Page 82 of The Italian Reckoning
Cormac’s barely finished speaking before I’m flying out of the apartment like hellhounds are nipping at my ankles.
I’m going to kill that fucker with my bare hands.
36
SARAH
“'Doesn’t it feel that way this time? That everything I’ve worked for is finally going to be displayed in this absolutely gorgeous masterpiece. If we’re lucky, they’ll give you a front page spread and I’ll get to see my work spread out world wide. You know how the interest is these days. A single picture is forever. I’m going to be remembered in history.”
God, will he ever shut up?
I don’t know when but at some point, a part of me completely shut off from everything Bobby was saying. Maybe it was when his blade moved from my abdomen to my thighs, or when he was debating how terrible it would be if he forgot to sign his own work. At some point, I disconnected from everything.
It almost feels like I’m above my body watching everything happen rather than experiencing it myself. The pain is familiar, like the ache of an old ankle injury years after the fact. His skill with the blade seems to have improved since the last time.
What an odd thought.
As if this takes any skill.
Each incision is shallow and precise across my abdomen as he waffles about taking his time and making sure we both enjoy the moment. Long, thin incisions down my thighs hurt less than the smaller ones on my body. They join together and form one singular throbbing ache that flares up hot every time I take a deep breath.
Still, I watch from above. My constant tears don’t register. Even the whimpers, muffled sobs, and yelps don’t sound like my own voice.
“Fucking hell!” Bobby’s anger snaps me back into my body, so disconnected that I hadn’t realized he’d stopped until now. He stares down at his phone with a deep frown on his face, then mutters to himself. “Dog shit security system. Sorry, babe.” His eyes flick up to mine. “Looks like we’ll have to hurry things along.”
Anger fogs his eyes as he turns to the tray next to my table and starts aggressively moving and slamming his tools around. He finds whatever he’s looking for within a couple of minutes and then suddenly, he’s over me with a bright red lipstick in hand. “You know what this is, don’t you?”
Oh, no.
Please, no!
As soon as the horrible leather strap is removed from my mouth, sobs pour out of me but no matter how hard I try, I can’t get words to form. Anything I want to say is swallowed up by sobs and my jaw trembles when I press my lips together.
Do something, Sarah! Fucking do something!
But I can’t. I’m too fucking scared.
He holds my jaw firmly with one hand and smears the red lipstick across my swollen, damp lips. Each touch makes me recoil violently, but with nowhere to go, I’m trapped as he works. He swaps out the red lipstick for cakey foundation that hesmears messily over my cheeks, then globs of vibrant color are stroked over my damp eyes.
He’s rushing.
This makeup application lacks the finesse of what happened to me before. Back then, he took his time using brushes and wands to apply everything perfectly. Even Belle and Kara looked professionally painted. So why is he rushing?
What was on his phone?
“Don’t you look beautiful.” Bobby smiles down at me with that familiar smile I saw every day at the coffee shop, only this time, it brings me a deep sense of horror rather than the comfort of repetition each time I start my day.
I try to say something back, try to even spit in his face, but I’m trembling so hard all I manage to do is moan fearfully. Each blink switches me between the present and the trauma of all those years ago when I was in the same situation.
Countless times, I swore this would never happen again. Countless times, I swore I would get better and make sure no one put me in this kind of position ever again.
How I lied to myself.
“Don’t worry,” Bobby says with a lazy sigh. “I’m not ending things yet. I just want a sneak peek.” He rises over me and pulls himself onto the table, hovering over me. I’m locked onto his eyes, staring up in terror as a cold, familiar squeak of plastic catches my ears.
Saran Wrap.
He spreads it out with his hands and then holds it up to the light, pulling it taut. The entire world blurs through the thin plastic as he lowers it down and presses it over my face.
