Page 99 of The Sound of Silence

“Why do you do these things, Gia? I just wanted to love you. We were supposed to have babies, and I’d raise them and teach them in the White Room, just as mother taught me. I gave you everything but you had to fuck it all up,” he muttered, almost whining, before stepping between my legs and lowering himself down to me. When he reached for the elastic waistband of my yoga pants, I swung my arm up with all of my might and felt the kubotan sink into flesh.

“Fuck!” Ethan roared, but I didn’t stop. Pulling the knife out, I plunged it in a second time, then a third. He rolled off me, the hot iron clanging off to the side as he clutched his arm and blood-stained sleeve. “I can’t believe you fucking stabbed me! I told you not to fight me, damn it!”

“I’m not fighting you, Ethan. This is self-defense!”

Not wasting a moment, I quickly got to my feet, but Ethan was almost as quick. Lunging for me, he tripped over the corner of the area rug. It was like watching a scene in slow motion. With arms flailing as he went down, his head smacked the corner of the coffee table, and his body sprawled to the floor. He laid there unconscious and unmoving.

Knowing I didn’t have a moment to waste, I ran as fast as I could to the bedroom to retrieve the bat. If I hesitated even for a second, I knew I’d never be able to do what needed to be done. If I ever wanted to truly be free, there was no other option.

I had to kill him.

If I didn’t, he would surely kill me—something I’d always known, but I never truly believed this moment would come to fruition.

When I returned to the living room, I hoisted the bat over my head, preparing to throw all of my strength behind the swing. However, the expression on Ethan’s face made me pause. His body was perfectly still, and his eyes…they were open and vacant as if he was already…

“Ethan?” I hesitantly whispered.

Standing over him, I watched the stain of blood grow larger and larger on the carpet. It was coming from an unseen wound on his head. Using the toe of my boot, I gave him a slight nudge.

Nothing.

Cautiously, I squatted down to press my fingers to his neck. There was no pulse or intake of breath, no rise and fall to his chest. He wasn’t screaming at me, calling me names, or threatening me with things I knew he’d one day make good on.

He was just still.

And quiet… so very quiet.

Ethan was dead.

For the first time since meeting him, I was surrounded by the sound of silence.

Slowly, I stood. With the wooden bat in hand, I moved like a zombie toward my bedroom. Once there, I returned the bat to its proper place, then removed the material wrapped around my hands. Slipping the bulky rings from each finger, I balled them up in the material and shoved it in my sports bra. It was the best I could do until I could one day dispose of it all. Self-defense, even with the kubotan, was one thing, but there could be no evidence of intent.

After swapping out my boots for a pair of sneakers, I went into the bathroom and washed the baby oil from my arms and neck, then pulled on an oversized sweatshirt. Going back to the living room, I sat on the floor next to Ethan.

Tears began to stream down my face. I didn’t cry because he was dead but from the relief of knowing it was finally over. My chest heaved with sobs that came from deep in my core. I gave myself over to it, feeling all the hurt, betrayal, and anger. I mourned the fantasy of a man I thought I loved, finally saying goodbye to a part of my life that would never, ever be forgotten.

Wiping my tears from my face, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

“Hello. My name is Gianna Valentini. My husband…he’s dead.”

44

Gianna

Queens, New York

1 week later

Iexited Grand Central Terminal and headed outside to catch a cab. My skin prickled with goosebumps from the wind blowing off the East River as I waved my arm to signal a taxi.

“Where to, Miss?” the cab driver asked.

“The Mill Fitness Center in Queens.”

The driver pulled away from the curb, and I looked out the window at the passing streets. It seemed like I moved to this city a lifetime ago, even though it had been less than a year. Perhaps it was the stress of being on the run and looking over my shoulder every single day that made my time here seem endless. I couldn’t be sure. I only knew that after being away from New York for only a week, I had learned one thing.

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