“No...Dad, I—” My voice broke.I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes catching on the body sprawled across the floor.“He’s not dead...Dad, he’s strong.Stronger than anything.You’re just— you’re ly-lying.I—I don’t believe you.”
The words barely left my mouth before another slap cracked across my face.The same cheek.The same sting.I didn’t even feel pain anymore — just the numb, hollow burn that came after too many hits.I could tell he’d left a mark; my skin throbbed with it.I stared at him through a blur of tears, searching for anything — guilt, mercy, love — but there was nothing there.Just that dead, icy look I used to mistake for discipline.
“If the motherfucker’s so strong,” he snarled, “then why’s he over there, lying in his own pool of blood, huh?Tell me that, you foolish little girl!”
He grabbed me by the shoulders — hard — spinning me around like a rag doll until I was facing it.The body.“Look at him!”he roared.“Look at this dead thing!Look at this fucking bàstard!”
His voice thundered through my skull, and I wanted to disappear.I couldn’t look — I wouldn’t.Every instinct screamed not to.
I whimpered, shrinking back, but he shoved me forward again, forcing me closer.“I fucking warned you, Ariana!I told you this would happen if you didn’t stop with your damn games!”His breath came out sharp, venomous.“Never underestimate me, because look — look at what I’ve done!He put himself here, in this position, for daring to touch what’s mine!”He shouted again, rage bleeding into every word.“Look, Ariana!”
His fingers clawed at my jaw, nails digging in as he forced my face toward the floor.My eyelids clenched shut so tight they hurt.I couldn’t do it — couldn’t see him like that.Not Alessandro.
When I still wouldn’t look, my father shoved me forward — so hard I stumbled — and fell right onto the body.My palms hit something slick and warm.
I screamed.
The smell hit me first — blood, copper, and sweat.I scrambled back, hands shaking, but it was too late.My eyes caught the glint of silver around the wrist — his wrist.The watch I’d given him.The one he swore he’d never take off.
My chest caved in.
“No...”The word broke out of me like glass.My head spun; the world tilted sideways.I crawled to him on instinct, trembling, barely breathing.I rolled him onto his back, my fingers slipping on his blood.
It was him.
“D—Alessandro,” I whispered, the sound of his name cracking in my throat.“Wake up.It’s me.Wake up, baby...”
My hands cupped his face — cold, so cold — his skin pale, his lips dry and turning blue.I smoothed his cheek with shaking fingers, hoping he’d flinch, twitch, breathe.
He didn’t.
I shook him harder.“Alessandro!Come on, baby, you hear me?Wake the fuck up!”My voice fell apart, rasping, desperate.
I looked down — at the dark wound gaping in his stomach, blood still slick and hot against my thighs.Every second, more color drained from his face.He looked like marble, like something carved and left behind.
“Alessandro...”My voice cracked again.My chin trembled.I pressed my forehead against his, the world fading to a ringing silence.His blood stained my skin, seeped into my clothes, and the warmth of it made me realize just how cold he was.
There was so much of it — too much — and I couldn’t comprehend it anymore.My thoughts spun out, scattered like glass shards on the floor.I held him tighter, rocking him against me, as if that could pull him back.
And then, it hit me — the truth, blunt and merciless.
He wasn’t here anymore.
He was gone.
He was never coming back.
