The Lombardozzi Sorellina

Chapter 3 - A Sick Trick Exchanged For A Traumatic Reality

This chapter contains: Mentions of abuse and the consequences of it, Suicide, A slight panic attack (not extreme, just quick breathing?), Degrading words.

I end up on the park bench, not very far away from the house. But I doubt he will come after me, it will make him look suspicious. I don't have my phone, but I think it is well past midnight, so I pull my legs into my chest, rest my head on top of my knees and try to sleep.

                                                        ---------------------------------------------------

Vivianna POV:

I sat with my head in between my knees the entire night. The sleep didn't come easy and every time I almost gave into the sleep, the images from the last two days would find their way to my mind, resulting to me staring at the moon for the rest of the night.

The time of the morning I have been dreading for the entire night has unfortunately come. I decide that I will go back to the house and pack some clothes. I don't know where I'll be staying, but I can't stay there for any longer. I can't live there any longer. If Luca is at home, I will try and sneak in through the window to my room.

I begrudgingly trudge my way to the house. My ribs are throbbing, my tailbone is bruised or ruptured, my wrist looks swollen where Luca's teeth cut through my flesh, my scalp is burning, the engraved word on my back is stinging, my thigh is pulsating and my face is aching. It's been bad, but this is the worst.

When I arrive at the house, Luca's car is still parked outside. It is strange considering he is always at the bar or at work during the day. The money that he earns is just enough to pay for the necessary expenses – food (though I am barely allowed to eat), minimum clothes (I barely have any), electrical bills, and water bills (though I have to use cold water for my showers).

I first peek in through the kitchen window, but he isn't there. Then I peek through the living room window... he isn't there. Where is he? I walk around the house to my bedroom window, open it and climb in. If someone saw me now, they would call the police straight away and I would be arrested a burglar, because I doubt Luca will stick up for me. Once I make my way to the bathroom, I am almost too scared to look at my reflection in the mirror. Almost. I feel nauseous as I scan over my bruises, cuts, and blue discoloration under my eyes – I can't tell if they are from the lack of sleep or the beatings. Probably both. I turn with my back to the mirror and turn my head to see the words "disobedient little girl" carved out onto my back.

With a heavy sigh, I pull the small makeup bag from under my sink. It isn't much, but over the years, my mother and Luca was kind enough to buy me a limited amount of makeup to cover the evidence of abuse. I scrap the last bit of concealer I can, out of the bottle and make a mental note to ask Luca for another bottle before I get punished for not covering up. Once I am happy about the results, I stroll over to the pile of clothes in the corner of my room and pick up a jean and fleece long sleeve shirt and throw the rest into a small bag.

Luca most definitely had to have heard the moving in my room by now and come to see if I had returned for the punishment I escaped the previous night, but he doesn't. Maybe he is passed out drunk on his bed or somewhere in the house. Some weird part of me wants to see him one last time before I leave for good – I mean he was the man who paid for a roof over my head. So, I pick up the small bag I packed and slip out of my window. I walk along the house and come to a stand right outside his bedroom window.

I cautiously peek through the window. But what I see, makes my heart stop, while beating a little faster at the same time. My mouth falls agape, and I can't swallow the saliva down my parched throat. He is lying on the floor, in the middle of his bedroom, a gun in his limp hand and blood seeping out of his head.