Page 30 of The Madman and his broken Princess
I shook my head. I was free now, but I knew I wouldn’t be in my nightmares. I’d relive the horrors of the past. I didn’t want that now. I didn’t want to feel powerless, not even in a scenario made up in my mind.
Amelia disappeared in the bathroom and emerged in a simple white cotton nightgown. In the endless hours in my cell, I’d imagined kissing Amelia once we were free. I had imagined doing more. But I wanted things to go right. I wanted us to be married before we took another step. I wanted Amelia to be of age. I wanted my power to be unwavering and my body to be strong and healed. I wanted Amelia to have left the horrors behind, even if I couldn’t.
Until then, she’d be mine, yet she couldn’t be. I’d wait until the time was right.
“I don’t understand the look in your eyes,” she said with a small, uncertain smile.
“I’m just trying to believe that this is reality.”
“It is.” She stretched out on the bed, then curled up on her side, releasing a small sigh. “Are you sure you don’t want to join me?”
I moved closer and perched on the edge of the bed. I stroked my palm over her hair. “Sleep tight. I’ll keep the monsters at bay.”
Her eyelids fluttered. Before she fell asleep, she murmured, “Please don’t become one of them.”
I wished I could give her that promise, but I was already one of them.
I had fallen asleep in the early morning but had woken after an hour from a nightmare that had replayed the first weeks in Lamorgese’s hands, when my body hadn’t been used to torture yet, when Lamorgese still had been eager to create as much pain as possible for me, and when humiliation had been constant.
I reached forThe Tale of Peter Rabbitbeneath the bed, only to realize it wasn’t there. I wasn’t in my cell, and I hadn’t taken it with me when I’d fled.
I needed to get my book, but the idea of entering the basement left my heart racing with terror. Sweat drenched my skin as I walked into the bathroom for another shower. Amelia’s sleep had been fitful too, and she’d woken screaming twice, but now she was sound asleep. After the shower, I dressed in the pants again and left the room, locking the door after me to make sure Amelia was safe.
The hallways were as I remembered them, the hardwood floor the same dark walnut. I’d walked these halls countless times, yet today felt like the first time in many ways.
I considered going to the kitchen for breakfast or into the ballroom, where Nino, Remo, and Niccolo had spent the night with their other men, but instead, my feet carried me toward the basement. I hesitated on the staircase that led into the shadows. Cold sweat broke out on my skin, and my breath quickened as the memories crept up on me, and fear threatened to take over.
I forced my body forward, took one step after the other until the familiar stench of blood, sweat, and urine filled my nose. After hours in the light, my eyes had trouble getting accustomed to the dim light again, and it took a bit for the door that led to the cellblock to take form before me. I gripped the handle, once again overcome with panic. I stifled the sensation and opened the door. After another deep breath, I stepped into the cellblock where the stench of decay, of misery, and death clung to everything. It was a smell that seemed to fester under my skin. Even several showers hadn’t changed that.
Two men stood guard beside the door. One of them was Niccolo, whose expression twisted with surprise upon seeing me.
“Nestore, what are you doing here?”
I scanned the five cells. In the three years I’d spent down here, I had rarely had company except for Amelia. Now, every cell was filled with at least two prisoners. Every cell except for the one at the end. My old cell.
Niccolo touched my shoulder. I tensed in anticipation of pain. Touch had always meant agony in the past, unless Amelia had touched me. He dropped his hand at a look from me. “He’s in there. Nino patched him up, so he survived the amputation.”
I nodded, gathering my courage before I strolled past the four other cells. The prisoners gave me looks of trepidation. Many of them had been part of my torture. Every one of them would regret the day they decided to lay a hand on me.
I arrived at the end of the corridor. Lamorgese was stretched out on the pallet against the wall. A drip was inserted in the back of his hand. His pallor was ashen, his eyes closed. For a heart-stopping moment, I worried he was dead, then I noticed the shallow rise and fall of his chest. “You won’t die today. Or tomorrow.”
He tilted his head to the side, eyelids peeling open. “If you keep cutting limbs off, I’ll be gone by the end of the week.” His sneer spiked my rage.
I raised the bone. “This will be turned into a dagger. I can’t wait to test it on you.”
Trepidation filled his face as he stared at something that had been part of his body not too long ago. “I killed your family. I stole three years of your life from you. I saw you shit and pee yourself in agony, saw you throw up other people’s shit, and beg for mercy like a baby. You can’t get even, Nestore. You’d have to start by killing Amelia, and you can’t. You’re too weak to do what it takes.”
I bared my teeth, rage burning me up. “Amelia will be my wife, and she will rule over my kingdom with me while you rot in this cell. I have years to pay you back, and I will.”
I turned to Niccolo and held out my hand. He gave me the key without a word. The brief flicker of compassion on his face made me furious. I didn’t want to be pitied. I wanted to be feared.
I unlocked the cage, noting with satisfaction how Lamorgese flinched. I strode toward the bed, then got down on my knee and reached for the book beneath it. When my fingers closed around the leather cover, I relaxed. I straightened with the book in my hand.
Lamorgese watched me with furrowed brows.
I turned. There was still too much to do before I could focus on him, and I was still too caught up in everything that had happened down here. If I wanted to maintain the upper handduring our encounters, I needed to leave the weak, broken part of me behind and really embrace the darkness I could feel knocking.
I left the basement, ignoring Niccolo’s attempt to talk to me. I wasn’t sure if I could forgive him for taking three years to come for me. Part of me was glad he was alive, but another envied the life he’d been allowed to live while I had gone through hell.
