Page 7 of The Sicilian's Obsession
Katima
Iheaded downstairs into the kitchen. My mortification had set in. Arturo could see my crazy. I needed to gain control, reel it in. Last summer, my dad tried to change my routines and it almost broke me. Arturo had been here for less than a day and I was thrown completely off. It didn't help that he was a fine specimen, with his blatant dislike of me. I couldn't change his misconceptions. It was just like that with everyone else. And yet I tried to calm my panic. He tried to help me through my hyperventilation. To state that I was confused would be a gross understatement. It wouldn't last. Soon enough, he would realize how hard it was to deal with me. Then he would leave. Just like everyone did. They all left me.
"Do you want to order something to eat?" Arturo said from behind me. I didn't even hear him walk up. His footsteps were quiet. That was another unnerving quality about him. I just nodded my head yes and let him choose—pizza, the best food on Earth. We went back and forth via text, figuring out toppings. We settled on two large meat lovers. When that was settled, Arturo began to grill me.
"Do you not talk because of the stutter?"
I nodded my head yes.
"Why not go to a speech therapist?"
I texted him back, We have done all that before.
He took my answers and let it go. Normally, I would get asked more intrusive questions, but Arturo wasn't the type for idle conversations. We sat in companionable silence. I was going through my emails. Arturo was on his phone as well. As much as I wanted to learn about him, I didn't want to embarrass myself again. I was almost done checking my emails when one caught my eye.
I'm coming for you, little butterfly.
I almost pressed delete, but something stopped me, a niggling in the back of my mind. Something told me this was important.
"Katima?" Arturo was standing in front of me. When did he move? He looked pensive. I wondered how long he had been trying to get my attention.
He asked me, "What's wrong?"
I showed him the email. He snatched my phone and got on his. I didn't know who he was talking to, but I understood he wanted them to trace the email. My breathing was shallow as I remembered something.
My hand was covering my mouth while I tried to control my shallow breathing. The bad man let me out of the box. I'm not sure how long I've been here. Where is my daddy? I was hiding under the bed. I knew the bad man was out there, from the springs of the bed creaking. He was bouncing up and down, crushing me, almost like he knew I was under there. His head popped down in front of me and I screamed.
"I found you, little butterfly." His icy blue eyes were manic, and I watched as his tattooed fingers reached for me, screaming again.
"Katima." My body was being shaken roughly. My eyes fluttered opened. I was kneeling on the floor, my arms wrapped around my stomach. Arturo had his hands around my shoulders. The shaking had stopped. I was trembling, though.
"You started screaming. What's going on?" Arturo looked as shaken as I felt.
I muttered, "I know that name."
Arturo's eyebrows furrowed. "What name?"
"Little butterfly." I let out a shaky exhale and realized I haven't stuttered once.
"Do you know who sent the email?" Arturo was typing on his phone. His serious face was sexy.
"Yes and no." I felt insane, so he may as well hop on the crazy train.
He said gruffly, "Explain." He crossed his thick arms over his wide chest.
I shook my head and drew in a shaky breath, trying to fix my thoughts.
"I have nightmares about him, but I never see his face. I know that I know what he looks like, but I just can't remember."
Arturo shook his head in understanding. "Trauma repression." He looked far away for a minute before his face blanked over. He texted someone and I heard the doorbell ring.
He ordered, "Stay here."
So bossy. I rolled my eyes and went to get a glass of water.
Arturo came back with the pizza. "I sent a message to your father, but I promise I'll get to the bottom of this. For now, let's eat."
The flashback or whatever I just had started to fade, leaving me feeling more like myself.
