Page 48 of Veil of Vengeance

“No, Mama, you are strong. Never think that just because you couldn’t leave or protect us, that it’s your fault. None of it is your fault.” I grab her palms, trying to emphasize my point.

“How adorable, a Mom and daughter reunion.”

My eyes fall shut at the grating voice of Nonna from behind me. I breathe in deeply before opening my eyes and turning around to face her. Her salt and pepper hair is twisted into her classic bun, and she is wearing a knee-length burgundy dress. Sporting her permanent scowl, her brows furrows.

“Hi, Nonna.” I give her a tight-lipped smile, which she scoffs at and mutters something in Italian before hitting her cane on the hardwood floors twice.

“You came out exactly like your Mom, a pathetic good-for-nothing wench, you have ruined yourself and the family name in the process.” She continues after I give her a puzzled look. “You thought the Folonari bastard wouldn’t tell us, mock us for stealing a kiss, and in doing so, stealing your virtue.”

My throat becomes so dry that my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Chest heaving for breaths, I sway, but Mom’s hands steady me from behind. My stomach dips and the bile rises, burning my esophagus in the process. God, I think I’m going to be sick.

Nonna points her wrinkly finger at Mom and I as she says, “For that, your Mom will pay the price, since she didn’t know how to raise her daughters to be honorable Italian girls. Angelo and Giovanni, take Diletta.” The two soldiers come from behind Nonna and head in Mom and I’s direction. I step in their way to stop them, but Nonna steps closer and slaps me, causing me to fall to the ground.

Mom struggles in the soldier’s grasp, but she is ultimately dragged away. When I try to get up and follow Mom, Nonna blocks me.

Stomping her cane close to where my hand is, a clear threat. My eyes sting, and I hate myself for how weak I feel. Nonna bends down, her eyes harsh and cold. Almost dead more than alive, and with the little life in them, it’s full of hate and cruelty. She grabs the lower half of my face and squeezes, causing pain to shoot through my jaw, but I keep a straight face as she sneers.

“I knew your Mom was a no-good rat when your nonno had introduced her as your Dad’s future wife. I tried to warn him, but a woman in our world is nothing more than a glorified ‘cum dump,’ as you young people say.”

I physically recoil at the words she uses, but she keeps her hand firm on my face. She seems unfazed by my absolute disgust as she continues. “I knew your Mom was a whore the day I met her. After all, the Gallo women were known for falling for lower-ranking men. Your youngest aunt ran away with a mere soldier, yet we still accepted your Mom into our family and agreed to marry her to our son. But a defective family such as hers should have never been considered.” My nose wrinkles at the way she degrades all my Mom’s side of the family, and her eyes narrow before throwing me back and standing up.

“You’d do well to remember yourself, Valentina. You are nothing more than an asset to further your family, your Dad, and the Outfit.”

The room shifts into a dingy basement and the sound of something dripping onto the floor echoes. I frantically turn around, trying to see where Nonna has gone. My body becomes taut with terror as I see Mom’s, Violette’s, Monica’s, and Marcello’s bodies hanging limply from the ceiling by their arms, their eyes torn out and their mouths agape.

“Valentina, why?” Their moans echo around the basement.

My eyes fly open as my chest constricts, my knuckles turning white as I have the chair’s armrests in a death grip. A fine sheen of sweat covers my body. Even as my hands grip the armrests, they shake with the effort of not collapsing back into the chair.

Stomach churning, I stumble before getting to my feet to make it to the bathroom door. The door hits the wall with the effort of me opening it. I struggle to lift the toilet bowl lid before I vomit.

The acid burns my throat, and the smell etches itself into my nose. My body trembles with sobs as I continue to throw up until my stomach is empty. I lean back as I dry heave, small pieces of my hair sticking to my face.

I slowly make my way onto my feet and head to the sink. I lift my shaking arms to rest them on the counter, but looking in the mirror makes me grimace. My cheeks are flushed, my hair resembles someone who’s gotten struck by lightning, and my shoulders are shaking even as my hands grip the sink.

Goosebumps litter my arms as the cold sweat dries. I manage to drag myself toward the shower and sluggishly turn the knobs till the bathroom fills with steam, and the scorching water pummels on top of my head, soaking me. I don’t bother with taking the pajamas off, exhaustion winning over.

I lean back onto the wall behind me, just listening as the water hits the tiles. The smell of vomit is still strong, and it makes me retch a couple of times before I decide that I should probably get out of the shower.

But instead, my knees buckle, and I feel my body descend till my butt hits the floor. My eyes feel heavy, and even the shivering doesn’t stop me from falling asleep again. The darkness takes the place of the bathroom walls.

* * *

I groanas I try to push back the blanket off my overheated body, but a hand slaps my hands, and someone scolds me.

“No, don’t try to move the blanket. You have a cold and you need to stay warm.”

My eyes flutter open, but I shut them as soon as I had opened them, the light blinding me and causing my head to throb.

I feel the bile rising as my stomach swooshes, and I rush to get up to get to the bathroom. When I finally manage to stumble inside, I spill my guts into the toilet bowl.

A large, warm hand rubs my back, and I can vaguely make out a soothing voice encouraging me to breathe. I groan as I squeeze my eyes, feeling so tired and disoriented. As I lean back into the warmth, I feel a sense of security and safety I’ve never felt before, even as fatigue leaves me disoriented.

After emptying my guts and dry heaving a couple more times, I let the person guide me back to the bed and cover me with the blanket. A shiver rolls through me, and I snuggle into the bed, bringing the blankets up to my chin.

I struggle with the exhaustion once more, and before I fall asleep, I mutter a thank you, but I can’t make out a response I’m sleeping once again.

* * *

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