Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
I escape from her room without another word. There’s a dark, narrow staircase a few feet away, and I take it, hoping to avoid the brothers. Sure enough, it brings me out at the other end of the upstairs hallway from the main staircase, and I slip into my room and lock the door.
Falling on my bed, I let the tears come. After a while, I pull off my clothes and crawl under the covers, searching for the oblivion of sleep.
It doesn’t come.
Dreams chase me, dark, formless terrors that wake me again and again with a cry in my throat, unable to remember any details. I lie awake until exhaustion drags me under, and the pattern repeats.
Just as dawn creeps through my window, I finally drift into a dreamless sleep. When I wake again, I can tell it’s late in the morning. Pulling on some clothes, I go into the bathroom, splash water on my face, and look in the mirror at my drawn expression and the dark rings under my eyes.
I have my pride, foolish though it might be, so I get my makeup bag and pat on some concealer. I haven’t worn much makeup during the trip, but now it feels like a metaphor for my life: everything honest and true hidden away under a polite facade.
Downstairs, I find all three men waiting for me. They take one look at me and rush to pull out a chair at the table. “What is it, Dani?” Fiero asks. “Do you feel ill?”
“I’m fine.” The lie, necessary as it is, comes easily. “I just didn’t sleep well.”
They exchange glances, but don’t ask any more questions. “We thought we might visit the ruins of Pompeii today,” Matteo says. “It’s only a short drive, so we can easily return if you don’t feel up to it.”
I muster a smile. “That sounds good.” Anything to get me away from this house, where I’m surrounded by guilt and shame.
Signora Bestia is watching me with too-perceptive eyes. I give her a smile as well, but I’m sure it’s not even a little bit convincing. I drink the latte Giovanni prepares for me, grab a roll with some butter and jam, and make my escape once again.
As soon as we’re in the car, Matteo asks what’s wrong. All I can do is shake my head. I’ve been trying to work up the courage to do what I must – tell them that I can’t be with them anymore, not even in the US – but I can’t find the strength.
My heart will carry the scars forever, and the more time I spend with them, the deeper the scars will be.
When all three of the men continue to look concerned, I tell them that I’m tired, which is true. I’ll talk with them soon about what’s really bothering me. I have to. Somehow.
When I was younger, I read about Pompeii, the ancient city that was buried when Mt. Vesuvius erupted nearly two thousand years ago. It’s always fascinated me, and I may never have the opportunity to see the site again, so I force myself to focus on my surroundings.
The area of the city’s excavated ruins is much larger than I was anticipating. The four of us walk and walk, and it still seems like there’s so much more to see. There are temples, villas, houses of all sizes, bathhouses and bakeries.
It’s fascinating, but it’s all so sad.
Maybe my personal problems are coloring my view of the archeological site, but the more we explore, the more emotional I become.
When we reach the Garden of the Fugitives, which displays plaster casts of citizens who died during the eruption, I can no longer hold it together. People have been immortalized in the positions they were in when they died – a woman embracing her child, some trying, too late, to flee, others trying to shelter themselves from the falling ash.
Their lives were cut short in an instant.
In my current mood, grieving the imminent loss of the Bestia brothers, the sight of this tragedy is too much for me. I make my way out of the small crowd and hurry toward privacy behind an ancient stone wall.
The Missing Piece
The men follow me, and as soon as I turn the corner, they wrap their arms around me in silent comfort. It’s both beautiful and a cruel torture to feel how much they care for me.
I allow myself to cry for a few minutes before I get myself together and pull away from them. There’s no point in prolonging the pain.
“We can’t be together. I can’t be with you anymore.”
A range of emotions flash across their features, too fast for me to read. Matteo is the first to speak. “What are you talking about, Dani? What’s wrong?”
“We can’t do this. It has to end.”