Page 4 of The Last Hope

Chapter two

Selina

“Cazzo! (Fuck !)”

I let out a pained moan as I swung my foundation brush and bent over the lever, pressing my palms against the cold marble of the bathroom counter. I lifted my eyes toward my reflection, and a sob escaped me at the sight of the painful bruise on my cheek that I could not cover.

I looked up to the ceiling, my lashes fluttering to prevent the tears from falling and ruining the makeup I was barely managing to apply. I snorted and jumped when I heard a soft knock at the door, holding my breath.

“Mamma ?” asked a small voice behind it.

I sighed in relief, unlocked the door, and let in my ray of sunshine. He slipped into the room, and I quickly locked it again. I took him in my arms and grimaced at the pain that surged through my body as I set my son on the counter and smiled at him while brushing the bangs from his forehead.

“Why aren’t you dressed yet,Angelomio ?(my angel)” I asked softly.

“My jacket is in my room, but I can’t tie this !” he complained, holding out his bow tie.

I laughed, lifted the collar of his shirt, and tied the little bow tie before straightening his collar.

“There you go, my love,” I murmured, smoothing his shirt.

“Thanks,Mamma,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around me tightly, rubbing his nose against my ear—just as he always did.I love you—that’s what it meant.

We shared these little gestures to communicate. Speaking our feelings aloud was impossible, dangerous under this roof, so we had created our own language.

He stepped back, studied my face, and gently placed his warm little palm against my aching cheek, making me shudder.

“Does it hurt,Mamma ?” he asked so innocently that it shattered my heart. I shook my head, pressed my lips together, took his little hand, and kissed his palm.

“Not at all,Angelomio. Don’t worry.”

He stared at me for a few seconds and then nodded, though I knew he didn’t truly believe me. He was almost eight—old enough to see through my lies, yet too young to grasp the full horror of what he endured.

Suddenly, someone began drumming on the door, making us both jump. My son threw himself against me, clinging so tightly it made me wince.

“Mia dolce? (my sweetheart ?) Are you ready ?” asked the man on the other side, his voice gruff.

I wrapped my arms around my son, gently massaging his neck—It’s going to be all right.

“Selina ?” the voice called again.

I shut my eyes, burying my face in my son’s neck—go away, go away, go away—as the blows resumed, shaking the very walls.

“Unlock this damn door, Selina ! Open up ! Selina !”

My baby grabbed my wrist and squeezed it twice—our code.I’m afraid.

I sniffled, stepped back, and cupped his face in my hands, rubbing my nose against his—I’m here.

“Selina ! I swear, if you don’t open that door, you’ll pay for it,mia dolce! Do you hear me ?”

I lowered my son from the counter and turned toward the door. My whole body trembled as I closed my eyes, drew a shaky breath, and flung the door open—only to come face-to-face with my worst nightmare.

His eyes swept over my body, and the satisfaction gleaming in them made my skin crawl. He reached out to caress my unmarked cheek, brushing my cheekbone as he leaned in closer.

“You’re beautiful,Cara mia(my dear)—more beautiful than any of my dreams,” he whispered, pressing his nose against my temple.

I choked back a sob and began to count in silence :uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque, sei…

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