Prologue
In the suffocating abyss, consumed by despair and anguish, I gathered the remnants of my shattered spirit to confront my tormentor, bracing myself for the impending descent into the depths of my own personal hell. With each strike, I danced with the darkness that hungered to devour me. Even as a young child, I had a deep-seated understanding that freedom could only come from within, by overcoming the depths of hopelessness and discovering a glimmer of light.
My father, Carlo DaRosa, was a feared fighter in the shadowy depths of the underground boxing circuit. He had corrupted me with his twisted knowledge, leaving me tainted with everything I knew. But nights like that night, when he stumbled home in a drunken haze, are nights I yearn for his demise rather than enduring his lessons on self-defense against his torment.
With eyes tightly shut, I braced myself for the storm that was about to unleash, as my father’s wrath mercilessly descended upon my fragile mother. I yearned to shield her from the relentless grip of abuse, yet I found myself trapped in a suffocating abyss of powerlessness and fear.
The agonizing screams reverberated mercilessly within the confines of the house, a haunting testament to the unrelenting chaos that had consumed our existence. As a young girl, I had become intimately acquainted with the cacophony of violence and the suffocating grip of terror that engulfed me whenever my father’s wrath was ignited.
It was as if his viciousness had transformed into a sinister spectre, forever haunting the depths of darkness, biding its time for the opportune instant to unleash its wrath. And my mother, she was its primary target, enduring relentless strikes, both physical and emotional, as she unsuccessfully attempted to shield me from the relentless horrors of our grim existence. But no matter how desperately she fought, she couldn’t shield me entirely from the looming darkness.
My mother’s cries resounded in the night as I watched as he dragged her by her hair outside and into the shadows. He forcefully dragged her into the car, his eyes piercing into mine as he bellowed, “Luca, get in the car. Now!” I was paralyzed by fear, unable to move, and unsure of what to do next as I stood there. He lunged towards me, his fingers digging into my arm with a cruel intensity, leaving behind a haunting mark that whispered of pain and control. My mother gazes upon me, tears cascading down her face, while crimson rivulets escape from her wounded head. There, frozen in horror, there was nothing I could do but sit.
My father started the engine and sped off with us that night, racing in between every car he could. I could hear the sound of sirens growing fainter in the distance. “Carlo, slow down, please!” My mother begged. He smacked her again across the face, stepping on the gas, and his menacing voice echoed through the car. “You think you can leave me? Huh? No! You’re stuck with me forever. Even in death!”
Tears streamed down my mother’s bruised face as she whimpered in pain. I clenched my fists, feeling a mixture of anger and helplessness. The car swerved recklessly, narrowly avoiding collisions as my father continued his rampage. Every passing second felt like an eternity, the terror intensifying with each passing mile. I desperately wanted to reach out and protect my mother, to shield her from the relentless abuse, but fear paralyzed me. The darkness outside matched the darkness that had consumed our lives—a never-ending nightmare that seemed to have no escape.
The next thing I remember is that I’d awoken in the hospital with a dreadful scar across my back—a haunting reminder that my father had attempted to snuff out our lives in a twisted act of malevolence.
As I lay in the sterile hospital room, a flood of memories washed over me, haunting me like a recurring nightmare. The memory of the sound of shattering glass and my mother’s cries resonates in my mind, as vivid as the day it occurred. I spent my time with doctors and nurses who assisted me in recovering my health. When I woke up in the morning, they asked me about the scar on my hip. “I fell while riding my bike.” I told a lie in order to avoid further questioning.
The days that followed were a blur of interviews with police, social workers, and therapists, each probing for answers that I didn’t have. My mother, frail and broken, clung to my hand as we faced a future filled with uncertainty. The scar on my back became a symbol of survival, a constant reminder of the strength we had found within ourselves. Slowly, we began to rebuild our lives, piece by painful piece, determined to never let darkness consume us again.
I consider myself fortunate to have survived, although the events of that day left a lasting impact on me. And for my father…well he received a fifty-year prison sentence for his actions.
Catarina D’Silva was my mom’s best friend growing up. When she heard about everything that happened, she offered to bring me and my mother to Brazil to keep us safe, but my mother kept refusing. But just after I turned nineteen, my mother moved us, finally accepting Catarina’s offer. I didn’t understand why, after Eleven years, we would make such a big move. I had no idea, however, that our past memories and secrets would come along for the ride.
Cruz D’Silva, the devious son of Catarina, would soon intertwine his fate with mine, casting an unforeseen shadow upon my existence. He, with his enigmatic presence, possessed the power to unravel the very fabric of my existence, altering the course of my life in ways that surpassed the boundaries of my wildest dreams.
It didn’t take Cruz long to make his presence, his magnetic charm drawing me towards him like a moth to a flame. Cruz appeared like a beacon of light. His piercing green eyes held a warmth that melted away my fears, drawing me closer to him with each passing day. I had no idea that beneath his charming exterior, a darkness lingered, entwining our destinies in ways I could never have imagined.
As our relationship grew, I started to notice subtle changes in Cruz’s behaviour. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the darkness that resided within him. I was caught in a web of uncertainty, unable to escape the clutches of the unpredictable darkness that now defined our lives in Brazil.
Except I’ve been through hell, and Cruz would become my guiding light out of the darkness, even though he is a dangerous illusion.
