Page 70 of Veil of the Past
I nod, but the words feel hollow, empty. How can it not be my fault? How can any of this make sense? I feel like I’m trapped in a nightmare I can’t wake up from, and every time I close my eyes, I see Nonna’s face, pale and still, her blood pooling around her.
I take a shaky breath, feeling the tears burning in my eyes again. “I just… I just need some time,” I whisper. “I need to be alone for a little while. Just… until I can think.”
She nods, her hands still on my face, her touch gentle, comforting. “Of course, sweetheart,” she says. “We’ll give you some space. But if you need anything… anything at all…” I nod again, and she leans in to press a kiss to my forehead. “I love you, Alessia,” she whispers, and I feel a tear slip down my cheek.
My dad steps forward, his face still tight with guilt. “We’re here for you,” he says quietly. “Whenever you’re ready to talk… we’re here.”
I nod, feeling a fresh wave of exhaustion wash over me. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
They leave the room, closing the door softly behind them, and I’m alone again. I lie back against the pillows, my heart still racing, my mind still spinning. I close my eyes, trying to block out the images, the sounds, the memories, but they’re there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to drag me under.
I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know how to find my way back to solid ground. I feel like I’m drifting, lost in a sea of confusion and fear, and I don’t know which way is up, which way is out. I press my hands to my chest, feeling the rapid beat of my heart, trying to ground myself, to find something real to hold on to.
I hear Romiro’s voice in my head, calm and steady, guiding me through the breathing exercises, and I try to focus on that, to anchor myself to his words, to his presence. But it’s hard. So damn hard.
Why did this happen? Why us? Why Nonna?
The questions swirl in my mind, relentless, unforgiving. I feel the tears start to fall again, and I let them because I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to fix this, how to make it right. I feel so lost, so broken, and I don’t know how to put myself back together.
I curl up on the bed, pulling the blanket tight around me, and I close my eyes, letting the darkness take over—because at least in the darkness, I don’t have to see. I don’t have to think. I can just… breathe.
37
ROMIRO
Iwatch Alessia as she sits by the window, staring out at nothing. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, loose strands falling around her face, her skin pale in the dim light of the room. She looks so small, so fragile. Like if I reached out to touch her, she might shatter into a thousand pieces.
She’s barely moved for hours, barely spoken since we brought her back. I feel a knot tightening in my chest, a heavy weight pressing down on me. I hate seeing her like this, so distant, so far away from me. And I know it’s my fault. All of it.
I pace the room, my hands shoved deep into my pockets, trying to figure out what to say, what to do. But nothing feels right. Nothing feels like enough.
“Alessia,” I say softly, my voice breaking the silence. She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even turn her head. I swallow hard, stepping closer, the floorboards creaking under my weight. “Red… you need to eat something.”
She blinks slowly like she’s just coming back from someplace far away, her eyes finally shifting to mine. But they’re empty, hollow, like she’s not seeing me.
“I’m not hungry,” she whispers, her voice so quiet it’s almost drowned out by the sound of the rain hitting the window.
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “You have to eat, cara. You’ve barely had anything all day.”
She looks away again, her gaze drifting back to the window. I feel a surge of frustration, of helplessness, bubbling up inside me. I don’t know how to reach her, don’t know how to pull her back from wherever she’s gone. I feel like I’m losing her all over again, and it’s killing me.
I move closer, kneeling down in front of her, trying to catch her eye. “Please, Alessia. Just a few bites. For me?”
Her eyes flicker, just for a moment, and I think I see something there, some small spark of recognition, of life. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that same blank stare.
I let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this. And the guilt, the weight of it, it’s suffocating. I keep seeing her face in my mind, the fear, the pain, when Helen had her at gunpoint. I keep hearing the sound of her voice, the way she said my name like she was afraid she’d never get to say it again.
I failed her. I wasn’t there when she needed me. And now, she’s slipping away from me, and I don’t know how to stop it.
I stand up, running a hand through my hair, trying to think, trying to figure out what to do. I can’t lose her. Not now. Not after everything.
I walk over to the kitchen, grabbing a plate and piling it with whatever I can find. Some bread, a piece of cheese, a few slices of prosciutto. It’s not much, but it’s something. Something to keep her grounded, to keep her here with me.
I bring the plate back to her, setting it down on the small table by the window. “Here,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “Just try a little, okay?”
She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t move. I feel a tightness in my chest, a mix of frustration and desperation. “Alessia, please,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “You need to eat.”
She turns her head slowly, her eyes meeting mine, and again, I see something there. Pain, maybe. Or sadness. Or something else, something I can’t quite name. But then it’s gone like last time, and she’s looking away.
