When Smiles Fade

by Paige Dearth

  Minutes after Pete had finished, Ethan offered him a beer and the two stood in the kitchen laughing at Emma as she lay tied to the kitchen table, exposed and humiliated. But even as he doubled over in laughter, Ethan kept glancing over at her, hating her for her participation in a sex act with a man other than him.

  Shortly afterward, Pete left the apartment, telling Ethan he’d be waiting for him in the car. Once alone, Ethan came back into the kitchen and stared at a sobbing Emma who couldn’t bring herself to accept what she had just been put through. She couldn’t reconcile herself to the fact that Ethan had not only urged his friend to rape her, but had masterminded the whole sick scene.

  Ethan leaned down and gazed into her eyes. “You fucking little whore!” he cursed. “You bitch whore! Who the fuck do you think you are, cheating on me?”

  “Fuck you, Ethan!” Emma cried out. “You did this to me deliberately! I hate you! And believe me, you’ll pay for this! How could you do this to me?”

  “How could I?” he rasped. “How could I? It was clear that you wanted it all along. I watched you the whole time while it was happening and I could tell you enjoyed it. You got exactly what you asked for! You’re a fucking embarrassment! Pete will tell all of my other friends that I’m living with a no-good slut who fucked him while I stood here and watched.”

  Ethan’s own words seemed to inflame him. He swung around, picked up the wooden rolling pin Emma used to make the occasional pie, and slammed it down on her body with as much force as he could muster. He continued hitting her and reveled in the sight of the welts and bruises that instantly sprang to the surface of her skin. The blows he landed on her carried the full impact of his raw strength, and while the pain was indescribable and tore harsh screams from deep within her, it was the sound and searing sensation of her bones breaking that Emma’s mind seemed to focus on.

  Infuriated by the shrill screams that grated on his nerves, Ethan yanked the dish towel from the sink, wrapped it around her neck, and twisted it tight. Emma’s eyes began to bulge as she tried to suck in fresh air. Ethan let go of the towel only after she fell unconscious. Satisfied and feeling like a new man, he left the apartment to meet Pete. On his way to the car, he assured himself that he was finally the man of the house. Emma would now submit to him the way he’d always wanted her to. Besides, he promised himself, it would be a very long time before he forgave her for cheating on him with Pete.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Shortly after Ethan left, Katie came back to drop off the juice she had gone to buy. Unsuspecting, she walked into the apartment and found a naked and battered Emma strapped to the table. Her gorge rose and vomit splashed all over the kitchen floor. She grabbed a butcher’s knife from the block on the counter and looked around quickly to ensure she was alone. In a panic, she checked for Emma’s pulse the way she’d seen people do on TV. To her relief, her friend was still alive. Bloodied and beaten, but still alive. She watched Emma closely, knowing that her friend had just lived through some kind of horrible nightmare most people couldn’t even imagine. Chills ran up her spine and she had to struggle not to flee the apartment, still stinking of the malice that had prompted the sadistic brutality whose results were there for her to see.

  Snap out of it, Katie told herself as she rushed toward the screams coming from Izzy’s room. She found the child sitting in the middle of her bed, scared and crying. Relieved that she was unharmed and had not witnessed the horrific scene in the kitchen, Katie pulled out her cell phone and looked for a particular number. She scrolled until she had found the right name and pressed “send.”

  Salvatore answered on the second ring, irritated that someone was calling him so late at night. “Yeah?” he huffed into the phone.

  “Um, hi, this is Katie, Emma’s friend,” Katie said in a rush.

  “Who?” His voice was impatient.

  “Katie. I’m Emma’s friend. She works at Double Visions. You know her by her stage name, Amme,” she explained.

  Salvatore was instantly on alert. “Yes, Katie,” he said. “Emma has told me a lot about you. Is everything all right?”

  He realized it was a foolish question. If everything were okay, she wouldn’t be calling him.

  “No,” Katie started, then burst into tears. “Ethan has hurt her really bad!” she blubbered. “Really, really bad! Please help!”

  “Where is she?” he demanded with authority.

  “We’re at her apartment,” Katie responded.

  “I’ll be right there,” he said, hanging up the phone.

  Katie put the phone in her pocket and rushed back to Emma. She began to hyperventilate as she looked at her friend’s broken body. She didn’t dare untie her for fear of causing more injuries. Instead, she bent down and gently stroked the back of Emma’s head.

  “I’m here,” she whispered. “And Salvatore is on his way. Everything is going to be fine,” Katie comforted.

  Salvatore knocked at the door thirty minutes later. With him were three of his men. The state in which he found Emma, beaten, exposed and unconscious, made the blood in his veins run cold. Without a word, he strode over to the kitchen table and gently untied her bonds. He motioned to the three men who had accompanied him and they gingerly carried her to the sofa and laid her on it. He gave Katie two precise instructions: she was to go get something for Emma to wear and pack enough clothes for Izzy and her.

  “Do it quickly,” he commanded with an air of power.

  In less than thirty minutes of his arrival, Salvatore had Emma in the car and they were being driven to his apartment in the city. He called the family doctor on the way there.

  “We’ll be there in thirty minutes,” he said crisply. “Get over to my place as fast as you can. Hear?”

  With Izzy asleep in her arms, Katie sat in the back of the sedan with Salvatore. Emma lay between them, still unconscious. He reached across and touched Katie’s hand in a gesture of reassurance.

  “This will all work out,” he murmured. “She’ll be fine. Just relax.”

  He uttered the words with such certitude that Katie allowed herself to let go of her fear and laid her trust in this man she’d never met and didn’t know.

  The “family” doctor was already waiting for them when they arrived at Salvatore’s apartment. The men carried Emma in and placed her in the bedroom their boss indicated. Katie followed; the beauty of Salvatore’s plush, immaculately done-up home was completely lost on her. Her mind and heart were focused entirely on Emma.

  When the doctor finally emerged from the bedroom to give them an update, Katie’s heart lurched. But as he launched into a description of her friend’s condition, she found herself breathing again. The doctor explained that Emma had four broken ribs, a collapsed lung, and a lot of tears and bruising.

  “This guy fucked her up real good, Sal,” he said grimly. “If he had beaten her anymore, he might have killed her. She got lucky.”

  Salvatore’s pulse quickened at the words and his impulse to avenge what had happened to Emma began to play in his mind again. He was annoyed with himself for not taking care of the rotten motherfucker sooner.

  “What do we need to do for her now?” he asked, anxious to make Emma as comfortable as he possibly could.

  “She’ll need to stay off her feet for about a week so those bones can start to heal,” the doctor said. “Other than that, give her the painkillers I left on the dresser every four hours and keep an eye on her. If there is any change in her condition, call me right away. And I’ll be checking in on her tomorrow.” Then the doctor pulled Salvatore into the bedroom, “Sal, you know who did this to her?”

  Salvatore nodded.

  “Well, I know she must mean something to you. That fucking bastard tore the shit out of her. She should be dead right now, Sal. You understand what I’m saying?” the doctor asked to imply that the guy who did this should have to pay the price.

  “Yeah, yeah, I understand. I’ll take care of it,” Salvatore confirmed.

  Salvat
ore went into the other bedroom to check on Izzy, who was still sleeping. Gazing at the expression of complete trust and peace on her face, he was comforted. His thoughts returned to Emma, and he blamed himself for not having taken care of the problem called Ethan long ago. Then he walked back into his living room and called one of the men who worked for him. It was a call he should have made a long time ago, he told himself grimly.

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Emma regained consciousness the next morning. Not remembering what had happened to her and not knowing where she was, she tried to get out of bed. The excruciating pain that shot through her broken ribs jolted her into awareness. She looked around the room. It was beautiful and tastefully decorated. She wondered if she was dreaming. Then her eyes wandered to a chair in the corner where a man she recognized sat sleeping.

  “Salvatore?” she managed weakly.

  He woke instantly and sprang to his feet. Then he came over to her and knelt by the bed.

  “Hush, Bella,” he said. “You’ve been badly hurt. The doctor said you can’t get out of bed for a while.”

  “Bella?” she asked, confused.

  A tender smile played around the edges of his lips. “Yes, Bella. It means beautiful,” he told her adoringly, grateful that she was alive.

  Emma played through the fragmented recollections of what had recently happened to her.

  “Where’s Izzy?” she asked.

  Salvatore continued to smile at her. “She’s safe in the other bedroom, sleeping. Don’t worry. Ethan didn’t touch her. Do you remember what he did to you last night?”

  It took her several minutes and many tearful pauses, but Emma was finally able to tell him all that had occurred the previous night.

  “This friend of Ethan’s,” Salvatore asked, “what’s his name?”

  “That doesn’t matter, Salvatore,” Emma said. “He was drunk. And all that really matters is that Ethan was the one who planned it. He is the one who did this to me. He let it happen. When I get better, I will even the score. Trust me.”

  Salvatore stroked her hair and handed her two tablets and a glass of water. “Here, take these,” he urged. “It’s important that you rest. These will take the pain away and help you sleep.”

  Emma took the pills and waited for them to work. Right before she dozed off, she put her hand over Salvatore’s.

  “Don’t let Izzy out of your sight,” she murmured sleepily. “I don’t know what Ethan is capable of doing to her.”

  “Izzy is safe with me,” Salvatore assured her. “You have nothing to worry about. Now sleep, Bella.”

  Later that night, Ethan arrived back at his apartment still nursing a hangover from the night before. He walked into the kitchen and turned on the lights, expecting to feast his eyes on a naked and injured Emma. The sight of the bare table threw him into a rant and he started screaming her name. He ran into Izzy’s room. She was gone too. He noticed that the other bedroom door was closed. He figured Emma had locked herself in, along with that little brat. No matter, he told himself, he would break down the door if he needed to. No one would stop him from brawling with the raunchy bitch for cheating on him with his friend, Pete.

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  When Ethan twisted the doorknob to the bedroom, however, the door swung open, and he turned on the light switch. Two men were standing just inside the room.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he spewed at them, fear and anger working at cross purposes within him.

  Neither of the men uttered a word. Tony, the larger of the two, walked up to Ethan silently and punched him in the face, knocking him to the floor. Then his partner, Vincent, bent down and strapped Ethan’s wrists behind his back, jammed a rag inside his mouth, and covered it with electrical tape. Tony dragged Ethan out to the kitchen by his hair and sat him on one of the chairs. Ethan was so terrified by now he could barely draw in a breath.

  “Our boss sent us to pay ya a visit,” Tony began. “Our boss, he’s, well, let’s just say he runs a lot of businesses around here. Italian businesses, you understand me? Do you know who Salvatore Morano is?” Tony asked him.

  Ethan understood that Tony was talking about the Mafia and nodded vigorously. He felt a little calmer now, assuming they had the wrong guy. He had no connection with the mob, and all he had to do was explain it was a big mistake; after all, he definitely didn’t know anyone named Salvatore Morano.

  “No, now see, I think you do know him, sorta,” Tony tormented. “He’s a pretty powerful guy, if ya know what I mean.”

  Ethan shook his head and tried to talk through the gag and tape over his mouth.

  “Yeah, it ain’t your turn to talk yet, you get what I’m tellin’ ya.,” Tony told him coldly. “So like I was sayin’ ’fore you rudely interrupted me, Salvatore Morano, well, he’s a very, very good friend of the woman who lives here wit’ cha,” Tony stated and stood back to wait for Ethan’s reaction.

  Panic surged up in Ethan’s chest, constricting his breathing. He had never been more terrified in his life. His eyes grew wide and sweat beaded up on his forehead.

  “Yeah, there it is. That’s what we been waitin’ for. Yeah, that look, right there. Ya see it, Vincent? You know- the ‘I’m so fucked right now’ look. Yeah, priceless, ain’t it, Vincent?” Tony asked, nudging his partner. “See, Salvatore sent us to see ya,. He said we should tell ya that he found Emma tied to this here table last night. Sounds like ya let your buddy have a little party wit’ her.”

  Then in a monotone voice that hid all of his emotion, Tony concluded, “Ya know, we don’t like guys like you that do shit like that to women.”

  Without warning, Tony picked Ethan up by the back of his shirt and slammed him, face down, on the kitchen table. Vincent walked over and casually put a gun to his head while Tony cut the binding on his hands. Slowly and deliberately, Tony tied Ethan’s wrists and ankles to the legs of the table, mimicking what Ethan himself had done to Emma the night before. When he was done, Tony went behind him with a razor blade and sliced his pants from the waist to the cuff of the pant legs on either side. Then he cut away his boxers. When he was done, Ethan lay with all his limbs tightly bound and naked from the waist down.

  Then Vincent walked a few steps, taking each one deliberately slow, and opened the kitchen closet. He took out a broom and walked around the table to show it to Ethan, who immediately burst into tears and mumbled for forgiveness through his gag. The men looked at him and even pretended to consider his pleas, but it was obvious that they were simply amused.

  “So it was all right for you to do this to your girlfriend, but it ain’t all right for you. Huh?” Vincent asked.

  Ethan shook his head vigorously.

  Vincent looked at the broomstick. “You know,” he seethed, “what I’d like to do is split your fuckin’ head open with this, but if I did that, you wouldn’t be awake for all the fun you’re about to have. Now would ya?”

  Ethan tried to scream for help through the gag and tape that covered his mouth. Vincent walked slowly around the table and looked at his partner, who gave a quick nod of approval. The broomstick entered Ethan with such force he thought it had broken through his rectum and into his stomach. Then the man withdrew the broom just as abruptly and did it again. And again. And again. Dropping the broom to the floor, he made his way around to look Ethan in the face.

  “Ain’t too nice, is it?” Vincent tormented.

  Tony cut Ethan loose and tied his hands behind his back again. They led him out to the sedan in the dark, still half-naked, and placed him in the trunk. No one noticed them coming or going. No one heard Ethan’s screams through the gag that covered his mouth. As they drove away from the apartment, the two men sat in silence. They lived for these moments. There was nothing more enjoyable than killing for justice.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Four days later, Emma woke just as the sun was going down. She had drifted in and out of slumber since the attack, partly because of the severity of her injuries and partl
y owing to the effect of the narcotics she was being administered for pain every time she opened her eyes. When she awoke this time, Salvatore and Izzy were sitting nearby, watching the television in her bedroom. As Emma gently stretched her limbs, feeling the tenderness of her broken ribs, Izzy slid off the large sofa on the other side of the room and ran to her bedside.

  “Aunt Em, we’re watching Barney,” she said in her endearingly squeaky voice. “Salvatore said he looks like an ugly purple monster. Can you tell him that Barney isn’t ugly?”

  Emma chuckled as she pointed her finger at Salvatore. “Knock it off!” she told him. “Barney is our friend.”

  “Yes, of course he is!” Salvatore responded pleasantly, then turned to the child. “Well, Izzy, aren’t you a little tattletale!” he teased.

  Izzy giggled and climbed onto the bed next to Emma, who leaned in the best she could, given her injuries, to give her niece a kiss.

  “I’m starving!” Emma announced to them both.

  “Good,” Salvatore said, getting up from the sofa, “because I have a wonderful dinner planned for us tonight. Now how about if you go and take a long, hot shower while I have dinner set up in the dining room?”

  After she had showered and struggled into clean pajamas, Emma walked unsteadily out into the living room. She was overwhelmed by the size and beauty of Salvatore’s apartment. She had known he had money, but hadn’t imagined him to be this wealthy. There were plush green sofas and oversized chairs arranged around the vast living room. The floors were black and white marble, and contemporary artwork was perfectly mounted on the walls. The talking point of the formal dining room was a steel chandelier in an abstract design that incorporated stems pointing in different directions and metal figures of men holding the light bulbs that cast a glow on the table.