“No, no,” she cries, shaking her head. Manuel is rubbing his cock on her lips.
I see myself.
I see myself in her. I'm on the floor, like her, I wait for Dad to come back and stop everything. I wait for somebody to come and send this monster away. I wait. I cry for help.
“Help me,” she begs. She is asking me for help.
Nobody gave it to me.
“Help me, please!” She cries. She stops punching her fists against Manuel and stretches out a hand toward me.
She’s looking for me.
Nobody was there for me when the same thing happened to me. Not anyone protected me. But now I am here for her. I'm here, I can save her, I can protect her, I can avoid the same thing I've been through.
I can.
I can no longer see out of anger. So I get up and make the chair fall on the rough cement.
“That's enough!” I shout.
Manuel doesn’t stop, he continues to press his cock on her sealed lips. Her face is full of tears.
“Stop!” I growl. But he doesn’t.
He doesn’t stop.
“Stop, it’s enough!” I cry.
“Nobody is coming.”
Instead I'm here. And I act out.
I pull Manuel away from her and throw him back against the wall.
I. Am. A. Beast.
I massacre him. He still has his pants down, I keep kicking and punching him. His ski mask is soon full of blood. My eyes are coming out of the orbits out of anger, I hear nothing, I see nothing, except for the parasite who fucked my mouth when I was only twelve years old, he who is now receiving my body’s anger; the same anger that I cultivated for him and for the past that has made me the shit I am today.
Manuel can’t even respond to my fury. He’s so stoned that he doesn’t have the strength to contrast my blows. Instead, I am an animal, a tiger who is about to tear to pieces the one who dared to touch something precious.
I hear the sound of her crying and I turn for a moment to her trembling figure. She is covering her face with her hands and her whining is more intense than before.
When I realize that Manuel's face couldn’t be recognizable anymore, I take him by the collar and throw him to the ground, giving him the. final blow.
He doesn’t move anymore.
If I didn’t kill him, he fainted.
I turn my - still panicked - eyes to her. I'm trembling just as much as the small abused angel. When she realizes that the noise of broken bones around her has calmed down, she slowly lifts her head and looks at me with those big abused eyes.
I will never forget her face. It's like I'm looking into the mirror and I'm seeing my face in hers.
I reach her slowly so slowly that in that time I can recreate my happy ending in my head;
Dad coming and sending away that guy; Dad comforting and telling me he loves me.
She stops shaking, she stares at me aware of being safe. I lean toward her, at a distance, stretch out my hand and offer it to her. She looks at my fingers, hidden by the gloves. I feel I have to give her new security.
“You can trust me,” I whisper. My voice is a tormented whisper.
Her hand nears me trembling in the space and rests on my palm. I take it and help her to get up, but she is weak and falls into my arms.
I take her in my arms. she wraps her frozen arms around my neck, rests her head on my chest and now I don’t feel pins, but soft feathers that caress me and don’t hurt.
I'm fine.
I'm fine because I saved her.
I saved her and, in my head, myself too.
“It's all over. I am here.”
“Thank you.”
My chin rests on her forehead. I want to warm her up. I want to keep her with me until she's okay. I want her to be fine. I want her to stop thinking about what has just happened to her. I want her never to cry anymore. I want her to free her mind and fill it with beautiful things. I don't want her to leave her soul in this place. I want her to look to the future. I want her to bounce back. I want her to be happy.
I want everything for her.
* * *
I unbutton the cuffs of her shirt and roll them up. She is shocked. I can believe it. It’s absurd that I stay here all night, but I am terrorized by the thought that Manuel will get her and follow through with his threat.
The thought frightens me. Imagining he could touch her again or complete what he wasn’t able to finish, pushes me into the depths of fear I had never experienced before.
I swore to myself that I would protect her forever.
“W-what are you doing?” She passes her hand over her neck and I envy those little fingers that caress her. I move toward her and she steps back, as usual.
“Get comfortable, I have no intention of sharing the bed with you.” She looks around frightened. “The armchair will be fine.” I put my hands in my pockets to reassure her. I always think She’s afraid of my hands, of my touch.
“I don’t understand why you have to spend the night with me.”
“Spend the night with you?” I reply maliciously.
“I didn't mean that.” She blushes and it’s a show for my eyes.
“Change and go to sleep! I'll stay away from you, unless you want to…”
“Oh, shut up!” she throws her hands in the air and turns, takes clothes from the bed, flees to the bathroom and locks the door.
I smile for the pleasure of having caused that delicious flush in her face. At least I’m not able just to hurt her. Maybe, when I want, I am able to give her different feelings.
I head to the armchair and flop on it exhausted. I'm not drunk, I'm just tired of stressing my brain over her. Certainly I didn’t miss having to deal with her security. I put my head on the backrest and unhook the fly of my pants that is squishing me. She hasn’t come back yet, but the air is full of her lovely glow.
She's a wonderful woman. I still think of the effect she has on me; she can melt the corners of my body invaded by frost. She melts that frost and brings the warmth of desire. I massage my forehead, maybe I am really drunk, since my mind has decided to remind me of how much I want her. I hear the door banging and I see her appear; without looking at me.
I sigh so strongly that I draw her attention. She's incredibly sexy even with those pajamas of hers: snug leggings and the baggy shirt that uncovers a shoulder. She’s still wearing the necklace that cost me a fortune. She’s not wearing a bra, shit. Her nipples are well in sight; two turgid peaks that arouse my most erotic desires. I move on the armchair, something down there - in my pants - decided to make my intention of remaining motionless impossible.
Even if she doesn’t look at me, she knows I am staring at her, and I hope she isn’t convinced I'm contemplating her in my mind. She has removed her make-up and her natural beauty reminds me of the young girl begging me to help her. I bite my tongue to look for the pain I would have felt in her place.
She moves her hair to one side and her uncovered shoulder becomes an obsessive image. The brilliant necklace shines on her skin, but, in the end, it’s not as precious as she is in her total beauty.
She starts removing the pillows from the bed and throws them angrily on the floor. I'm totally bewitched.
“I don’t know if you realize that it's really ridiculous that you stay here.”
“Good night to you, too,” I reply as she lays under the blankets.
“It's disturbing to know you're gonna be staring at me all night.”
“Close your eyes and shut that mouth!”
“Turn off the light,” she bursts. She is too covered, damn it, I can’t see her face well from here.
“Turn off the light… please,” I insist.
“Turn off the light and that’s it!”
Impertinent. I’d like to jump on that bed and sink my teeth into her neck.
“So?” she screams, pulling herself up.
I puff and I do what she’s asks. The room is dark, but the lanterns in the garden are en
ough to create a dim light that doesn’t stop me from looking at her.
Before I sit down, I go to the bed. Her eyes are closed, but she can hear me.
“Don’t try to touch me,” she says calmly.
“You’re still wearing the necklace.”
“I’m keeping it on,” she answers, keeping her eyes closed. I bend down and I am at the height of her face. I'm totally charmed by this woman.
“Do you like it?” I whisper, low, very low. She opens her eyes and her gaze becomes a real touch on my skin.
“It's very beautiful, I really like it.”
“I chose it for you.” I sit my butt on the ground and my back on the bedside table. She seems embarrassed.
“Are you going to sleep on the floor?” She's so cute covered up to her chin.
“No, but I want to stay here a bit.”
“Your butt will get ice cold."
I smile, but I don’t stop looking at her. She is about to share the smile, but she holds it back.
Why don’t you smile at me?
“You can't feel cold if you are already frozen.”
She stares at my lips, savoring the meaning of my words. I hope she understands that certain behaviors depend on the frost I have inside and that she is not a bad thing. I don’t hate her, but I just want to keep my distance.
You're admitting too many things.
“Get back on the armchair,” she turns over and closes her eyes, licking her lips with her tongue and rubbing her face on the pillow. “You’re bothering me here.”
I don’t move, my back on the bedside table, legs folded, elbows on my knees, my head turned toward her.
“You're still here…” she puffs.
“I'll stay here.”
“Why?”
Open your eyes for me.
“Because I like to look at you.”
Her lips open and a whisper passes between them. I can’t see well, but I bet her cheeks are red and if I put an ear on her chest, I would hear her heart beating in the same way mine is beating.
Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.
I hear it in the air, it's so perceptible.
She no longer answers and I like to think that she agrees that I’m so close to her and that I watch her sleeping. A short time later, I understand she has fallen asleep by the rhythm of her breathing. I stretch out my hand with the intention of removing a lock of hair from her face, but I stop because I have no right to touch her. It’s not allowed, I don't deserve her, I fear I'll hurt her even with a caress.
I hold my fingers in a fist and retract my hand. I’m burning up, I feel my skin suffering from that lack of contact.
“May you ever forgive me?” I whisper.
Shit.
It slipped out. I hope she didn’t hear it, I pray she is really sleeping. I swallow that sentence, even though it has come out as a desperate request. I feel my eyes twitch, but it's not tiredness, it's emotion; it's a deep feeling. It’s the effect of the sweetness she lets off.
I decide to move to keep me from hurting myself. It’s unbearable to have her here under my eyes and I can’t touch her, I can’t have her.
I’d like to have her, just once, even if it was the last gift of this senseless life. When I get up, I feel that she perceives my distance and moves under the blankets. She turns on her belly, but keeps her face in my direction. I stand watching her but I am afraid the noise of my heart may wake her up. I don’t want to disturb her more than I have already done, but I can’t move. My head, my heart, my body are completely captured by her sleeping figure.
I keep looking at her and feel the cracks of the frozen wrapper containing my heart relax and finally begin to melt. I see words, phrases, and I imagine writing them with my fingers on her skin.
I’ve dedicated to her every summer rain.
I’ve dedicated to her every frosty winter.
I've dedicated to her every cut on my skin.
I've dedicated to her every curse.
I’ve dedicated to her every sleepless night.
I’ve dedicated to her every pure thought.
I've dedicated to her all my anger…
And she doesn’t even know it.
She doesn’t know.
You must let her go.
I can’t do it. You can’t let someone go away if she's never been yours. You can’t interrupt a desire without having satisfied it. You can’t understand love without…
I cover my face with my hands and scold myself for the absurd things my mind suggests to me.
I tighten my fists, grit my teeth and search for the contempt I feel for the woman who’s invaded my mind for years, like a bacterium.
She is not Beauty.
She is my ruin.
I don’t want her in my mind. I don’t want her on my skin. I don’t want her in my heart.
Az… ne… ya iskam. I don’t want her.
My mind has made its decision. I see her tossing, disturbed, in the bed. She moves shaking her head and moaning laments.
She's dreaming.
I open my eyes wide, terrified by the nightmare that is certainly frightening her in her sleep.
I approach the bed and sit on a free space. She fidgets, a lot, too much.
“Ambra...” I call her, I don’t want her to live that scene again. “Ambra…”
If there is a God, I would like him to give me the chance to go in her head to protect her again.
“Ambra!” I repeat loud, to wake her up. I can’t touch her.
“Krum…” She is saying my name. She's looking for me.
“I'm here!” My hands surround her face. She is sweaty and cold.
“Krum! Krum!”
She yells my name and she pulls up jumps, leaning on me and hiding her face on my chest. I hold her. She hugs me, holds on to my shirt tight and pinches my skin. I feel her nails sinking into my back.
“I'm here, Ambra. I'm here, it's over. It was just a nightmare.” I'm panting with her, terrified by the awareness of what she has lived again.
“Don’t go away, don’t go away…”
“I'm not leaving.” I cradle her in my arms, she lets me rock her. My lips brush against her head and they enjoy that silky touch of her scented hair.
“Stay with me.”
“I'll stay with you. I’m not leaving you.”
I feel her so close.
Her panting fades, but not her grip around my chest. I massage her back, it’s damp and sweaty. She pulls up on her knees, hugging me more. I spread my legs and let her curl up in the middle, rubbing her forehead on my neck.
I feel the tip of her nose, then her lips and I hold her head firmly in the socket of my neck.
She falls asleep in my arms. Even if It’s night, but I have never seen so much light in my life like in this moment.
18
AMBRA
Seven years before.
I rub the back of my hand across my lips. I still sense that man's taste. It's poison. He’s slowly contaminating me. I’ll get sick and never recover again.
“Drink some water.” My kidnapper passes me a full glass. “Slowly or you'll get sick.”
I drink, swallowing slowly. If he thinks I can trust him, he's totally wrong. I saw how he remained motionless enjoying the show, with those immobile and absent eyes, catapulted who knows where, while I was stripped of essential pieces: dignity, freedom, body and soul.
I put my glass on the table and stop looking at him, even though I recognize that it’s really difficult not to look at him. I also thanked him and I am deeply ashamed. I resume the lost lucidity and look around. The room is small, there is a very high window and a door just steps away from me. I could run out, as the other man is lying in the garage, maybe half-dead.
“How long have I been here?”
“Three and a half weeks.”
“Th-three?” I'm speechless. I can’t believe I’ve been here for so long.
“Are you hungry?” he gets up and looks in a bag, from which
he pulls out a sandwich. I notice that my fingers haven’t ceased trembling and I try to stop them by trapping them in a fist.
He puts the sandwich on the table, I take it, look at him and…
“Take me home!” I scream, throwing it at him.
He leaps from the chair and runs to me. I'm terrified again.
He grabs my hair behind my neck and pulls my head back, growling a few inches from my face.
“I’ve just avoided you being raped by that bastard, you could show a bit of gratitude!” He pulls harder and I bow my back to avoid opposing him and so to get hurt. “Now you're going to eat the sandwich you've dropped on the ground, you'll finish it, get some more water and then go back to the garage. That's your place!”
I lament, groan, but I don’t want him to think I can be intimidated by this absurd attitude. For a moment I thought he could help me get home, but I was wrong. He's cruel, as usual.
The ring of his cell phone interrupts us. My skin has finally stopped burning from his grasps.
“Hello?” I try to limit my sighs, hoping to be able to hear his interlocutor. Something is heard, but it’s not clear. “We'll talk again soon. It was necessary.”
I suppose they knew what happened and my heart was thumping hard to think that the other kidnapper woke up.
“I don’t care,” he snorts, but then becomes meek. “All right. I didn’t want to oppose you. I'll take care of her.” He pauses and then says: “It will be done.”
What will be done? My God!
I sit back on the chair. His promise doesn’t reassure me, seeing the way he looks at me. The phone call ends and he puts the phone in his pocket.
I hear a noise behind me and I jump up. That monster has his ski mask drenched in blood. If he was unrecognizable before, I can’t imagine his face now. Instinctively I run to my kidnapper and hide behind his back. He pushes me even further behind, telling me that he wants to continue to protect me.
“You're dead,” the other mutters, holding his stomach and trying to stand up.
“I haven’t finished with you yet,” my kidnapper replies.
He wants it all Page 18