The tears escape their confinement and streak down my face.
My father leans to look past Angelo. A wicked smile creeps along his lips.
“There’s my girl. Why don’t you come over and give your old man a hug?”
He hasn’t changed one bit from the last time I saw him. He still wears his hair cropped short, his cheeks are sunken, and a cigarette hangs from his bottom lip. Only it’s not lit. He penetrates his piercing ice-blue eyes on me.
My breath shudders along with my racing heart. My body quivers and if it wasn’t for the wall supporting me, I’m sure I would collapse.
“What other secrets have you kept from your boyfriend, darling?” the other voice I hoped I’d never hear again hisses.
I hadn’t noticed her at first. But when my father stands tall, my mother closes the gap between them. She’s a lot shorter than he is, and just as skinny. She wears her auburn, unkempt hair in a spiky bob and her cruel, dark eyes shoot daggers at me.
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Angelo says slowly but authoritatively. “Why are you in my club?”
He steps closer to them, blocking my view.
My head spins and my stomach turns. I taste bile in my mouth and I stagger forward until I reach the low wall and lean on it for support.
“What lies has she told you about herself? About us?” my mother asks.
“You need to leave, now,” Angelo growls.
“Not so fast, lover boy,” my father chuckles, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “We came to visit our baby girl and meet her new boyfriend. How about you get us a drink, eh?”
“The only thing you'll get from me is a bullet.”
“You need to be twenty-one to work in a club, right?” my father prods. “How old did she tell you she was?”
I look at him through my lashes. No! Please no!
My father rubs his chin. “I wonder what the authorities would say when they find out you hired a nineteen-year-old.”
I crush my eyes closed. Angelo will hate me for lying to him.
“Do you know who I am?” Angelo asks, his voice cool and collected.
“Yeah, you’re the hot-shot who owns this place. We’ve seen you in the papers and on the news. Won’t be for long when the police find out about you,” my mother cackles.
Angelo laughs. “Call them now. Tell them Angelo Cappellini says hello.”
My father scoffs. “Hey, princess. I thought you were smart like me. You managed to stay hidden for almost a year until you hooked up with the celebrity of Twisted City. See what love does to you? It makes you stupid. But I’ve got to say, we love the photo of you two. We cut out the clipping and framed it.” His laughter is raspy from years of smoking.
“Your boyfriend can't protect you forever.” My mother’s voice is laced with ice as she whispers in my ear.
Her rancid breath imbues my nostrils. I slap my hand over my mouth to imprison the escaping scream.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” she barks. Her fingertips burn my shoulder as she grabs me, forcing me round to look at her. “Did you really think you could get away from us again? What was your plan? Get us in trouble again?” She narrows her eyes. “Have you told your boyfriend all our little secrets?”
With my hand still jammed over my mouth, I shake my head.
“Good girl.” She tilts her head. “At least we managed to teach you some manners.” She leans close and lowers her voice. “Your daddy’s missed you.”
I squeeze my eyes closed. I can’t contain the whimper or the fresh tears that slither down my cheeks.
“Get away from her,” Frankie’s voice says from behind me.
I hear a familiar click as Frankie puts a bullet in the chamber. But for once, I’m not afraid of the sound. I welcome it.
My mother turns in a slow circle to face Frankie and the gun he’s pointing at her. She holds her palms up.
“All right. I'm backing off. For now.”
She saunters back to my father, followed by Frankie.
I lean back against the low wall, gripping it, hyperventilating.
“You have five seconds to leave my club or I'll put a bullet in each of you,” Angelo says, not quite shouting, but loud enough for them to hear as they walk away.
“All right. Have it your way,” my father says condescendingly. “We'll be seeing you, princess.”
My body quivers and I finally lose the strength to stand as the world around me fades to black.
I wake with a hard gasp and notice a pair of hands clamped on my shoulders. I scream and kick at the body in front of me. “Get away from me!”
“Eva, it’s me!”
I don’t recognize the voice. All I see before me is my parents performing their torturous acts and speaking their cruel words.
“Leave me alone!” I continue to scream until the hands retreat.
But the demons’ voices remain. I curl my knees into my chest and secure them with my arms before burying my face and sob.
“Call Alice,” the unfamiliar voice says.
I can’t tell how long I’ve been sitting here sobbing. My throat is hoarse and yet I can’t stop the gasps.
“Oh, my God, Eva,” her sweet voice penetrates through the overbearing voices of my parents.
I lift my head and see her before me. She reaches out and I crush myself into her embrace.
“Alice,” I sob. “They found me.”
“I know,” she soothes, stroking my back. “But you’ll be safe.”
“How? They’ve found me and they’ll take me back there!”
“But you have Angelo.”
Angelo? Angelo! In all the chaos, my mind somehow evicted him.
“Where is he?” I whisper.
A warm hand rests on my back before sliding to secure around my shoulder.
“I’m right here, baby,” he murmurs.
I allow him to gather me in his arms and cradle me, absorbing his warmth. Only then do I realize we’re sitting on the sofa. Alice remains by my side while Angelo holds me. He runs his fingers through my hair, sending warm tingles to cascade down my spine, soothing my tense muscles.
He rests his lips on top of my head and releases a heavy sigh. “So, those were her parents.”
“Yeah,” Alice says.
“Not to sound like a dick, but I thought they were dead.”
“They are to us.” Alice sighs. “They tried to kill her on multiple occasions.”
I wish I could see Angelo’s face. I want to know how angry he is at me for lying. But at the same time, I can’t bring myself to look.
“Frankie, I think we’re going to need a drink,” is all he says.
Frankie’s heavy footsteps echo around the room. The clinking sound of glasses reach my ears before his footsteps return. I hear him pour liquid into four glasses before the gentle thud of the bottle rests on the table.
“Here,” he says.
One of Angelo’s arms retracts from me. “Thanks, Frankie.”
“Thanks, Frankie,” I hear Alice say and can only assume he’s offered her a glass too.
With Angelo’s arm still secured around me, I sit up and see the remaining tumbler sitting on the table beside the bottle of whiskey. Alice sits, wearing a blank stare, with her glass cradled between her palms. Frankie is beside Angelo. He drains the amber liquid and rests the tumbler on the table, still clamped in his hand. Angelo finishes his drink before returning the glass to the table.
“Can I have one?” I ask in a timid voice.
“Yeah, of course,” he says, reaching to gather the tumbler of whiskey.
He drags it across the table and places it in my outstretched hand. I take a sip. The liquid burns down my throat and I cough.
“I don’t know how you drink this,” I say and take another sip.
Angelo chuckles. “You develop a taste for it after so long.”
The alcohol warms my blood as it courses through my veins, calming my nerves. I lean forward to return the
glass to the table. But Angelo takes it from me.
“Do you want any more?” he asks.
“No, thank you.”
He swallows the rest of the liquid before returning the glass to the table. “Do you want to talk about it, Eva? Or can Alice tell us?”
I nestle against him, resting my head on his chest and listen to the thrumming of his heart. He tightens his arms around me like a protective shield.
“I shouldn’t have told you they were dead,” I whisper.
“Well, from what I’ve seen today and what Alice said, I wish they were dead too,” he says matter-of-factly. “So you ran from them?”
I nod.
“Are they the ones who stabbed you?”
“My mother did it,” I say with no emotion.
“Were you ever in foster care?”
“Yes, for a while. The car accident is true, and I ended up in hospital. From there, I was put into foster care.”
“And met me,” Alice adds.
“You were in foster care also?” Frankie asks.
“No, they happened to be my aunt and uncle. My parents were douches—well, they still are—and shipped me off to live with them for a few years. But I met Eva when she first arrived, and we’ve been pretty much inseparable ever since.”
“Until they got me back.” I sigh.
“How?” Frankie asks.
“Somehow, they convinced the courts they were reformed, benevolent parents and got me back. I was sixteen and the abuse carried on where it left off.” I sigh. “Do you mind if we leave it there?”
I tilt my head up as he lowers his. His ocean-blue pools emit love for me. None of the anger I expected to find is there.
He nuzzles my hair. “Of course,” his voice is barely a whisper.
“I’m sorry I lied to you. I should have told you about them and my real age,” I sniffle.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m not mad. But why didn’t you tell me?”
“We didn’t think she’d get a job,” Alice says. “I know a guy who makes fake IDs. He made one for me so I could work at seventeen and I got him to make one for Eva.”
He chuckles. “Fair enough. I’ll let you both in on a secret. Not one of the staff was the legal age when I hired them and I was nineteen when I got the club.”
“How?” Alice asks.
“It’s one of the perks of working for Don Bellini.”
“Alice, does Mario know your real age?” Angelo asks.
“Yeah, why?”
“Son of a bitch kept it from me.” He chuckles.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. My fault. He was keeping Eva’s secret.”
I look up at him. “Angelo?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Can we go home? I’m really tired.”
“Of course.” He kisses my lips.
After hugging Alice and Frankie goodbye, Angelo gathers my hand and leads me to the car.
All my energy depletes as I slip into the cool leather seat. I fasten my seatbelt and my eyes flutter closed. The engine roars, soothing me. Soon, I’ll be alone with Angelo and maybe I can sleep.
By the time we reach home, I’m wide awake. Still, my limbs refuse to obey when I order them out of the car. Angelo opens my door and offers a hand. I accept it but stumble out of the car. Angelo scoops me up into his arms and carries me inside, up to his bedroom, and lays me on the bed. He curls up behind me, enclosing his arm around my chest and draws me close. His heat envelopes me and even though I know that my parents are in the city, waiting for me to be alone, I feel safe within his embrace.
I haven’t heard Mr. Thompson’s voice for months, but as we lie here in silence, his voice is clear, like he’s sitting on the bed in front of me.
Talk to him, Eva, he says. The words will flow effortlessly and he’ll understand.
I reach out to the place where Mr. Thompson should be sitting, yet find the bed cold.
I twist around to face Angelo, only to bury my face into his chest. He tightens his arms around me and kisses the top of my head.
“Can you hear me?” I mumble.
He chuckles. “Just about.”
I unveil my face and gaze up at him, but he keeps his focus ahead of him. “Are you ready to hear my story now?”
He tilts his head to look at me. “Are you ready to tell it?”
I nod.
“Then I’m ready.”
I nuzzle against his chest and take a deep, shaky breath. “My parents never wanted children. It was evident from the moment I was conceived because my mother never stopped drinking or smoking. They told me all the time the only reason she didn’t abort me was because they found out too late that she was pregnant.” I scoff. “They even argued with the doctor when he refused to do it.”
He tightens his arms around me.
“I never cried. Not once. I knew it was pointless because they would never come for me. I was hungry a lot and had to steal food out of the fridge and cupboards. Thankfully, they were too drunk to notice, but on the days they found out, I got a beating for it.”
A growl works its way through Angelo’s chest before escaping his lips.
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, gazing up at him.
“No, baby. I’m angry, but you can keep going if you want to.”
I nod. “One form of punishment they always used was burning me with cigarettes. They’re all over my chest. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you where the others come from. Except the one in my side and on my legs.” I sigh heavily. “When he started calling me princess, it enraged her. He only did it to mock me, but for whatever reason, she thought he was serious. She would cut my legs to deform me so he’d no longer look at me, let alone love me. It wasn’t long after that they told me no one would love me because of the way I looked.”
“And that’s why you thought I wouldn’t accept you?”
I nod. “But I know differently now.” I chuckle. “I had this ratty old bear as a kid. He was my best friend and I’d spend hours cuddling him. I had no idea a real cuddle would be this warm.” I sigh, nestling in further.
“If I had my way, I’d never let you go.” He kisses the top of my head. “How did you land in foster care?”
“My parents were drunk all the time and when I was seven, they had me in the back of the car with no seatbelt on and they crashed. I went flying through the window and next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital with a cast on my arm and one on my leg. The doctors said I was really lucky to survive. The doctors saved my life, though. And not because of my injuries. They took one look at the scars on my body and knew they weren’t from the accident. So, they called social services and I was taken away and put into foster care where I met Alice. I already told you how they got me back. But what I didn’t tell you is it got worse.”
“Do you know why they wanted you back? If they hated you so much, why go to all that trouble?”
“Money. By simply having a kid, they got a lot more benefits. That’s all I was to them. A meal ticket.”
“Baby, I’m so sorry.”
“Well, I wish I could say it ended there, but it didn’t. My eighteenth birthday was approaching and it would bring my freedom. But as it came and went, they kept me locked in my room.” Tears obscure my vision and my body quivers before I reiterate the next events. “He, uh...he came in my room one night.” I swallow a hard gulp of air. “And told me it was his duty to teach me how to please a man.” My voice falters.
Angelo says something in Italian, which I’m sure is cursing. “Please tell me he didn’t…”
“No. But he tried. I fought him all the time. Because he was so drunk, it was easy to get him off. But then she came in one night with a knife. She was supposed to threaten me with it, but she stumbled and stabbed me.”
Another slew of Italian escapes his lips.
“They couldn’t take me to the hospital, so she stitched me up. When they allowed me to use the bathroom, I stole medical supplies and hid them in a backpack. And then when he came back in to
…”
“You don’t need to say it, angel.”
“Well, I kicked him as hard as I could in the groin. He went down and I ran. I grabbed my bag and kept running and slipped onto the train. And I ran here and Alice took me in.”
He nuzzles my hair and whispers, “I’ll make them pay, baby. I promise.”
“Hello, princess,” my father hisses.
My eyes spring open to find I'm shrouded in darkness. I feel across the fabric to discover I'm in bed, though it's not my own. Trepidation seeps into my skin as I try to recall my most recent events. Yesterday at the club, my parents found me, but Angelo took me back to the safety of his house. This must be a dream.
“Wakey, wakey, sleepy head,” the chilling voice of my father says, instilling fear and paralyzing me. I'm not dreaming.
A sudden burst of light causes me to shield my eyes with my hand, tightening the cuff around my wrist. As my eyes adjust, I gaze at my wrist, to discover the restraint, attached to the bedpost of my old bed. My widening eyes dart around the room, to find I'm back in my prison. My heart pounds against my chest as I whimper.
Where's Angelo? Why am I here? How did they capture me?
“Oh, princess. I've missed my baby girl so much,” he says, leaning over me with a sly, sadistic smile on his lips. He reaches out a hand to stroke my hair.
“Let me go,” I growl.
He laughs, “Now, why would I do that? Your mother and I have been so worried about you.”
As I glance around the room in search of her, I find she's absent, though this doesn't quell my fears. She's preparing some macabre act to inflict on me, I'm sure.
Her voice reaches my ears before she enters my peripheral vision. “You little brat. Thought you could get away? Get us in trouble again?”
Though she keeps her hands behind her back, I know she's holding a knife, the same way she would present it to me so long ago.
“Stay away from me!” I scream, lashing my legs out as I try to kick her away.
“Hold her down,” she orders my father.
He grabs my ankles, working his hands up my legs before sitting on them.
“No,” I scream as the tears slither down my face.
Twisted City: (Twisted City Book 1) Page 34