Stay

by Chelsea Camaron

  His hand moved up my side, scrunching my nightgown as he roamed. The rough sensation of his fingertips gave me goose bumps. I kept my thighs closed together as he rocked over me.

  “Feel me, Fallyn. Do you feel me? I need release, baby girl. You’ll give me that, won’t you, my girl?”

  I wanted to vomit.

  Fourteen Mississippi. Fifteen Mississippi.

  I swallowed hard, trying not to puke all over him. His forehead dropped to my pillow beside my head, his breathing heavy, and I hoped with all my might he hadn’t passed out on top of me. He paused like that for what took me three more counts in my mind. Then his tongue darted out, and he licked my ear.

  Don’t move, I told myself. I fought the urge to wipe my now wet earlobe as he slid a hand between my legs, trying to push my thighs apart. Getting aggravated, he grunted before sitting up and roughly separating my legs then settling himself back over me.

  “Greedy, greedy, girl. You’re gonna give me what I want.”

  My insides screamed from his weight and from the fear of what was to come. It was going to burn. The sting was coming, and I was helpless to stop it. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run until my legs couldn’t carry me anymore.

  I blinked.

  “There you are, pretty girl. I knew you would wake up and give me what I want.” Father smiled down at me, happy with me. This was the only time he was ever happy with me.

  He rolled off me and to my side. Taking my hand, he sucked and bit each of my fingertips before guiding my hand down to his underwear where he slid my small hand up and down his length. He grew in my hand, swelling thicker and thicker with each stroke.

  I blinked back my tears. Tonight, I failed. I didn’t stay calm enough. The fear of him on top of me instead of beside me won. Now I paid the price. Father had felt every inch of me and I, unfortunately, him. He had never put ‘it’ inside me, though, and that was my one reprieve. For a moment, I thought he was headed there tonight, and I lost control. I showed my truth. As a result, I knew sleep wouldn’t be found until he was finished.

  He stopped me then moved to take off his underwear and shirt before climbing back into my bed. He slid his hand up my nightgown and pinched my nipple harshly. My underdeveloped breasts ached in pain from his attentions, and I cried out.

  “Yes, Fallyn, feel me,” he whispered against my ear, his hot breathe making me squirm away from him. “That’s it,” he encouraged as I tried to still myself and stop reacting to all of it.

  He moved his hand down, into my panties, and I tensed. His fingers were … right … there.

  I screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

  “Angel,” I hear my stranger’s voice, “wake up.”

  I felt my father beside me. I couldn’t find Giano. I heard him, but I couldn’t find him.

  Panic filled me as I looked over my father’s shoulder to where a man stood beside my bed.

  Those eyes. Those familiar eyes.

  I jerked up in the pink and white canopy bed I had come to call home, covered in sweat. I blinked and found Giano sitting on the bed beside me.

  “It’s okay, angel. It was a nightmare. You’re safe.”

  I relaxed and fell over, landing on his chest. Slowly, he wrapped an arm around me and rubbed my back as I fought to get my breathing under control. Thinking hard, I tried to figure out what had me so panicked, but my mind was blank.

  “Wanna talk about it?” he asked.

  I focused on trying to recall what had me so worked up. It was obvious I had a bad dream, but I didn’t remember it. I shook my head.

  He pushed me back to my pillow and moved my hair off my face before he went to stand.

  “Please stay,” I choked out as panic filled me at the thought of going back to sleep.

  Without hesitation, he climbed into bed awkwardly beside me.

  Calmly, he stroked my hair, and I found a way to slow my breathing, my thoughts, and eventually drifted back to sleep. Like before, he eventually moved me to my side, and he wrapped himself around me. Surrounded in his scent and safely in his arms, I found a dreamless slumber once again.

  When I woke up, Giano was gone, but I felt well rested even after the nightmare had awakened me. What was it about him that gave me such peace?

  Chapter Eight

  One Year Later

  I had begun the freshman year of high school as Angelina while my thirteen-year-old brain somewhat struggled with the concept of being a fourteen-year-old on the verge of womanhood. Life lessons had long since given me the maturity to pull off being far beyond my years, but genetics and my true age had left me underdeveloped compared to most of the girls at my school.

  A new year as the new me gave me a chance to be a little more comfortable in Angelina’s skin. So far, the whole charade had gone off relatively smoothly, and I had even managed to make a couple of friends who, due to genetics, were just as flat-chested as me. Randi and I had literally bumped into each other during the first period of the first day. Leaving homeroom, I was in a tizzy from trying to remember how to get to the music hall for chorus class. Totally not paying attention, I slammed right into a tiny blonde, knocking her books right out of her hands. She laughed, which made me laugh, and we somehow in the craziness of the day started a new friendship.

  Randi was a pixie of a girl. Short, skinny, no curves, she had short blonde hair she wore like a rock-star spiked up. Heavy on the makeup, she looked like a little fairy girl with a big attitude.

  Along with Randi came Amanda, who asked that her friends call her Mandy. Apparently, the two had been friends since, like, birth—their words, not mine. I guessed their parents were longtime friends, and therefore, their relationship was a built-in best friend forever at conception. Who knew, but hey, it was two new friends for Angelina. This was what normal teenagers did—made friends.

  Amanda was the harsher of the two. Randi was fun loving and full of life. She was quick to speak her mind, but never as an insult unless someone pissed her off. Amanda, on the other hand, was a snob. She looked down on everyone and everything except maybe Randi. Amanda had a serious need to fit in, so much so that she stuffed her bra so no one would know she was as flat as me and Randi.

  Amanda was shaped like a pear with no top and a whole lot of bottom. She called it Kardashian butt; I called it curves. Whatever made her feel better. She definitely had her fair share of haters due to her attitude, but I liked Randi, and she came with Randi. We were fast becoming the three amigas. It felt normal, and that was something I could really use in my life.

  The desire to be seen as normal was what led me to meeting the girls at the mall for some shopping and a pretzel, because everyone knew mall pretzels covered in cinnamon sugar were the absolute best. Who would have thought going for pretzels at the mall would end up almost costing us everything?

  The morning had gone fine. I managed to pick up a handful of cute tops for school and a new pair of jeans. We were at the pretzel stand when it happened.

  “What will it be for Princess Angelina Diamante?” Amanda joked when it was my turn to order.

  She had called me a Princess since the day I had invited her to my house for the first time, and she had seen my overly girly bedroom that was my sanctuary. Even though Giano had offered to redecorate however I wanted, I liked the room just as it was. To me, it was a piece of the real Angelina I wasn’t ready to let go of, and I wasn’t so sure I ever would.

  “Angelina? Is that you?” a female’s voice called out from behind me in line. Turning, I looked at the stranger as panic filled me. My friends seemed to sense the woman wanted my sole attention, so they quickly made their way to a table instead of waiting with me to finish talking to the stranger who evidently knew Angelina.

  Swallowing hard, I nodded.

  She reached out and grabbed me with both hands, pulling me into a tight hug. “Oh, you poor baby. I can’t believe how different you look. I knew the accident was bad, and you had to have surgery and recovery time, but
you … you … You don’t even look like you in the face anymore. Only your hair reminds me of you and”—she gasped, and I felt wetness hit my cheeks—“and … Nylene.” She choked out the last word on a sob.

  Pulling away, I looked up into her eyes and watched as the stranger cried. Fear seized me, and I stood frozen, unable to respond as the woman continued her breakdown.

  The heavens were looking down on me that day because, before I could think of what to do next, Giano appeared by my side. He reached out and hugged the woman, holding her close until she calmed down.

  “Alexandra, it’s been a while,” he softly said into her ear.

  She pulled away and wiped her mascara-smeared eyes. “Giano, she’s beautiful. Nylene…” She hiccupped then exhaled loudly. “Nylene would be so proud.”

  “Yes, she would,” Giano stated solemnly.

  “I miss her. I miss them both,” she added, looking to me.

  My stomach hurt as if I felt her pain and grief.

  “I know you do. It’s been a hard time readjusting. My angel here has been through more than you know. We had to have time to heal, you know.”

  “I understand,” Alexandra replied, nodding her head. She looked intently into Giano’s eyes as if they were having some sort of silent conversation. “Well, I must be going. I’m sorry to disturb your day.” Reaching out, she squeezed my hand then turned to walk away without a second glance back.

  “Order your food, angel, and then I’m afraid we must be going,” Giano commanded, and I quickly followed direction, still unsure of what had just happened.

  I hugged my friends’ good-bye after getting my pretzel. Giano carried my bags out, and then we silently made the ride home where he went directly to making dinner as I put my bags away.

  Entering his space again, I paused when he gestured for me to take a seat. “Angel, we need to discuss today.”

  I nodded my agreement with a thousand questions in my mind.

  “That woman was Alexandra. She was my late wife’s best friend and Angelina’s Godmother.”

  My mouth dropped open in shock as fear hit me hard. How bad had I messed up? Did she see through the façade?

  “After the accident, I had private services. This upset those closest to us. However, I had my reasons. No one knows the truth about Angelina.” He paused as I watched the emotions of losing his wife and daughter hit him once again. “I acquired you, and with the help of some associates, I let the important people think Angelina had to have plastic surgery after the accident. That explained the need to homeschool to outsiders as well as gave us a cover should someone see us together.”

  I fought to keep my tears at bay. Angelina died in the accident with her mother, but she wasn’t completely gone. Her loss was my gain. Her pain had become my opportunity—her life for my freedom.

  The tears fell freely down my face once it hit me that she truly gave me her soul, the spirit of who she was.

  “We have been fortunate until now that we haven’t been seen. Not that we have gone out a lot or to the places I went with my family, but I really thought we would’ve faced this before now. It was bound to happen.”

  “Did I mess up?” I whispered my biggest fear.

  Reaching out, he cupped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “No, angel. I watched you and stepped in when the time was right. You have done well.”

  “You watched me?”

  “I’m never far away. Of course, I watched you.” He answered me so nonchalantly I felt stupid for questioning him.

  I guessed it was smart for him to always be nearby, but again, I had to wonder how he worked if he was always watching me.

  “We can’t be too safe, angel.”

  “I understand.”

  I truly did. I understood the dangers of people knowing who I really was. Giano had committed a crime in keeping me. He had committed a crime in giving me a new identity. My young mind didn’t understand fully how bad things really were, but I knew keeping me safe had come at a price, one Giano would pay if the truth were ever to be revealed.

  After the events of the day, I was determined to not slip up. I would not be caught off guard again. I would protect my stranger the way he had protected me when he had opened his home to me.

  Chapter Nine

  One Year Later

  I managed to make it to tenth grade without one failure as Angelina Nylene Diamante.

  Embarrassment filled me as I entered the house. There was no avoiding it anymore. I could only hide out at Randi’s house for so long.

  What would Giano think when he found out? He had picked me up from Randi’s, and other than a quick hello, I had feigned a headache to keep the ride quiet.

  Once home, I knew I could only put off the inevitable conversation for so long. It was time to fess up and take whatever punishment came.

  “Angel, are you okay? Is it your period?” Giano questioned me cautiously.

  Last year, we had successfully navigated the change in life from girlhood to womanhood. It wasn’t smooth, but Giano had explained the changes in my body and what was to come as well as provided me with the necessary supplies.

  “No, it’s not my period.” If only it were as easy as blaming biology. “I have to tell you something.”

  “You can tell me anything,” he reaffirmed as he slid the chair out at the kitchen table and sat down while extending an arm as invitation for me to do likewise.

  “It’s stupid, really.”

  “Nothing upsetting you this badly is stupid.”

  I took a deep breath. It was better to spill it quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

  “I failed my first assignment.”

  Giano laughed a full-belly laugh. His smile was infectious, gorgeous, and all consuming. I couldn’t help smiling back at him.

  “Did you think I would be angry?”

  I bit my bottom lip and simply nodded my head, my smile falling.

  His smile moved to a stern frown as his dark eyes danced in a mischievous way that only made my insides quiver in fear and something else altogether. “Because I am,” he barked out at me.

  Tears filled my eyes as all of my apprehension of the day washed over me. I sat, unmoving and silent.

  “What did you fail when failure is not an option for us?”

  Breathing deeply, I said, “I failed a culinary assignment today in school.”

  “What do you mean exactly?”

  “Well, this is Intro to Culinary Arts. We went over restaurant planning and managing the house in the first quarter. Now we began cooking basics,” I tried to explain.

  “So cooking, like home economics type of cooking?”

  “Well, no, restaurant cooking. Since this was a basic assignment, Sister Mack felt we should bake an apple pie from scratch. We had to incorporate knife skills into the pastry skills we learned last week when we made cookies, bread loaves, and turnovers using a canned pie filling. With this assignment, we had to peel and core our own apples as well as cook our filling over the stovetop along with making our pie crust.”

  Giano studied me intently. “And you failed this how?”

  “First, I forgot the measurements on the flour for the pie crust, so rather than flakey, mine was dry. Then I broke the apple corer before I could finish prepping my apples. I got so mixed up with what I was doing afterward that I forgot to add brown sugar—okay, sugar period—to my mixture of butter and spices with the apples.

  “After pouring the messed up semi-caramel apple pieces into the overly dry crust, I managed to only rip four of my lattice work top pieces before putting it in the oven where I caught it on fire due to drippings. Sister Mack felt that my inability to overcome my first catastrophe and then allow myself to lose focus was a solid reason to fail me on the assignment.”

  Without allowing me to continue, Giano burst out laughing once again. “My poor, angel, you can’t cook.”

  “This isn’t funny. I failed, Giano. Big, fat F—failed.”

  “I can’t believ
e it.” Then he paused and took a serious face once again. “This is my failure. I haven’t spent any time with you in the kitchen, so how can you be expected to cook? We must rectify this immediately.”

  Hopping up, Giano moved to the refrigerator and quickly brought out apples. He washed them and moved to the island where he set out bowls and began pulling out the dry ingredients necessary.

  “Come on, angel. We have work to do.”

  Moving beside him, I washed my hands and waited. First, he grabbed an apron out of the drawer. Facing me, he draped it over my neck before reaching behind me to the strings. Crossing them behind me, he pulled each one at my side, tugging me closer to him. In order to catch myself, I had to reach up and hold steady against his chest. I could feel his heart beating beneath me, and I felt my own beat harder as I inhaled his scent.

  Once he knotted the strings in front of me, he pulled the hair tie off my wrist that I always wore and proceeded to turn me around. As he took my hair in his hands, his fingertips brushed the curve of my neck, which sent shivers through me. With my hair secure, he then went to the sink and washed his hands before moving beside me at the island again.

  He handed me a paring knife and an apple. When I looked at him like he had lost his mind, he came to stand behind me, his arms encircling me as he took my hands in his. Holding the knife with me in my right hand and the apple together in the left, he began the best baking lesson anyone could ever have.

  “When cutting, angel, one must use the knife as the tool it is intended for. You must respect the power in this weapon. The victim today is Granny Smith, and together, we will strip her bare. Carefully, you place the blade of your knife at a forty-five degree angle to your intended victim.” His breath came down hot on my neck as his hand held mine steady, moving us into position. His front was against my back, our bodies touching in so many places I was lost in sensory overload. “Many people make the mistake of using their force with their knife. No, angel, use the apple and press against the blade so that you keep control of the knife at all times. Only press far enough against it to break the skin. Glide the apple against the smooth metal of your blade.”