As I feel the burn of humiliation begin to travel up my chest, the heat raising the temperature of my blood, I harden myself. My eyes narrow as if this random male were my next hit. I can almost feel a vial of poison – a feeling I haven’t had to endure in months. As my chest heaves with new exhales, I steady my venomous thoughts and decide gentle is a better approach.
“I think it’s a little disrespectful to be rude to a member of the Dio Lavoro when you’re here to celebrate what my father has created. I might not be what you all think I was, but I’m still an Abbiati and all I would have to do is click my fingers and someone, preferably Giovanni, will have your head on a silver platter. Think before you disrespect Italian royalty, coglione.”
I could argue until I’m blue in the face, but I refuse to entice them. I uphold my end of the bargain to seem dutiful when inside I think my father has destroyed everything my grandfather, and great-grandfather before him, has created. They don’t need to know that, so I head to the kitchen, finally finding solitude in the quiet room where working staff prepare drinks. I’d rather them watching me than the angry mob that ridiculed me. When the door opens again, I ready myself for a second onslaught, but I’m met with a beautiful brunette, who just stares at me wide-eyed, as if in shock. I have no idea who she is, but I have this feeling she knows me.
“Sorry, I can leave,” I suggest, pointing to the door.
“No, don’t be silly,” she says, giggling a little at my lunacy. “We can both hide in here.” She goes over to the table of alcohol and starts to look among the bottles, surveying them. I awkwardly stand here watching, wishing I could leave and find a new place to hide out. But when she turns back, she approaches me with a friendly stance. She extends a hand and I see a warm introduction about to occur between us. “I’m Pippa,” she introduces herself. Her smile is inviting, as is her attitude, so I take her hand in mine, but regret it immediately as her fingers tighten, her nails begin to dig in and she pulls me forward. As she does so, her face falls, and she becomes twisted with anger. “Marius’ fiancée.”
“Oh,” I gasp, allowing her to outdo with her strength. I’m stunned momentarily – Marius had a fiancée?
“Is that all you have to say to the woman whose life you destroyed?” she croons, her words snarl and lash at me, cutting deeper than she could even know. “We were supposed to get married tomorrow, but instead of getting excited over my wedding, I’ve had to spend my time cancelling plans and mourning the love of my life.” She moves, this time getting closer to the block of knifes. “And all because of you.”
The woman, who walked around outside so poised and eloquent, is now a disheveled shadow of her former self. She’s wild, enraged, riding off her grief and I fully understand this persona – I once used it to do wrong. She’s the aftermath of my actions. I am being dealt the reminders that my every action had lasting consequences.
“You must know the man he really was,” I begin to say, striving for some forms of strengths. “The life he was mixed up in, Pippa. He had it coming.”
“Well, then,” she remarks, taking a step forward, “that makes this easier for me.”
Her comment unnerves me, and I begin to shake. “What?”
“Killing you, you sick, twisted bitch! You murdered all across Manhattan for so long and I am sick and tired of hearing how sweet, beautiful Amelia is the princess everyone should fear.” Her anger is beginning to unleash; the more she speaks, the more unhinged she’s becoming. “You don’t scare me, though.” Her eyes narrow, her glare becoming menacingly heavy on me. “I knew this party was happening and Marius wanted nothing more than to be a part of it, so I decided to make sure his name isn’t forgotten by killing the woman who killed him.”
I can feel the room getting smaller. My sins are racing to catch up to me, and I know I cannot run forever. I knew this day would come, but now that it has, I’m not ready or willing to give up.
“You do know that he wanted me?” I ask her, casually backing away to put a counter between us. “He came to a house knowing he’d have a moment of lust with me and didn’t even think to tell me about you, Pippa. No, he told me how he wanted Zane dead so I could see he was the man who loved me right.”
“You’re lying,” she tells me, defying my comment.
“I don’t lie over business,” I remark, making sure I’m sickly sweet. I steel myself for the overload of killer instincts. I need that persona to mask me and protect me right now. “If anything, I tend to gloat about it.”
“I know that to be a lie,” she says, moving around the middle counter, and I mirror her to keep the distance. “You tried to kill your own father because you wanted out. You fell in love and found another purpose. I was Marius’. We were going to get married and leave this life! Until you took it away from me.”
I make a run for the door, hoping that once I’m out in the crowds, I can get lost in order to find my way out to safety. However, Pippa’s quick, and as I near the door, she tackles me from the side and we fall tangled to the ground. It’s while lying there winded that I find myself with an intense pain in my thigh. I look down and find a knife sticking out of my leg.
“Fuck,” I say as I begin to get myself away from Pippa. In a few seconds, we’ve gone from arguing to really showing how serious this moment is. I pull the knife from my leg and toss it aside. Thankfully, it didn’t go all the way in or this would be ending much differently.
I scramble to my feet as Pippa does the same. I’m in no mood for a full-on brawl in the middle of a fucking kitchen with someone whose better half had it coming. What I did for Zane might be seen as psychotic, but I only did it because I loved him and I was scared to lose him.
I loved to the point of death. That consuming blossom in my heart was addictive and tainted, and I took as much of it as I could out of greed. I wanted more time with the man I loved. All my actions derive from that one statement – I wanted a piece of my forever. No one would stop me.
Now, here I am with the biggest backlash of my life.
“You know, people like those in your family are who the devil looks forward to punishing,” she jests, provoking the anger in me now. “Your family is nothing but monsters and there is no hope for people like you. That knife was meant for your heart.”
I don’t get time to react. I’m speechless and at a loss of what to say regarding what my family is made up of. Yes, there are monsters, but not all of us are corrupt and rotten to the core. In my hesitating with thought, Pippa sees her opportunity and delivers a solid slap to my face. My head flies to the side, and I’m stunned as pain prickles to life before screaming out across my cheek. I hold my cheek before looking up at her. It’s now that I take my stand. I might not want to fight, but I won’t allow her to get away with any more than she has.
We fight, nails scratching, fists smacking against skin, and I know that there are multiple instruments I could use as an aid to finishing this, but that’s not what I want. Instead, I give Pippa one final shove, deciding not to continue to fight like two cats or opt to kill her. I’m supposed to be exuding power tonight, but that doesn’t mean I have to execute it as well. On her way down, Pippa slams into the countertop, winding her as she drops, and I watch her head quite literally bounce off the granite tiles.
When she doesn’t move immediately, my entire adrenaline level depletes and I’m left holding myself up. I start to mentally take note of what scrapes I’m going to walk away with and I think I’ve gotten away lightly, apart from my thigh – fucking ouch, is all I can think now that I’ve stopped moving! My leg feels weaker as I feel warm blood flow down it. I know I have to get out of here and fast before someone catches me. I just need to somehow get home and fix myself up. Thankfully, with the dress I’m wearing, the skirt helps to conceal what’s really wrong with my leg.
I walk around the kitchen to grab a towel and start to mop the blood away. As I draw up my leg and push down on the wound, I whimper. This is going to leave a mark, that’s for sure.
“Cat fight,” I say, shrugging. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” I take the towel away, trying my hardest to conceal it. When I notice movement from Pippa, I look down and nod at her. “Watch her,” I tell Enzo, looking over at Pippa as she grips her hip. “She hit her head pretty fucking hard on her way down.”
Enzo reaches for me as I leave, pulling me back with a gentle tug.
“Are you okay?” he asks me first, his tone low and comforting. “Don’t think I didn’t see the towel. What the hell happened in here? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, giving a forced smile. “I’m going home. This is all bullshit, and I can’t stay here. Will you cover for me?”
“Amelia,” he begins, trying to break me down slightly. When he sees I won’t relent, he sighs. “Sure thing. We won’t be home late.”
“Okay,” I say and finally slip away from his calm aura.
I leave the kitchen, trying hard to keep the limp I’m struggling with hidden from everyone. As I pass crowds of people, I see Zane and Carlo standing together, causing Manuel to laugh carelessly. When Manuel looks up at me, I wink and offer a small smile.
It’s then I decide to leave – just as Carlo and Zane follow Manuel’s glance. I walk through the rest of the building, out of the cloistered rooms, ones so full of expectation, memories, and alcohol, and down to our care where Matty faithfully awaits us.
As I slide into the backseat of the car, using the skirt of my dress to cover my wound, I look at the door and see no one following.
I should be thankful no one followed me out, but inside, I’m hurt that no one bothered.
***
I pretended to be asleep when they all came back home. I heard my door open, whispered, hushed voices spoke between them as they decided I was sound asleep and I was left alone again. Not long after that, I did drift off, but now I’m awake with the intense pain radiating in my leg from the stab wound Pippa delivered.
I throw back my covers, and immediately through the moonlight, I see my bed stained with red and force myself toward the edge of my bed. I look down at my thigh and notice the bandage I applied was never going to help when I’d haphazardly stuck it in place.
Well, if this is all I’m taking away from my first fight with karma, I guess I should start counting my lucky fucking stars now.
I force myself to stand, the feat itself excruciating, and I look at the blackened outline of my bathroom door. Through the darkness, I know this is going to be a killer walk, but I stumble my way forward, slamming my hand onto the light switch to emblazon the room with artificial light. I hitch my foot onto the closed toilet and try to logically think of where to start with this. I know I should call for help, but what’s the point? I can do this alone.
“Crap,” I curse, as I begin to peel the tape away from holding the shoddy plaster in place.
“Amelia.” Enzo’s hushed tone cracks through the silence in my bathroom, and I freeze. “I knew I shouldn’t have just let you leave earlier.”
“I’m fine,” I say, and continue to lift the stupid plaster from my thigh. “Nothing a quick clean-up won’t solve.”
“Let me see,” Enzo says, trying to get a look at my leg.
I shake my head, not willing to accept help easily. “Why are you up anyway?” I ask coldly, hoping my hostility toward him will make him leave. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“I wasn’t asleep,” he counters, disregarding my off behavior. I could tell he hadn’t been asleep by the way his voice traveled so clearly. “I knew you were hurt, but I also know how much self-preservation you have, so I stayed but only to cover for you with the others. When I came home and found you asleep, I decided to leave you, but I haven’t managed to catch a wink of sleep since.” He gives me a sympathetic look when I look at him. “When I heard movement, I knew it was you.”
“I’m okay,” I admonish, my voice so small I’m amazed it even traveled through the dead air.
Enzo steps into the room, and I know that once again, my savior is here to see through the masks and facades I wrap so vehemently around myself. “Far from it, Lia,” he tells me, his tone such a gentle note that I know that finally I’m getting the father I always wait for from Salvatore.
It’s as his hand comes to touch my arm and I’m braced with physical contact that the cracks I’ve been clinging onto throb and all the ties I’ve used to hold myself together begin to break. I shatter and I’m finally entering my freefall, but now I’m too weak to fly.
I know it’s time to ask for help. I can no longer do this on my own.
I sigh, knowing I’m not going to get away with this anymore. Taking a deep breath, I begin to turn on the spot, bringing my leg down, trying hard not to jolt my leg and cause more pain to it. I remove my hand from my thigh, my own blood staining its palm, and prepare myself to look up at my brother.
“Your leg,” he gasps, horror lacing around him. Immediately, he’s on his knees before me, inspecting the still bleeding wound. I trust Enzo to care for me, after years of being one of the leads in this family, he’s picked up a thing or two about treating scrapes, grazes, cuts. “Fuck, Lia. You shouldn’t have left this. You shouldn’t have hidden this!”
“It barely went in,” I comment softly, looking up at the ceiling as he suddenly pushes one of my luxury bathroom towels to my leg. “It’s not the worst thing to have happened to me.”
“It’s the worst thing right now,” he tells me, his voice now gruff with worry. “I’m going to go downstairs and grab the first aid kit and we’ll get you cleaned up.” He stands, taking the towel away and begins to lead me back to my bed, his arms wrapped around me as if he knows I’m just too fragile to master one short distance alone. “Sit.”
He leaves but not until he plants a kiss onto the top of my head.
Once I’m alone, the quietness taunts me. Now, abandoned and isolated, every fleeting emotion I tried to ignore comes back with a furious vengeance. The one that wins above them all is guilt. It reigns on, destroying every fiber of me, rendering me weaker than I already feel. I tore apart another woman’s happiness just to get a glimpse of mine. I have never been shown the true effects of my actions until then. Of course, my mind had wondered if families were out there somewhere looking for those who have been killed due to the name of the Dio Lavoro. But never had I dwelled. Pippa was all my hits incarnate. She represented more than Marius’ death. She was the biggest person to tear me down because she was living proof that I’m a destroyer. I destroy lives, loves, families, and futures. My destruction knows no end because of who I’ve become.
I slip from my bed and pull my knees up to my chest. The ice melts from around me, thawing out my entire being, and I’m left with the mess I kept so well hidden. I’m not brutal or heartless. I’m damaged and doing anything to not meet my own death sentence. Yet in doing so, I’m only slowly killing myself. I ruin people’s lives merely to see a new day – how long can I live with that destructiveness guiding me?
Burying my head in my hands, I cry unashamedly. Now, after months, I don’t care who sees, who will hear me, or who will find me. Cathartically, I shed every ounce of shame, grief, and horror I’ve lived with along with the woefulness that’s become a vast friend of mine. My legs pull closer to my chest and I try my fucking hardest to make myself as small as possible. I release my head, only to wrap my arms around my legs and bury my head into the concave my legs have formed.
I hear feet pad across the wooden flooring of my room, traveling closer, the speed fastening until arms wrap around me and I find myself in the solace Enzo always offers me. I didn’t think it was plausible to cry harder than I am, but I dissolve furthermore. I collapse against his chest, my hands gripping his top, as my cries turn into howls and I just let everything flow free.
> He holds me, his hand rubbing soothing circles onto my back, as he remains silent and just listens to my every cry. Unquestioningly, he becomes everything I need and without me so much as trying to verbalize what it is I actually want. My big brother is so much more than the heir to the Abbiati name. He’s the warrior, the protector, the lover, the one who morphs to become whatever we need him to be. He’s the true father of this dysfunctional family and I cannot thank whatever God is looking down on me for allowing me such a man to call my brother. I would’ve sunk into the deepest pit of hell without him to keep me steady and strong.
“Talk to me,” Enzo speaks, but only when my cries begin to soften. He pulls himself away from me, keeping me close enough to look, but far enough to get an explanation from me. “What’s brought this on?”
"I'm a monster, Enzo, and the only reason I can see why is because I had my heart broken." And that’s the truth of the matter. Everything that has happened until this point is a doctrine of effects because I was allowed to follow my heart and I wore it so proudly on my sleeve for Zane until he took off and left me shattered and impressionable.
"Twice by the same guy," he states, trying to make it sound like I'm an automatic exception that should be pardoned.
"I'm not the only person to go through that. But I lost so much in one day, and before I knew it, I was too far gone. I know I'm not worth a savior anymore. I know I don't deserve one and I don't deserve some form of redemption. I'm a killer and there are only two scenarios for people like me," I say and look up at my brother with watery eyes and trembling lip. "Prison or death."
“No,” he whispers aghast. “Lia, you cannot let whatever our father has presented you with to define what you become forever. We have all done things we are not happy with, things that will haunt us for life, but you cannot allow that to decide where you end up in life.”
“Why not?” I ask back, my voice a pained rasped. “I destroy people’s lives, and for what? To get some small glimpse of satisfaction from a man I call Papà?” I look at him, my incredulity mounting. “Do you know how disappointed Madre would be if she were to be here now? She’d hate us all for allowing Papà to rule us like he does. He ruined us, Enzo. He ruined me.”
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