Page 73 of Veil of the Past
Alessia looks up from her plate, her expression guarded. “About therapy?” she asks.
I nod, leaning back in my chair. “Yeah. About therapy. For us. For you.”
She hesitates, her gaze flickering away from mine. “I’ve thought about it,” she admits. “But… I’m still not sure.”
I nod, trying not to let my disappointment show. “That’s okay,” I say. “Take your time. I just want what’s best for you. For us.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, and I can see the wheels turning in her mind, the way she’s weighing her options, trying to make sense of what I’m asking. Finally, she looks up at me, her expression serious. “I’ll do it,” she says softly.
I feel a rush of relief, of gratitude, flooding through me. “You will?” I ask, trying to keep the hope out of my voice.
She nods, her gaze steady. “I will. For you. For us.”
38
ALESSIA
The room is quiet, too quiet. The kind of quiet that feels like it’s pressing in from all sides, like a heavy blanket I can’t shake off. I sit on a soft, beige couch, the fabric rough against my palms, trying to focus on the small details—the muted colors of the room, the soft ticking of a clock somewhere behind me, the faint scent of lavender in the air. Anything to keep my mind from wandering too far, too deep. But my house feels foreign, I haven’t been back here since that day, but I know Romiro is right out that door. No one knows the full extent of what happened to me…the way I was forced.
Katherine sits across from me, her face calm, her eyes attentive. She’s got this air about her, this calm, patient energy that makes me feel like I’m under a microscope, like she can see right through me. It’s unnerving, and I can feel my shoulders tense, my fingers digging into the fabric of the couch. I don’t know why I’m here, why I agreed to this. I don’t want to talk, don’t want to open up, but Romiro thought it would help, and I… I don’t know what else to do.
“So,” Katherine says softly, her voice breaking the silence like a gentle breeze. “How are you feeling today, Alessia?”
How am I feeling? I don’t even know how to answer that. I stare at the floor, tracing the lines in the hardwood with my eyes, trying to find the words, but they’re stuck somewhere in my throat, heavy and tangled. “I… I don’t know,” I finally mumble, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I guess… tired?”
Katherine nods, like she’s heard this a thousand times before, like she understands. “That’s okay,” she says. “It’s normal to feel tired after everything you’ve been through. Your mind and body are trying to process a lot.”
I nod, but I don’t look up. My fingers tighten around the edge of the couch, my knuckles turning white. I don’t want to talk about it, to go back there, to those moments, but I know that’s why I’m here. I know I have to.
“You’ve been through a lot of trauma, Alessia,” Katherine continues, her voice soft but steady. “And it’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling. There’s no right or wrong way to process what happened. But sometimes, talking about it can help.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight. I feel a lump rising, my chest tightening. I don’t know where to start, I don’t know how to put everything into words. How do you even begin to explain what it feels like to lose someone you love so violently, so suddenly? How do you talk about the fear, the pain, the emptiness? How do you even talk about the absolute terror that courses through your body after waking up and finding out you’ve been taken away from the one place you felt safe?
I take a deep breath, my hands shaking slightly. “It’s… it’s not just the kidnapping,” I say, my voice trembling. “It’s… it’s Nonna. Losing her… I can’t get it out of my head. I keep seeing her face… the way she looked, so still, so… gone.”
Katherine nods again, her expression softening. “Tell me about her,” she says gently. “Tell me about your Nonna.”
My chest tightens, a sharp pain cutting through me like a knife. I don’t know if I can do this. But I force myself to speak, to say the words out loud. “She was… she was everything,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “She was strong, and stubborn, and she loved us so fiercely. She was always there, always… always making sure we were okay. She was the heart of our family, you know?”
Katherine listens, her eyes never leaving mine, her expression open, encouraging. “She sounds like a wonderful woman,” she says softly.
“She was,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. “She was always there. Always… fighting for us. She taught me how to be strong, how to stand up for myself, how to love with everything I have… and now she’s just… gone.”
I feel a tear slip down my cheek, and I brush it away quickly, like I’m ashamed of it, like I shouldn’t be crying in front of this stranger. “I don’t know how to do this without her,” I confess, my voice raw. “I don’t know how to be… strong.”
Katherine leans forward slightly, her voice gentle. “It’s okay to feel that way, Alessia. It’s okay to feel lost, to feel like you don’t know how to move forward. Grief is… it’s a process, a journey, and it takes time.”
I nod, but the words feel hollow. I’ve heard them all before—grief takes time, it’s a process,blah, blah, blah. None of it changes the fact that she’s gone, that I’ll never see her again, never hear her laugh or feel her arms around me.
“It’s not just that she’s gone,” I say suddenly, surprising myself with the force of my own words. “It’s how she… how she died. It wasn’t… it wasn’t supposed to be like this. She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t…”
My voice cracks, and I feel another tear slide down my cheek. Katherine’s expression doesn’t change, but I see something in her eyes, something that looks like understanding. “You’re angry,” she says softly. “And that’s okay. It’s okay to be angry, Alessia. It’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling.”
I nod, but the anger is there, burning in my chest, hot and sharp. “I am angry,” I admit, my voice shaking. “I’m angry at… at everything. At whoever did this. At myself… because I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I couldn’t save her.”
Katherine’s voice is calm, steady. “What happened to your Nonna… it wasn’t your fault, Alessia. There was nothing you could have done.”
I shake my head, my hands clenched in my lap. “But I should have done something,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I should have been able to… to protect her. To protect all of us.”
