Page 131 of Vicious Behaviors
“I swear to you that it isn’t,” I insist, shaking my head, unwilling to let Marcelo’s sister-in-law think the worst of him.
“I bet the next thing you’re going to say is that you tripped and fell,” she mumbles in annoyance.
In Mina’s mind, it looks like I’m protecting my abuser with any flimsy excuse I throw at her. Can I really blame her for such a reaction? I’d think the same if I were in her shoes.
Damn it. Marcello better have told his brother everything by now, like I asked him to. If he didn’t, the bruises on my neck are bound to raise a shitload of questions.
Not everyone will be as forgiving as I was when they see the ramifications of Marcello’s one night bender. Especially if I can’t explain that it wasn’t him who strangled me last night in our bed, but his alter.
I saw it so clearly in his black eyes—the fiend staring back at me, wanting nothing more than to completely erase me from Marcello’s life. I had become its worst enemy, and for good reason, too. I represent a change in Marcello’s life. A life where he doesn’t have to be tormented every day by a voice that only wants carnage and bloodshed. I represent hope when the demon inside him only offers despair and misery. I embody love and light, where his alter craves only the cold black abyss of death. My one sin is that I want to save Marcello while his alter only seeks to destroy him.
However, I did lie to Marcello yesterday. Ididfight back and try to break the psychopath’s grip away from me. But then I saw a flicker of the man I fell in love with push through, trying his best to fight through the darkness. Trying to come back to me with all his might. So that’s when I decided to stop resisting and let it all play out. Marcello wasn’t exactly thrilled with me gambling with my own life. And in the light of day, he was right to be apprehensive. It was by far the riskiest, most life-threatening experience I have ever put myself through, and that’s saying something since I spent over three years stuck in a war zone. Still, I had my own selfish reasons to take such a risk.
If Marcello’s love is as deep as mine, then I know in my bones that he will do everything in his power to ensure no real harm will come to me. I literally bet my life on it. And now that Marcello sees that he’s stronger than his alter, maybe he can start to heal from all the torment and anguish he had to endure alone. After the lengthy conversation we had last night, where Marcello explained in vivid detail how the alter even came to be, I’m positive he is now ready to take the necessary steps to seek professional help to deal with his mental health disorder.
Yes, it was risky. But the reward is far greater.
Yesterday, Marcello and I learned that we would die for each other if we had to. But now that all our secrets have been revealed, my only wish is that, united, we can find a way to fight and live for each other.
I tap my fingers on the wheel, wondering how much I could explain to Mina about this peculiar circumstance. I don’t want to say too much since Marcello needs to be the one to confront his demons if he has any chance of overcoming them. It all starts with him telling the truth to his family. Still, every second that Mina stares at my bruises is another second that her hatred for the man I love grows. And I can’t have that.
“You might not believe me,” I begin, my gaze nervously flicking between the road and the rearview mirror. “But I promise that these bruises are not at all what you’re thinking. I mean, haven’t you ever gotten a little carried away in the bedroom? Where things just got out of hand, but in a good way?” I blurt out, sex games going awry being the only explanation that I could think of.
“Do you honestly expect me to believe that this,” she pulls down my scarf to show the welts on my skin, “was consensual?”
“Oh, come on, Mina. I thought you were more evolved than stooping to kink shaming.” I nervously laugh, hurrying to fix my scarf.
Mina’s forehead creases as she eyes me intently. “You asked for this?” she asks, a sliver of doubt finally reaching her head.
I hate lying to Mina since I really enjoy her company and hope to build an actual friendship with her one day, seeing as she’s Marcello’s family and all. But right now, my only concern is protecting Marcello. When he finally sits his family down and tells them the hardships he’s faced alone during most of his life, then I can tell Mina the truth. Not before.
“What can I say? A little choking and dabbling in breath play is kind of our thing. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“That and camping in your living room, it seems,” she adds, still unsure if she should believe me or not.
“Weird, right?” I chuckle awkwardly. “But it works for us.”
“It appears so,” she retorts, still not completely buying it, but not entirely ruling it out either.
Good enough for me. At least for now, I bought Marcello some time. I call that a win.
The accomplished feeling barely has time to settle in my chest before reality comes crashing back. As I turn past the stoplight toward the gym, I see patrol cars blocking the street, including the familiar black SUVs of the FBI.
“No, no, no,” I blurt out, stopping the car in the middle of the street.
“Bollocks.” Mina’s out of the car as fast as I am, leaving both doors wide open while we sprint toward the scene.
“You can’t pass through, Miss,” a beat cop says, blocking the view to the entrance of Carmine’s gym.
“Listen here, you little cunt, my husband is in there. This is his grandfather’s gym. I demand you let us in this very minute,” Mina shouts in his face, her posh London accent doing very little to earn us any favors with him.
“I said move, or I’ll make you move. You’re not in England anymore. We do things differently here,” he says, tapping his hand onto his baton.
“If you so much as touch us, I’ll report you to your supervising officer for unnecessary, exaggerated force and police brutality,” I retort, my FBI assertive tone coming through.
“Just back the fuck down, Karen,” he says, pulling his baton from the ring on his belt, as if to threaten he wouldn’t think twice about using it on us.
I don’t think. Just react. I take the baton from his hand and grab him, spinning him around until the baton is pressed against his throat. “Now you’re going to listen to me very carefully. My name is Isobel Graham. Special Agent Isobel Graham, and you’re interfering with my crime scene.”
