It's not the first time either.
For the last ten years, her face has been my only guide back to reality. The only tether I had to the world.
I don't know if it's the love and gratitude I feel for her in my heart that prompts me to do this, but I even shock myself when I lift my hand to touch her cheek.
I close my eyes for a moment, waiting for the pain to come.
Surprisingly, it doesn't.
"You always chase the demons away." I open my eyes and let the tears fall. I'm not afraid of looking weak in front of her. Not when just knowing she's near makes me feel so strong.
"Marcello, you..." She looks at me in awe. With my bravado still intact, I take it a step further and I take her hand in mine. I let out a loud groan at the sensation. I hesitantly wrap my fingers around her hand, and I have to take a minute to regulate my breathing. Human contact. Non-painful human contact. For the first time in over a decade.
"Lina," I croak, wanting to convey everything I'm feeling right now but not being able.
"Shh, it's ok." She coos and interlinks our fingers.
I stare at our linked hands for what seems like an eternity.
"I can touch you," I say, more to myself.
Maybe I'm still locked in my mind. A deep disappointment runs through me at the thought. It wouldn't be the first time... Every night I go to sleep thinking about her. Dreaming about touching her, kissing her.
"Is this real?" I whisper, raising my eyes to look at her, pleading with her to tell me it is.
"It's real. I'm real." Her body moves closer, and our knees almost touch.
I open my mouth to say something, but I find myself tongue-tied. She's dazzling. That beauty that shines from deep inside of her takes my breath away. I squeeze her hand. I wish I could put into words how much she means to me.
But I can't.
I don't deserve it. I don't deserve any of it. Not her compassion, nor her comfort. Yet, I'm so weak, I can't even stay away.
"Are you ok?" She asks me, and I just nod. I bring her hand to my lips for the briefest contact.
"Thank you," I tell her again, my voice full of emotion.
"You don't need to thank me," the corners of her lips turn up, "we're family."
"Family..." I repeat, the word so foreign on my tongue. Our definitions of family are inherently opposite. Family for me has always been about suffering... for her it seems the meaning encompasses so much more.
Still holding my hand, she moves next to me so we are both propped against the bookcase. She stretches out her legs to take a more relaxed pose and I follow her movements.
"Can I ask why you hate being touched?" Her voice is small, but it's like a balm for my battered soul.
"I didn't have the best childhood." I start and take a deep breath. "There were some things that happened..." I shake my head. I can't tell her, will probably never be able to tell her.
"Shh, it's ok, you don't have to tell me now. But I want you to know I'm here... if you need anything."
"Thank you."
We stay in a comfortable silence for a while, and I don't think I've ever felt this calm before.
"I... I have a confession to make," Catalina says, and I turn towards her. Her cheeks are red, her head hung low. "I don't even know how to say this. Lord!" She purses her lips.
"There's nothing you could say that would make me mad, Lina." I assure her, and a small smile appears on her face.
"I like it when you call me Lina." She whispers, almost embarrassed.
"Then that's what I'll call you from now on."
"I... A week or so ago I was in the kitchen at night and... I heard you."
"You heard me," I swallow hard, not liking where this is going.
"You were having a nightmare." She explains and I squeeze my eyes shut, shame filling me.
I've been having night terrors for as long as I remember. Most days it helps if I knock myself out with sleeping pills, but even then... The thought that Catalina would have heard me at my worst guts me.
"I didn't mean to intrude, but I was worried about you, so I entered your room. I'm so sorry." She adds emphatically.
"Did I... Did I do anything?" I have no control of myself during those times. I hope I didn't hurt her.
"You," she starts, but blushes profusely. "kissed me." Her voice is so low I can barely hear it.
"I kissed you?" I repeat, almost in awe, and she nods. I kissed her... and I don't even remember it.
I curse under my breath.
"I'm so sorry," she quickly tries to placate me.
"Don't... I'm mad because I don't remember it. Not because it happened." I take a deep breath. I've dreamed about it for so long, and the one time it actually happens I have no memory of it? "Was it good?" I quickly ask, almost afraid of the answer.
She nods. "I think so. It was my first kiss." She confesses and my eyes widen in shock.
Catalina seems ashamed of it, so I try to comfort her with a confession of my own.
"Mine too, even if I don't remember it."
"You're kidding." She suddenly turns to face me. "You mean you've never kissed anyone before? But how?" She frowns.
"I've never wanted to." I shrug. That is true, at least. I wouldn't want her to know my sordid past... the things I'd done to keep father off my back. But even then, I'd drawn the line at something as intimate as kissing. It had never seemed right.
"Oh," she seems unsure of herself, "we can do it again, if you want. Since you don't remember it..." She trails off. For a moment I say nothing, too shocked by what she's just suggested.
"If you can... and want, that is." She quickly amends, and I turn my head to face her.
"I'd like to try."
I let go of her hand and tentatively cup her cheeks. She trembles slightly, her breathing becoming harsher. My thumb lightly traces her lips, enjoying the feel of her skin. No amount of dreaming could prepare me for this... for the rawness of her naked flesh under mine.
I keep expecting the pain to hit me and make me recoil. But the more I explore her, the more comfortable I become.
I feel... at home.
My fingers graze over her cheek, tracing her features, inscribing them in my memory.
"You're exquisite," my voice is gruff. "so beautiful."
Lina lowers her eyelashes at my praise, a dot of pink staining her cheek. "I didn't think you liked me." She says in a low voice. "You always avoided me."
"Only because I like you too much. To be near you and not being able to touch you..." I groan. "It's pure torture."
"I like you too." She confesses, and I grin like a fool. The words I'd always longed for...
I slowly lean forward until our breaths mingle together. Her eyes are wide open and she bites her lip. I don't think she realizes what that does to me. I hover over her lips, almost afraid to take the last plunge.
But I do.
My lips cover hers, almost like the touch of a feather. I breathe in her essence, and her mouth opens to let me in. The taste of her... the feel of her... I can't help myself as I tug her closer, turning a sweet kiss into an urgent one. Her hands are stiff by her side, and I realize she's trying very hard not to touch me. My heart warms at her thoughtfulness. We kiss for what feels like hours, and when we finally break apart, we are both breathing hard.
"Where does this leave us?" Lina asks me, her voice hopeful.
"Wherever you want." I can't seem to have many boundaries where she is concerned. She's breaking down even the ones I'd once thought were impenetrable.
"Can we take it slow? Have a proper marriage?"
"Slow, yes. I'd like that." I answer candidly.
Maybe not all is lost.
Maybe there is hope for me after all.
IT'S LATER IN THE AFTERNOON that I meet with Vlad at a secure location. After parking his car, he gets out and throws a file at me.
"What's this?"
"Forensic report for our lovely nun."
I open it and skim through
its contents. There's not much. The cause of death was deemed to be blood loss, but the coroner commented on the presence of some lacerations on the left ventricle of the heart. That and some scuffs on the ribs and suggested the nun could have been stabbed through the heart, following which she bled out.
"I don't see why this is important." I flip through the file and hand it back to him.
"The coroner's remarks are rather interesting, though. Suppose she was in fact stabbed through the heart. You and I both know how difficult it is to achieve that. You need the perfect blade, the perfect angle, and the right amount of force."
"So our copycat has enough anatomical knowledge to inflict a mortal wound." I raise my eyebrow at him.
He's right in that to stab someone through the heart is not as easy as it seems, mainly because you wouldn't be stabbing over the heart, rather you would have to tilt the knife at an angle from below. And even that depends very much on the type of blade used and the strength of the perpetrator, as you have to go through the fat and muscle first.
"I've been running some scenarios in my head." Vlad starts pacing in front of me.
"Do tell."
"The coroner only mentioned lacerations, not holes or anything that might singularly identify it as a stabbing event. That means the wound wasn't too big to begin with."
"Or she didn't get stabbed through the heart." I point out the obvious.
"But if she was," Vlad continues, "then our copycat purposefully used a narrow blade to perforate the heart, but ultimately delay death."
"What are you trying to get at?"
"So she bled out. But she did not bleed out immediately. It takes time. You and I both know that."
"And?"
"Look again at the report. There's a list of all her injuries. But you know what there's not?"
I wait, knowing he will enlighten me.
"Defense wounds. None. The toxicology report came back clean too, so she wasn't drugged. If the wound was shallow, she would have had enough time to fight."
"So there wasn't a struggle." I frown, processing the information. "That would mean..."
"The perpetrator was someone she knew."
"You're reaching." I say. There could be a million other reasons she didn't fight him, right?
"Am I? I spent the entire night running through all the possible scenarios. It's all right here," he points at the file, "no defensive wounds and no restrictive wounds either. So her hands were free, yet she did not as much as scratch her killer. Her fingernails were clean. And I don't mean clean as in someone cleaned them on purpose. There was simply no foreign tissue underneath." I can see that Vlad is getting excited, so I just wait for him to continue.
"There's two likely outcomes. One, she was too shocked to react. Possible, but not entirely probable. It's reflexive to react, especially in self-defense. Two..." He pauses and turns to me. "She was a willing participant." His face is serious as he says this, and I can't help but burst into laughter.
"So she wanted it. Do you hear how absurd that is? Who would willingly agree to be chopped up and displayed on an altar?"
"Someone brainwashed. Someone who believes there's a higher purpose to their death?" Vlad shrugs. "Humans have given their lives for less." He says in a bored tone.
"You say humans as if you're not one." I retort drily.
"I might as well not be." He smirks and then he goes to his car and opens up the trunk, revealing a sleeping man.
"What is this?" I groan, knowing exactly what Vlad has in mind. So this is why he wanted to meet here. I shake my head.
"As I said, so far it's only a theory, but I'd like to put it to the test."
"Couldn't you do this by yourself?"
"You know I can't. I need someone to keep me in check."
Vlad then tells me that the man in question is a rat and he would have received a similar punishment anyway.
I reluctantly agree, and we set up all the variables for Vlad's experiment. He sure thought of everything.
When the man is awake, Vlad proceeds to stab him with a long, narrow knife. The man struggles in Vlad's hold, his hands flailing about, trying to latch onto Vlad.
I'm on the sidelines, observing.
After Vlad removes the knife, a trail of blood starts falling slowly. He takes a few steps back and assess the situation.
Surely enough, the man is in shock, and he stumbles a little, clutching at his wound. But he doesn't go down. He charges at Vlad, trying to get the knife away from him.
"You've proven your point. End it." I yell at Vlad, already seeing signs that he's struggling with his control.
I think my warning came one second too late because Vlad has the man on his back, his knife slashing and slashing. I sigh, the scene in front of me too familiar. I get into my car and close my eyes for a moment. It will be a while before his rage has run its course.
A knock on the window startles me awake, and I turn to see Vlad covered entirely in blood. I roll down the window and hand him some napkins. He wipes the blood off his face. His suit is dripping, and I can only imagine the state of the body if Vlad looks like this.
"Thanks."
I get out of the car and survey his handiwork. The man is completely butchered, his body a mass of mangled flesh and bone.
"So, did that prove your hypothesis?" I ask ironically, and Vlad chuckles.
He crouches down and takes the man's hand – or what's left from it.
"I'd say I proved my point. If you want to believe it, it's up to you." He shrugs, showing me the residue under the man's fingertips and some scratches on his own skin.
I help him dump the body in the trunk of his car, and then he's on his way.
Vlad's theory sounds crazy. Hell, it is crazy. Why would anyone willingly let themselves be murdered by a serial killer? But if there's any chance that he may be right... Then the nun knew the copycat. It's a starting point. And I can't afford to leave any leaf unturned. Not when I have someone to protect.
I get back in my car and drive home, noting how late it had gotten. It must be a little over twelve when I get back to the house. My first thought is to go get cleaned since I must be a bloody mess too.
"Marcello?" I hear Catalina's voice.
"Lina? What are you doing up at this hour?" She comes towards me and gasps when she sees the state I'm in.
"Are you hurt? God, what happened?" She frowns as she takes me in, her face full of worry.
"Not my blood." I say, and I attempt what I think is a smile. "I need to wash this off." I go towards my room and Lina follows from behind me.
"Did you..." she starts, and her lower lip trembles.
"Did I kill someone? No. Did I help get rid of a body? Yes." I give her the short version of the story and I unbutton my dress shirt. The blood seeped through the material and is now staining my skin, the stickiness making me feel uncomfortable.
"Do you need any help?" Lina asks, shocking me. I look at my bare torso, and then back at her, lifting my eyebrows in question.
"If you want help, that is," she quickly rephrases and lowers her gaze, clearly embarrassed.
"And if I did..." I take two steps until I'm in front of her. "How would you help me?" I tip her chin up ever so slightly, reveling in the simple touch. Catalina may be the only woman in this world I can touch without problem... and I don't know if it's a blessing or a curse.
"I can help wipe your chest." Her eyes are looking anywhere but at me.
"Really?" I drawl, enjoying seeing her like this. She just nods.
"Follow me." I show her to the bathroom and hand her a towel. Then I take off my pants, stripping down to my boxer briefs.
Catalina immediately averts her face.
"Is that necessary?" She asks in a small voice, her hand lightly covering her eyes.
"I wouldn't want to wet my pants now, would I?" I challenge.
"True." She accepts my explanation. "What about the shirt then? Shouldn't you take it off too?" Her question is innocent enoug
h, but I'm not ready for her to see my back yet. Not soon.
"I can do it myself if..." I change the subject, but she cuts me off.
"I'll do it."
She takes the towel and dampens it before coming in front of me.
"Can I?" She seeks my approval before touching me, and my heart threatens to burst in my chest.
"Please," I guide her hand until it's resting over my ribcage. She dabs at the blood, her movements soft and tender.
"Thank you," I say. I could have easily just showered, but having her do this? It's like a dream come true.
She's so focused on her task, she doesn't realize she's going increasingly and dangerously lower. When she's past my belly button, I have to stifle a groan. Does she even know what she's doing to me? Just a little lower and she'd see just how much she affects me.
But I don't want to scare her. Not yet.
I grab her hand, and I bring it over to my mouth for a soft kiss. She must have noticed all right... judging by the pink stain on her cheeks.
"I can't help it, you know. Not when I have a beautiful woman touching me." I lean forward to whisper in her hair. She giggles slightly, and the sound is pure music to my ears.
"I... Thank you." She replies, the red spreading to the roots of her hair.
After the blood is off my body, I try to get her to go to her room and get some sleep.
"Can I stay with you?" Lina asks, and I wish I could say yes but...
"Not now, Lina. You saw how I can get during the night. What if I hurt you?" I shake my head, knowing fully well how bad my night terrors can get.
"You won't!" She immediately says. "You didn't last time."
"I don't trust myself. Maybe in the future. But now? I won't take any risks." I move closer to her, intent on showing her this isn't me rejecting her. It's me protecting her. Even if it's from me. I caress her cheek with the back of my hand before leaning over and brushing my lips over hers.
"Go." I whisper.
She looks at me for a moment, her eyes full of yearning, but she does as she's told.
Damn it!
I need to get a hold of myself. Even if that means therapy again. I need to do this for Lina.
Everything I ever wanted is within my grasp. I just need to be brave enough to take it.
Morally Blasphemous (Morally Questionable Book 2) Page 17