Page 72 of Veil of the Past
I don’t wait for any of them to say anything, “The Outfit was behind this shit show. Helen was fed something that made her lose her senses, which made her confess.”
Eli leans back. “Why the fuck is anyone feeding that junkie drugs? I need her to stay alive. She’s not getting out of this so easily.”
* * *
Two weeks have passed,and it's like walking through a fog that doesn’t want to lift. Every day feels like a battle, though small victories have been won. Like the way she’ll smile a little brighter or laugh a little longer—it’s a step in the right direction, but it’s still a fight. She’s still distant, still guarded. And I feel like I’m always on edge, waiting for something to break.
I’m sitting on the couch, and Alessia’s curled up beside me with her head on my shoulder. She’s awake, but her eyes are closed, her breaths are slow and steady. It’s the most peaceful I’ve seen her in days, and I don’t want to disrupt that. But I know I have to bring it up. I have to at least try.
I run my fingers through her hair, the strands slipping through like water. Her hair has always been like fire to me—wild, untamed. Now, though, it’s dulled, like she’s lost some of that spark that drew me to her in the first place. But I’m not giving up. Not on her, not on us.
“Alessia,” I start softly, my voice barely louder than a whisper. She tenses slightly against me, and I curse myself for breaking the silence, but I can’t let this go any longer. “I’ve been thinking.”
She doesn’t answer, doesn’t even open her eyes, but I know she’s listening. She always listens.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “About… maybe us seeing someone. A professional, I mean. Together. To talk things out.”
Her eyelids flutter open, and she looks at me, confusion clouding her eyes. There’s hesitation there, the instinct to pull back, to retreat into that shell she’s been living in for weeks. But she doesn’t pull away. She stays. And that gives me hope.
“I don’t know if it will help,” I continue, careful to keep my tone gentle and non-threatening. “But I think it’s worth a try. For both of us. And I was thinking… maybe you could go with Valentina and Mara, too? As a group. I think it could be good for all of you.”
She frowns, shifting slightly, her head still resting on my shoulder but her body going tense. “Therapy?” she repeats, her voice flat, like she’s trying the word out on her tongue and doesn’t like the taste of it.
I nod, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. “Yeah. Therapy. With Dr. Katherine. She’s good. She knows how to handle… situations like ours.”
Alessia’s silent for a long moment, and my heart hammers in my chest, the anxiety clawing at my insides. I don’t want her to say no. I don’t want her to push me away again. But I also know I can’t force this on her. It has to be her choice.
She finally speaks, her voice soft, uncertain. “Why… why do you think we need therapy?”
I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “Because,” I say slowly, “we’ve been through a lot, Red. You and me, together. And there’s a lot we haven’t talked about, a lot we’ve buried deep down. I think… I think it’s time we start facing it. Together.”
She sits up, pulling away from me, and I feel a sharp pang of loss at the absence of her warmth. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” she admits, her voice barely more than a whisper.
I nod, trying to keep my expression calm, and understanding. “I get that,” I say. “But you don’t have to be ready all at once. We can take it slow. One step at a time. Just… think about it, okay?”
She nods slowly, her gaze distant, and I can tell she’s still processing, still trying to make sense of what I’m asking. I want to reach out, to hold her, to tell her everything will be okay. But I know she needs space, needs time to come to terms with this on her own.
I watch her, my heart aching, the silence stretching between us. “And the group therapy,” I add, trying to keep my tone light, and casual. “It’s just an idea. I know you’ve been through a lot with Mara and Valentina… I think it could help all of you to have someone to talk to. Together.”
Alessia’s eyes flicker with something—fear, maybe, or uncertainty. “I don’t know,” she says again, her voice wavering. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
I nod, leaning back against the couch, trying to hide my disappointment. “That’s okay,” I say. “You don’t have to decide right now. Just… think about it. For me?”
She nods again, her gaze still distant, and I can feel the tension between us, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. I want to break through that barrier, to pull her back to me, but I don’t know how. I don’t know what to say to make her understand.
We sit in silence for a while, the weight of the conversation pressing down on us. Finally, Alessia sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I’ll think about it,” she says quietly, and I feel a small spark of hope, a flicker of light in the darkness.
“Thank you,” I whisper, reaching out to take her hand. She hesitates for a moment before letting me, her fingers cold against mine. I squeeze her hand gently, trying to convey everything I can’t put into words. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”
She nods, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment, and I see something there—a glimmer of trust, of understanding. It’s not much, but it’s enough. It’s a start.
* * *
The days pass slowlyafter that, each one blending into the next. Alessia is still distant, still quiet, but there are moments when she seems to come back to me, when she smiles and laughs, and I see glimpses of the woman I fell in love with. It’s enough to keep me going, to keep fighting.
But I can’t shake the feeling that we’re standing on the edge of a precipice, one wrong step away from falling into the abyss. And I know we can’t keep going like this forever. Something has to change.
One evening, after dinner, I bring it up again. “Have you thought any more about what we talked about?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual, and nonchalant.
