I start to walk off and turn to look at him playfully over my shoulder.
“Maybe I don’t want you to.”
“I
know
you don’t want me to,” he smiles seductively as he sucks my juices off his finger.
I laugh at him stopping to pick up my phone when I see a message alert. I freeze and Marco’s immediately behind me.
“What is it?”
I hand him the phone.
I know you’re with him, you fucking whore! I warned you and you didn’t listen.
Moving his eyes to my face he sees the color has drained from me.
“He’s here, I know he is. I don’t know how or why but he is,” I say quietly as a gurgling of apprehension begins to bubble inside of me. I’m immobile with the familiar feelings of fear seeping through my limbs freezing me to my spot.
Marco shoves the phone back at me.
“Good, let’s get this done with once and for all.” His voice is cold and hard, his jaw clenched and nostrils flaring. “Go take your shower, Elizabeth.” He picks up his phone and calls someone as I leave the room.
Turning into a zombie I go to the bathroom and begin the robotic motions of my bathing rituals, completely out of body. Put the shampoo in my hair, scrub, rinse. Conditioner. Rinse. Put body wash on shower poof, scrub body, rinse. Take facial cleanser, put a little in palm then wash face, rinse. I think I’m in shock.
I dress not really paying any attention to what I’m putting on. Clothes, yes these are clothes and they’re supposed to go on my body. As I stand staring blankly in the mirror I hear a voice that I recognize so I go in that direction. It’s Marco. I stand in front of him but I don’t really see him. I’m in a kind of bubble where I feel detached and removed from everything making it all feel so surreal.
He bends his head down to look me straight in the eyes, putting his hands on my shoulders.
“Everything’s going to be ok, Elizabeth. Now, sit down on the couch and wait for me. I’m going to take a quick shower. Don’t answer the door. AT ALL. Do you understand?” He is calm and in control.
I turn my gaze to look at his face but it’s only a reaction moving towards his voice.
“Yes.”
“Good, now sit, baby,” he says gently as he leads me down to a sitting position.
I just sit there like a mute...waiting.
He leaves me alone and the memories begin to flash through my mind. The hands coming to my face, the feet kicking me, the knife. They are flickers of buried memories bursting to the surface. And with them comes the fear, the desperation, the pain as if it all just happened. I begin to shake so hard my teeth chatter.
I don’t know how much time passes, it could be minutes or hours, when I hear the lock click on the front door and it opens. I don’t turn my head. I don’t have to because I know who it is.
“There’s my
wife
,” Santino’s voice penetrates my fog. “Aren’t you going to come and kiss your
husband
hello? It’s been a long time,
baby
.” The words send shivers down my spine and I cringe at the sickening sarcasm.
I hear his footsteps approaching and I still don’t turn. I can’t, I’m frozen. I can’t speak, I can’t move, I don’t even know if I’m breathing.
“I told you I would come back for you, Elizabeth. And here you are fucking another man, you dirty whore.” His voice is cold, flat and full of hate. It hits me like a blow and I begin to sob.
‘Don’t make him mad, don’t make him mad, don’t make him mad,’ is all I can think over and over again just like before because I know what will follow.
“I’m sorry, Santino,” I choke out. “Why did you come back?”
“Why?!” He laughs hard, straight from the belly. “Because you’re my wife and I love you. Look at me, Elizabeth.”
My eyes travel slowly up his body. He’s in sneakers, jeans, a short sleeved white T and a tan sleeveless vest with a baseball cap. He still has his head bald the way I asked him to keep it. He’s a tall man at 6’ with a slightly larger build showing the lingering muscles he used to keep himself built up with. He has a natural tan complexion and striking features. But what is most apparent about him is his quietly overpowering presence.
“Why are you crying,
baby
?” I hate that sarcastic tone he uses with me.
And I feel rage building inside of me breaking me from my bubble. Anger is an extremely motivating emotion. The fury and resentment from all of the beatings and humiliations, the past few years of terrorism and isolation, it takes over me and I burst.
“Why am I crying? Are you fucking KIDDING ME?!” I scream at him.
He laughs condescendingly at me, “
You’re
angry
at
me?
Are
you
fucking kidding me?
You’re the one who’s been whoring around, I waited for you all this time and you couldn’t keep your fucking legs closed, you slut!”
“Shut up, Santino! You know it’s been over for us a long time. You kept up playing your bullshit games and I didn’t say anything. I paid you back everything you gave up when you came here so I don’t want to hear you crying that same old ‘poor me’ song anymore about the money!”
His hands jerk me up from the couch squeezing my arms tightly.
“I should have cut yours and your piece of shit family’s heads off when I said I would,” he snarls at me his face almost touching mine.
“GET. YOUR. FUCKING. HANDS. OFF. HER. NOW!!!” Marco bellows from the bedroom door.
Santino turns slowly to him with a sadistic smile on his face but doesn’t let me go.
“Prince Charming is here, how nice,” he says sardonically looking at Marco. Marco’s standing in the doorway dripping in his jeans, rage pouring off of him, fists clenched at his sides and his head is bowed as if he’s ready to attack. Santino turns back to me. “Tell me, Elizabeth, did you swallow his spunk, too, like the good little whore that you are?”
“Let me go and get the fuck out of here!!!”
I wriggle free of his iron hold on my arms. He grabs me again and pulls me to him, my back pressed hard against his chest, his arm is around my neck and his face by my ear whispering.
“Do you remember that knife you took me to buy? I could put it in your back and pull out your guts before you even knew it was in you,
baby
. Then I’ll do it to your boyfriend. Is that what you want?” The whisper is so quiet only I can hear him.
My breath catches, my eyes go wide and my mouth opens making no sound.
Marco moves towards us.
“STOP MARCO, DON’T!” I shout.
He stops, his eyes widening knowing something is very wrong.
“You are going to jail for a very long time, Santino,” Marco hisses at him.
“I don’t think so, my friend.” Santino’s cockiness is sickening.
“The computer hacking, breaking and entering, endangerment, the list is endless, Santino. Let her go and leave peacefully and end this here.” Marco puts his hands out palms down as he’s trying to reason with him. There is a look of fear mixed with rage in his eyes as if he knows Santino has something at my back and he’s very afraid for me.
Santino’s arm begins to tighten around my neck. My hands go up to his forearms grabbing at them trying to loosen the vicelike grip on my throat.
“I am not breaking and entering. She is my wife and I lived here. And I let myself in with my keys,” he says with sick satisfaction. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about with the computer allegations.”
His arm is getting tighter and more constraining around me. I dig my fingernails into him now, trying to claw him off. I turn my head to keep him from crushing my windpipe. Panic is rising in me and my vision gets blurry. No sound is coming from my mouth as I feel like I’m choking.
“ELIZABETH!!” I hear Marco’s voice from far away as if in a dream and it’s the last thing I hear. I feel calm relief spreading thickly through me. ‘It’s finally over and I’m free,’ I think as peace comes over me before everything goes black.
‘Why are there people yelling? Did something break, I heard a crash? Ow, my throat hurts.’ All of these thoughts are swimming in my head as I slowly wake up feeling somehow dizzy and confused. When I open my eyes Marco is cradling me in his lap. He’s got blood dripping from his lip and his cheek is red and swelling. My hand reaches up to wipe it gently away. I realize I’m lying on the floor of the living room with him sitting here holding me. I turn to look around and see there are two huge men holding Santino down. And Mr. Jones is standing in my kicked in door, eyes wide.
“Sshhh, baby, be still, everything’s ok now.” Marcos voice is gentle and soothing.
“Why are they holding Santino?” Mr. Jones yells.
And then it dawns on me.
“You! You’ve been calling him! Why would you do that?” I scream hysterically at him, ignoring the pain from my throat.
Mr. Jones has a completely confused expression on his face. “He asked me to keep an eye on you and let him know if anything unusual was happening.”
“Do you have any idea of what
he’s
done?! DO YOU?!!” I am yelling at him at the top of my lungs.
Two police officers come running in and quickly assess the scene pulling their guns. One comes over to us cautiously.
“Are you ok? Have you been hurt?”
What a fucking idiot. You can look at us and see we’ve been hurt. But I look at Santino and my heart breaks. Even after everything he’s done I can’t inflict anymore pain on him. I loved him with a passion that you only read about, one that you hope you’re lucky to have once in a lifetime. I still love him, love like that never dies. And I believe deep in my heart that he loved me too. But we were not meant to be together in this lifetime, not with the demons that he carries within that torment him. I believe in reincarnation, maybe in the next lifetime we will come together again and finish what we started.
I rasp out, “I don’t want to press charges.” I know Santino sees that I don’t hate him, I never could. I just want him to be happy and find peace.
The officer looks at me in total shock.
“Are you sure, Ma’am? It’s very obvious something has happened here. If someone has hit you we have to arrest him.”
No one has hit me. This time.
I look up into Marco’s face, there’s anger, then understanding. He can’t blame me for my decision because he knows I can’t hurt Santino like that, even if it might be the right thing to do.
“I’m sure. I just want this to be over and to have peace.” I turn to look into Santino’s eyes. He’s looking back at me with disbelief, longing, and gratitude. “No more,” I tell him quietly but firmly.
Santino nods in understanding and I see a flash of regret and pain in his eyes. And all I can think of is, ‘How can he think we will ever be together, especially after this?’ The two giants look to Marco and he nods. I see the bruises and red welts getting darker on Santino’s face. They let him up and Santino walks slowly to us, looking me deep in my eyes. I wonder for a moment if its bullshit or true sadness there.
“I won’t bother you again, Elizabeth. Just know that I love you and I can’t believe you betrayed me.”
He walks towards the door as the two good-looking giants step aside and he leaves without looking back. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again, that lingering love inside me hopes I do, that part that ignored the knowledge our story was a tragedy right from the beginning. A love that fierce and intense was forbidden and was always doomed. I’m filled with a deep sadness. A sadness for a love broken, for two hearts breaking, for pain that will never be forgotten. Marco pulls me into his arms as the sobs rack my body.
“Ssshhh, baby, it’s over, you don’t have to worry
anymore.” He turns to the men in the room. “I’ll be right back,” and he leads me to the bedroom.
“Lay down, Elizabeth,” he says softly. He gently takes my clothes off and pulls the blankets over me as all of the emotions pour out of my body through my tears and sobs. He lies down next to me holding me tight, rocking my body soothingly cooing in my ear. When it finally subsides he kisses me gently on the cheek.
“I’ll be right back, baby. I’m going to get a cool towel for your eyes.” He goes to the bathroom and comes back with a cool wet washcloth and more tissues.
“Close your eyes, love,” placing it softly over them. It feels so good on my hot face.
“I’m going to go into the other room and straighten things out. I’ll be right back, you stay here and rest.” His tone is gentle but firm.
I take a deep breath and feel my muscles begin to unclench.
“Who are those two guys, Marco?” My words catch from my still gasping breath from sobbing.
“MMA fighters from the gym I work out at. Friends of mine,” he answers while stroking my hair. Like having two beautiful MMA fighters bust in your door is normal. “I called them when you went to take a shower.”
“Oh.”
“Try to rest, baby. You need it.”