Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
She squeezes her eyes shut. I put my hand on Calvino’s arm to keep from him pressing her harder because I can tell this is extremely painful for her.
Eventually, she continues: “It started out as just a conversation, something to speculate about, but he kept talking about it until one day suddenly it was happening and I felt totally swept away. I need you both to understand that I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to do it at all, because the thought of it was so repulsive and horrifying and it was just, it was just wrong. But I was raised to obey and to follow the family’s wishes, and I didn’t think there was another way out for me, so I went along with what my husband needed. I did it for my family.”
Tears roll fast down her cheeks and she hugs herself tightly. I shift closer to her, my body tingling with anticipation, and I try to imagine what she could’ve possibly done that still has such an effect on her even today, over a year later. She’s shaking, trembling, and her words come out in a rush like she can’t stand to taste them for too long.
“He came to my room and lit candles. He laughed and said it would set the mood. He lit candles every single time it happened, and I asked him not to once but he only shook his head and said it helped him perform. And what did it matter anyway? I kept my eyes closed the whole time and he did what he had to do, and afterward I felt like I’d been ripped to pieces, like I’d been treated like a dog sent out for breeding, like I was nothing but an animal to those bastards, a convenient hole for them to fuck.” She snarls the words, her face red.
“Who went into your room, Charlie?” I ask, squeezing Calvino’s hand. “Who did Vince get to sleep with you?”
She laughs once, sharp and horrible, and I can hear the bleak sadness in that sound, like there are no depths, no bottom to her sorrow.
“Louie. Vince’s little trigger man.”
I sit back like she punched me in the face and Calvino recoils in pure horror.
Charlie stands there and sobs. She wraps her arms around herself and cries so hard her body twists in half, and it takes all my willpower to get up, take a step, another step, until I’m hugging her.
“Louie said he didn’t mind if I cried,” she says, sobbing the words. “He said he didn’t care if I cried while he fucked me. He kept coming, night after night, until he got me pregnant, and Vince let him do it. Vince begged me not to tell anyone until I was with child, and he promised nobody would know, since Emilio would look like someone from the family. I mean, Louie’s got that Italian look, right? I did it and I hate myself every day, I feel so sick and used and disgusting, so horrible and dirty, and I hate Vince for it. I hate him so much I want him to die for what he did to me.” She looks up with a shocking rage.
Calvino stands and his legs are shaking. “Vince let a murdering psychopath…” He shakes his head and stumbles away. He steadies himself on the kitchen counter and stares into the sink with a blank, faraway gaze. “That’s why you two fought all the time, isn’t it? He made you sleep with a killer.”
Charlie nods and sobs once. “I’m so mad at him. I can’t… I can’t just move on. He wants me to forget what I went through with Louie, but I can’t do it. How can I do it when I still feel the bastard on top of me, sweating and grunting like a dying pig?”
I hug her so tight I’m afraid I’ll hurt her but she only sobs into my chest. Emilio crawls over and pats his mother’s foot, but he clearly doesn’t understand what’s happening. Charlie bends down and scoops him up and holds him against her body.
“This is my son,” she whispers into his thin curly hair. “This is my boy and I don’t care who his father was, he’s mine and I love him. Do you understand?”
“I know you do, Charlie,” I say and it’s like my head’s a balloon floating into the sky. The implications of what she just told us are too heavy and I’m disassociating myself from his moment in an attempt to stay sane.
I want to ask more, but a car door slams outside, followed by two more. I look out the window through the blinds and nearly choke as several men in dark jackets spread out on the sidewalk. I look back in panic.