Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I had been awake for hours. I couldn’t fall back asleep. Without Nestore in the same room with me, I hardly slept at all. Nestore was gone on another mission with Remo, Nino, and Niccolo—purging San Diego of the remaining rats, as they called it—when I decided to risk running.
The walls seemed to whisper Father’s cruel words. Worthless bitch. You’ll die down here. Nobody will remember you.
I felt like I would never be happy again, like the will to even try was slowly trickling out of me with every moment that I spent in this house.
Nestore wouldn’t leave. He felt at home in the darkness. He seemed to think it was making him stronger, but it was sucking the energy out of me.
I closed my eyes tightly, and a few tears squeezed out. I wished I could say goodbye, but Nestore wasn’t someone who would ever accept my goodbye. He’d force me to stay, but I couldn’t, not even another day. I felt like I was about to combust.
My chest had been tight for days, making every breath laborious, and sometimes I couldn’t breathe at all. I needed to leave.
I opened my eyes. I had made my decision a couple of days ago, but I had wanted to stay to celebrate Nestore’s eighteenth birthday in two days. Now I realized it wouldn’t make things easier for him, and it would make things impossibly harder for me.
I slipped out of bed, already dressed in comfortable jeans and a T-shirt. The staff bought me a couple of clothes last week because Nestore didn’t want me to leave the house yet. It was still my prison.
I had considered calling Flavia to let her know I was coming, but then I worried that our calls might be monitored.
I needed to get away from the bloodshed, the screams, and the memories of pain and misery. Nestore wanted to stay to prove a point. My Nestore was on a path I couldn’t follow. The few guards who had stayed to protect me were playing cards in the kitchen. It was their nightly ritual and usually involved the consumption of quite a bit of wine.
I knew the security system from living here, and Nestore had given me all the codes I needed. Nestore trusted me to stay, and I felt guilty for not being able to. But I needed to leave. As long as Nestore was still so caught up with revenge, I couldn’t stay here. Maybe in a few months, when he’d calmed down, I could return to him. But not to this place, never to this place. It wasn’t a home, only a graveyard and a prison.
I didn’t pack anything except for two dresses, some underwear, and a couple of hundred dollars. I didn’t own anything, and even if I did, I wanted to leave the past behind. I didn’t want to be reminded of what I’d left behind and the things that were irrevocably lost. With a heavy heart, I snuck off the premises. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I turned my back on the massive gates. Like the walls, the gates were covered in rambling roses. It was such a beautiful sight, which made the horrors behind those gates even worse. Without looking back, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. Down and down, I put more distance between myself and the house that had been my prison for too long.
I could barely breathe because of my crying, but at the same time, the vise around my chest seemed to loosen the farther away from the mansion I got. People were giving me a wide berth as if I were contagious. When would Nestore return to the manor? And how would he react when he realized I was gone? I cried even harder because of my betrayal. I wished I were strong enough to brave the darkness that Nestore harbored, but after everything I had seen, I simply needed to leave. There was so much despair and darkness inside me. Too much, and this place made me feel like there was no light at all.
I didn’t stop crying until I sat inside the Greyhound bus that would take me up to Santa Barbara. I pressed my cheek against the glass and wiped the back of my hand over my eyes, sucking in a deep breath. The engine of the bus sprang to life, and for a moment, I considered exiting, but I couldn’t move. My heart begged me to return to the mansion, but my mind and body refused to listen.
I arrived at Flavia’s apartment in Santa Barbara that evening. I hadn’t given her a heads-up, so her expression of shock when she opened the door was expected.
“I hope I didn’t wake Luciano,” I said with a shaky smile, feeling tears rise into my eyes.