Page 2 of Savage Poet

“I dare you.” I goaded. Knowing we were trapped in a moment where mere seconds would decide my fate.

“Go.” He nodded to the front door.

“They’ll mow me down with bullets the second I step outside.”

“Chicken?”

He leaned down. His peppermint breath landed on my baby lips. “I’m not afraid of the devil himself. Run, little Fiorelli. Live while you can. One day I’ll come for you. And finish this. It’ll be much sweeter to take your life when you’ll want more to live it. I won’t kill a child. But a woman—there’s much more interesting ways to punish one.”

“Coward,” I breathed. “I bet you’ve never even been with a woman. You’re barely older than me.”

He tucked his gun in his holster and grabbed me by the throat. The door burst opened. “End her, Roque, for family honor.”

He leaned in closer, dragged me back to the coat closet and shut the door. But he flicked on the lights. Maybe he was a pervert who wanted to watch. He wanted to witness the moment he stole my life. Before the dots started to swim and my vision began to fade, all I could see was the gold flecks peppered in with his stunning colored aqua pupils. He whispered words to me about angels and death. He held me close. He was a beautiful monster. He smelled good. His words were hushed murmurs tickling my hair. Could an angel of death seduce?

Air. I needed air. I clawed his arms, but he wouldn’t let go. They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. Mine didn’t. It was too short. All I saw were all the thing’s I’d never do.

Kiss a boy.

Swim naked in the ocean.

Go to college and get stupid drunk.

All the stupid, little things many take for granted—I’d never do.

Dots clouded my vision. It wouldn’t be long now. His aqua eyes darkened as I slipped closer to the darkness. At least all my family was there waiting. I won’t be alone.

“I’ll see you on the other side, Little Red.”

But he won’t. This one with his eerie gaze and dark as pitch hair will only go straight to hell and if he dares to even find me and disrupt my peace—I’ll cast him down into the pits of hell myself.

I’m not sure if I fainted, died, or maybe a mixture of both.

I awoke sometime later in the woods. He left me by a small stream with a note and one of those funeral flowers tucked into my hand.

Today wasn’tyour day to die. Live while you can, little one. I’ll come for you one day.

My throat was on fire.I knelt by the stream and drank the cold water. It soothed the burn for a bit, but I knew I needed to get out of the woods. The darkness was almost upon me. I refused to let it win. He was darkness… death and somehow, he let me escape its clutches tonight.

I’d do what he said. I’d survive. I’d live. But as I stared up at the stars playing peek-a-boo through the branches on the trees, I vowed he wouldn’t find me. I might still be a child, but I know way more about adult stuff than I should. I know how he meant to hurt me.

I followed the stream, my dress shoes crunching over fallen twigs and leaves. It was almost twilight. In the distance I saw lights flickering through the dense forest. When I reached a clearing, I knew exactly where I was. He left me in the woods a few miles from the cemetery.

I stayed hidden in the shadows, sheltered by trees as I followed the road. Shadows would become my friend. And my favorite thing to wear. I was tired, hungry, and hurt. But I never wavered. I knew I had to go home. The Salvatore’s weren’t looking for a dead girl who rose from the woods.

When I reached the street by my house there were no sleek cars or lights left on. It was dark. Just like my new world. I used the hidden key in the garden and slipped in the back door.

I didn’t bother turning on any lights. I didn’t need them anymore. Not when I was a girl who blended with the night. I washed my hands and made myself supper. Then I went upstairs and packed a backpack. I knew where Papa had his hidden safe and what the combination was. I emptied it. Took all the money and my passport and birth papers. I stuffed it all in under my stuffed kitty. I grabbed some jeans and boots and put them on. Went back to the kitchen for snacks and then to my father’s study. I took his gun.

“Someday, little-man Salvatore… I’ll spill your blood just as you spilledmi famiglia’s.”

With hands shaking with rage and fear, I picked up the old rotary phone on Papa’s desk.

“Zio?”

“Romina? We thought… I had a frantic call from Palermo earlier. I thought… they said you were all gone. That Roque personally killed you himself.”

“No, Zio. I got away.”

---