Page 35 of The Sicilian Bastard
Araceli
There was a sense of calm in the library. I was in my happy place, surrounded by books, lost in a fantasy world that didn't have the same issues the real world had. The smell of the pages drew me in. I could tell there were some newer books. They still had that feeling of not being broken in yet. They were stiff and smelled like the store. I reached for an older book. Its spine had small cracks in it from use. I could tell it was well loved. It smelled like the library and the worn spine showed the love it got. I pulled another and realized how organized the entire library was. Every book had a place. I was currently in the thriller section, every single book from the Alex Cross Series lined up in front of me. I hadn't been able to finish them. I felt surprised that I could remember I hadn't finished them. That was always what was so odd about this amnesia. I would know things and have a feeling, but not outright memories. Ask me when I read the Alex Cross Series and I couldn't say, but I knew deep in my bones that I had never finished it before. I wanted to bang my broken head against a wall. It was frustrating not being able to remember. There was this urgency I had. I couldn't explain it. I felt like I wouldn't be safe until I regained all my memories. Loud shouts distracted me from my inner turmoil. I kept to the library doors and stuck my ear to it.
"He's dead! We need to go after them. They need to pay. I have to avenge my dad," a man's voice had risen over the others.
The rest of the men were murmuring too low for me to make anything out. I cracked open the library door and peeked out. No one was in the hallway. That was unusual. There was always a guard pacing up and down for their shift. I crossed to the banister and leaned over. The chandelier blocked most of my view, but I was able to catch a quick glimpse of Luciano and Agosto. They were both bloody. I trembled in fear as my mind shot backward to a different time.
The balloons from the party floated around the room as it all wound down. All the women and children had left except for me. I was waiting for the last gift. It was something I was giving to them. Mi tia Maria sat me down a few weeks ago to explain it. Although I was still confused, this was the last gift that I had to give. All the women gave it freely.
"It's healed well, Niña," the faceless man stated.
A younger me was sitting in front of him, giggling. I felt so carefree. I rubbed the tattoo on my hip and he nodded to the men in the room.
"You only have to do one more loyalty test. Then I will never test you again." He caressed my head and I leaned into the affection.
It was rare for him to give it. His inner circle was around us. The men who protected him from everything. It was my thirteenth birthday. I was going to be accepted after this. No more closets. No more hits. Everything was going to be perfect.
He had six men in his circle. They were his eyes and ears in Vegas. The one who was closest to him was my Uncle Rueben. The men moved closer to me. I perched on the couch, my white birthday dress chosen by the king himself. Some hidden signal was given and the vultures descended on me. He sat back on his throne, a drink in his hand as he watched them defile me in ways I never knew existed. The worst had been mi tio. He took his depraved savagery out on my young body all while whispering his daughter's name in my ear.
My pretty white dress ripped to shreds. Blood spattered all over the scraps. I felt like my entire body was broken and bruised. That was how he gained loyalty. He stepped on the strong and crushed them under his boot. Only he allowed the strong their strength. The rest of us were dirt under his trademarked Gancini loafers. His evil smirk was the last sight I saw before I fell unconscious.
I opened my eyes and found myself still in the hallway. I was on the floor with my face pressed against the black metal balusters. I felt the bile well in my throat, nauseous from the memory that had risen in my mind. I had never imagined that I was suppressing something so dark in my mind. Who would do something like that? I knew I didn't want my memories back. I knew there was nothing for me in Vegas. That glimpse into the past further solidified that notion. I crawled to the top of the staircase and sat with my head hanging between my legs. I was trying to dispel nausea that bubbled inside. I didn't want to think of the memory anymore.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs and a pair of legs were in front of me. I looked up and locked eyes with Luciano.
"Why'd you leave the library?" His gruff voice soothed something inside of me.
"I heard yelling," I gasped out. It was still a little uncomfortable to speak, but I was managing it fine.
Luciano sat next to me on the top step. It was a tight squeeze, but we made it work. "What else? You were looking sick. Did somebody do something to you?" His entire body tensed up at the mere thought of me getting hurt.
I giggled, thinking about how far we had come. What would it have been like to grow up surrounded by someone like Luciano?
"I had a memory," I croaked. My jaw only twinged with discomfort.
Luciano tensed even further. He was strung so tight, I worried he might pull something. "Did you want to tell me about it?"
It relaxed something in me that he wasn't forcing me to tell him. His jaw clenched so I knew how much it cost him to ask rather than demand. I appreciated that he was trying. As quick and detached as possible, I relayed what I could to him. I worried he was going to lose his shit. I couldn't even look him in the eyes. Luciano briefly wrapped his arms around me. Then he let go. It was so short and shocking, I thought I had imagined it.
"Come with me." He bent down and held a hand out to me.
I took it, feeling like our relationship had shifted yet again. I wondered when I would feel like I was on even ground with him. We headed down the stairs in time to see Rosalina throw a vase at Nicolo's head. Her nose covered in gauze, I wondered if I broke it. I hoped so. Then the bitch would think twice about talking shit about Luciano. She seemed like the spoiled princess type.
"The fuck is wrong with you, Rose?" Nicolo was yelling at her, his face red and the veins in his neck straining against his flesh.
"I'm not going back to New York so you can take over being Don and fuck anything that moves. I want a divorce." Even though she had thrown something at him, Rosalina was relatively calm. Her voice was strong and never shook. She must've been thinking about this for a long time then.
"Shit," Luciano muttered.
I looked at him in confusion.
"Now is not the time for her to drop this kind of bomb on him," he clarified.
I looked at the somber faces of everyone watching the couple fight. Something horrible had happened. I wanted to ask, but I figured I'd wait and see if someone let the information slip.
"You are my wife. You have to come back with me. This has gone on long enough. Stop being such a selfish cunt," Nicolo snapped at Rosalina.
I wasn't surprised that Luciano stepped forward, ready to intervene. No, what floored me was Agosto. Sweet Agosto grabbed the back of Nicolo's neck and pulled him away from Rosalina. Agosto, the brother I had assumed would never hurt a fly, threw hands. He wailed on Nicolo until Nicolo stopped moving. If I hadn't seen the small rise and fall of his chest, I would think he was dead. Agosto spat on Nicolo and motioned for the guards to move him elsewhere.
