imprint <b>of </b>a palm and five fingers wrapped around her arm.
“Listen to me.” I close the door behind me and lower my voice to a whisper. “I want the truth.”
“That is
<b>“</b>Tatiana,” I snap. “That isn’t true. What about the bruises on your <b>legs</b><b>, </b>inside your thighs? What really happened out there? You can tell me. I love you. You’re my best friend.”
“I know that.” She stares at the floor, curling and uncurling her toes and chewing her lip.
“It somebody hurt you, I’m here to listen. No judgment. But you have to be honest with me, and I can tell you aren’t.”
It’s when <b>a </b>tear hits her arm that my heart shatters. I have never seen her cry in all the years we’ve known each other. Even when she broke her wrist after tripping and falling on the yground in middle school, she didn’t shed a tear. She’s gone through breakups, and her mom has ked out on something impertant a million times. Tatiana never so much as sniffled.
“It was bad.<b>” </b><b>I </b>almost have to lean in to hear her<b>; </b><b>she’s </b>whispering so softly. “Worse than before.”
“Before<b>?</b>” I ask with dread in my stomach. Dann it, I should have known. I <b>saw </b>all the warning signs. I just figured he <b>was </b><b>a </b>temperamental douchebag, not that he would <b>ever </b>really hurt <b>her</b><b>. </b>Somehow, <b>I </b><b>always </b>had this stupid idea Gianni Rossetti’s
+25 <b>BONUS </b>
daughter could defend herself and that even if she couldn’t, nobody would be stupid enough to screw around with her, knowing who her father is. I figured she was invincible.
There is nothing invincible about the bruised, weeping girl in front of me. “He started getting physically abusive maybe a month before the trip,” she confesses, still looking at the floor, tears now dripping from her chin. “I thought he would be better once we got away and there wasn’t so much stress. But it only made him worse. It took me a while to figure out he didn’t feel like he had to be careful anymore, with us being in Europe. There was nobody watching, nobody that could stop him.“..
“<b>Oh</b>, sweetie
“I don’t know where he is.” She looks at me from under hershes “He went off with some people he met in Rome, <b>parked </b>all his stuff and everything. Even the things Thought for him. I would do anything so long as it would make him happy and keep things calm.”
It obviously didn’t work because these bruises can’t be more than week old. Some of them are as vivid as the ones I still wear
on my skin after the ident.
“I
“That’s why <b>you </b>didn’t go anywhere,” I realize “No shopping, no sightseeing
“Only if he wanted to, and he almost never did<b>. </b>He just wanted to lie out on the beach or go to clubs and meet rich people. That’s all he <b>cared </b>about. And all I wanted was for him to stop… to stop being angry…”
She covers her face with her hands, shoulders heaving<b>, </b>and the sight of her propels me across the small space. arms around her, she drops her hands and throws her arms <b>around </b>my <b>neck</b>, weeping on my shoulder.
When I wrap my
“I am so sorry,” I whisper over and over, rocking back and forth while she cries it out. “So, so sorry. I didn’t see it. I never guessed.”
“Why would you? Luciano… was an asshole. But he wasn’t like this?”
<b>No</b>, but he tried to kill me with his car. I’ll spare her that detall–there are certain things I haven’t told <b>her </b>yet, either. Amazing the secrets we keep <b>from </b>each other when we’re supposed to be each <b>other’s </b>confidant. Shame is pretty fucked up when you
think about it
“You couldn’t have known. I made sure you didn’t know I’m so ashamed.”
“Honey, you have nothing to be ashamed of. <b>You </b>didn’t do anything wrong. And you’re safe now. He’s not going to hurt you
<b>anymore</b>.
“Oh, my god.” She lifts her head, holding me at arm’s length. Her eyes are wide and wild, her chin trembling “<b>You </b>can’t tell Dad. Please<b>, </b><b>I’m </b>begging you, don’t say a word about this to him.”
And she’s the one who told me she didn’t want to get in the middle of things. Meanwhile, here she is, cing me between them
“Caterina. I’m begging you. He’ll kill him.”
That’s the thing. I do know, maybe even better than she does. As far as I know, she still only suspects her father <b>is </b><b>a </b>violent, dangerous man. I know for a fact after what he told me in his office the day he threatened me with the gun.
I don’t like the idea of keeping this from him, especially when I know how furious he’ll be if he finds out I knew and didn’t say anything. But this is my best friend. She’s been so supportive all these years, but especially now. She could have thrown <b>a </b><b>fit </b>when she found out about Gianni and me, and I can’t risk losing her over this. I only hope I’m doing the right thing when I nod
“I won’t say a word, 1 promise.” Besides, Christopher’s still in Europe. He’s no threat to her right now. “But I have to tell you, if hees back around again, I <b>can’t </b>act like I don’t know anything.”
a thing he could do or say to
“You don’t have to worry about that,” she tells me, wearing a determined grimace. “There is not a t convince me to go back to him now, not after this.”
<b>“</b>Okay, I believe you.” I only hope he doesn’t show up and make her change her mind.
“You know what?” She turns <b>to </b><b>face </b>herself in the mirror and wipes the tears from her cheeks. “I don’t feel like shopping
anymore. Would you mind if we just went home?”
“I want to put on my pajamas and veg out for the rest of the day. Does that <b>sound </b>good?”
“It sounds perfect,” she says with a sigh. It’s like magic, watching the tension drain from her body. “I want to get under a nket and note back out for <b>a </b>little while.”
“Done.“1 go back to my room next door to get everything together, then take a deep breath to center myself before stepping out again. What she justid out was pretty heavy, and I want to keep my spirits high for her sake, but my heart is like a boulder. So heavy with sadness. She must have felt like a prisoner out there, with nobody she could turn to.
By the time we’re ready to go, it’s like the whole thing is in the <b>past</b>. She doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, and I can ept It’s enough that I know, and she knows she cane <b>to </b>me if he wants to talk about it some more. I don’t want to risk her shutting me out by making a big deal about it
Are you sure my dad will know what to do with himself if we hangout tonight?” she teases me as we step out of the store and into what’s turned into a cloudy day, heavy with humidity. The air has that special feeling to it, like we’re going to get a thunderstorm soon
Before I can make a joke, something catches my attention from the corner of my eye. I barely have time to register what’s happening before Luciano is practically <b>on </b>top of me.
“I thought I saw <b>you</b>,” he grits out, his teeth bared
I might not have recognized him if it wasn’t for his familiar voice. He hasn’t shaved in <b>a </b>couple of <b>days</b>, and his sweaty <b>hair </b>could use a trim. But it’s his eyes, bloodshot and wild, that creep me out,
As usual, it’s Tatiana who puts my thoughts into words. “Man, you look like shit,” she blurts out. “It <b>was </b>passing on the street, I’d give you <b>a </b>dor”
She doesn’t know what he did. III tell her right now, she might w his eyes out in front of the dozens of people walking in and out of the store as we stand in our little chinter
“Let’s not waste our time on this dickbag,”
urmurs, taking my hand.
But I can’t go. Not yet “Listen,” I whisper, ring at him. “It youge halt as smart as you think you are, you will stay the hell away from the. I know what <b>you </b>did. You’re lucky you’re still <b>breathing </b>”
“Huh?” Tatiana’s in the dark, of course. I’ll have to tell her about ter.
His tongue darts over his chapped lips
“It wasn’t for me,” I tell him, “you’d be dead right now. I’m not adding. So do yourself a favor and don’t approach me <b>again</b>. for any reason. Got it? Forget Lexist
“I can’t do that. You can’t expect me to do that.” When Tatiana pulls me away, his hand shoots out and wraps around my <b>wrist</b><b>.</b>”
Listen to me!”
“Fuck all the way off, asshole!” Tatiana shouts, which earns the attention of a few people passing by. “She said she’s through with you. Let it go and maybe take a shower while you’re at it, Youstink like the shit you are.”
His eyes dart around before he lets go, and I know he’s doing it more because there are witnesses than because it’s the right thing to do. I don’t care. So long <b>as </b>he’s not touching me.
As we hurry to the car, where the driver has gotten out and is staring over our shoulders to where Luciano is probably still watching us, I rub my wrist against my jeans like that will help remove any trace of him from my skin.
art withour you
“Damn.” Sheughs as we get in the car. “He fell apart i
didn’t he?”
“You have no idea,” I whisper, buckling my seat belt before the carrolls out of the spot.
Luciano is gone now and thank god for that. I’m not <b>sure </b><b>I </b>could stand looking at him again.
Even though I know he’s out of his mind, I can’t help but wonder what he thought was so important.