Salvatore abruptly moved my things to his room, stating that we were going to share a room now.
He didn't demand; demanding indicates there would be opposition.
No, he stated it as a fact.
Actually, I wanted to shove his 9mm up his-
My feet get restless. I've been here entirely too long.
Three months have passed. Three months in one place. Three months as a sitting duck.
Mentally I twitch and fidget. I pace and wail to the heavens.
Physically, I take care of Apollo during the day and Salvatore at night.
Mentally, I'm breaking down.
Mentally, I'm imploding.
Mentally I'm tearing apart at the seams.
My husband kisses the space between my breasts where his head lays.
For all that he knew, I'm safe at home. But in truth, I go through hell whenever I am left alone.
"You okay, baby girl?"
I am not honest.
I am not healthy.
But I say:
"I'm okay, Salvatore."
The way his breathing hitched, I knew he knew. He was aware of my lie.
But he just kisses my forehead and goes back to sleep.
I've stolen the dejected spirit of the voice in my head, filling the large hole in my own soul with it. It consumed what hope I had left, what fight I had left.
It left me for dead, but I can't complain knowing I dug the hole.
I don't know who I am. Most of my life is composed of pieces of a puzzle that don't fit.
I'm a story with no beginning, a patchy middle, and an uncertain end.
It kills me, more than he wanted to. More I wanted to.
I needed relief.
I need relief.
This incessant nagging in my head, this tugging in my heart, this yearning for all-consuming darkness was too much.
I don't mean to be selfish, but I can't.
I just can't.
The next day started just as the day before and ended completely different.
Salvatore went to work, Apollo learned Math.
Then, about twelve noon, I noticed a change of wind.
I told Apollo to go play, that I didn't feel well. I went to the bedroom I shared with Salvatore and I sat.
Closed all the curtains and sat.
Like a wave, the memories crashed over me tempestuously, and like a tiny lifeboat, I didn't have a fighting chance.
"Shhh... quiet. Hush, Delphine."
I whimper. "But it hurts."
He smiles softly at me, but this not right. I'm a smart girl, and I may not know a lot, but I know this is not right.
"I don't wanna-" A burning stops my protests.
I fall, a miserable heap on the ground, and he does what he was going to do anyway.
"Where is she?!" I scream, "Where is my sister?!"
The man smirks, his yellow teeth glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights of my prison.
"Gone girlie. Gone."
The tortured screams of the women next door to me delay my response.
"Gone where? Where is my nephew?!"
His smirk drops and slaps me harshly, spitting on me in contempt.
"Do not question me, puttana." Just like that, his hostile demeanor disappears, as if lightning had struck out of the clear blue sky, but the sun was shining again.
"You know what that means," he songs with cruel glee.
Behind him, heavy footsteps echo, until a dark pair of familiar boots appears in my vision.
"Daddy's home," he chuckled darkly.
And although I do not give him the satisfaction of seeing me quiver, my insides shift at the sound of his voice.
"I will rip every part of you until you can't find enough fight to breathe without my permission," he snarls maliciously.
"N-Never," I can't breathe, his fingers clenching my throat, but I deny him the power of leaving me speechless.
"Consider this part one of an experiment then. Boys," he calls, that vile smirk ever present.
"Go have some fun."
I don't even scream as the first two tear through me.
I stare at their wicked eyes lifelessly and hope they know they cannot hurt me any more than physically.
I will not let them.
I shiver in the dark cold night, though the heavy body on top of me is disgustingly warm.
I smile. No reason to. I smile.
"I just want to die," I whisper into the air, a smile still on my face.
"He can win, if I can die," I vow shakily.
But death never came. Death is unfair. It snatches the loved from their loved ones and preserve the tortured for their tormentors.
I will find a way to die. I will.
I don't even know how, but I found myself smiling, blood seeping from wounds I didn't care to find, coloring the water a beautiful shade of pink.
I'm just glad that the locked the door. I wouldn't ever want Apollo to find me like this.
My lungs violently attempt to force me to preserve air, but I don't. I heard drowning is peaceful.
And it is. Once you break even, your body decides that breathing water is better than breathing nothing at all.
Eventually, it will accept death; your body, and you drift away to sleep.
I inhale, exhale and breath in the stinging scent of a watery death, a smile of contentment on my face.
I did it.
Peace at long last.