Our New Story- Riffnardo (West Side Story)

Diesel's Secret

Graziella's POV

I remember him every time I close my eyes. Hear his laugh, feel his cold fingers on me. I wish I could forget what happened. But I can't, and it always comes back to haunt me. I wake up screaming myself, covered in sweat. In my worst dream, there was no Jason to save me. I was trapped, helpless, and Diesel went through with it. I was left crying, crumpled on the floor, an empty shell of a person. I can't bring myself to lie down, to close my eyes because I know what's coming.

I drifted off without meaning to. Tonight, I had the worst nightmare yet. I am bound to a chair, and there is a strip of fabric tied tightly around my mouth. It's dark, so I can only see the chair and a small amount of space around me. Diesel appears. He is smiling wickedly. This is not the drug induced, hazed Diesel. He knows exactly what he was doing. This is intentional. He's spinning something around his finger. My breaths quicken as I realize that it is a shining, silver gun, polished to perfection. I want to scream, but the gag holds my sound in. "Has anyone ever told you that you're very beautiful, Graziella?" He starts to walk around me, fingering my long hair. "Very, very beautiful." I wish he would get it over with. We both know what he wants. The gun is only away to scare me into cooperating, and, my God is it ever working. "Such a shame," he whispers, brushing my hair away from my neck, "such a waste." He places the cold gun on the back of my neck. My heart pounds in my chest. No. This can't be happening. He only wants to force me into sex. He doesn't want ...want to kill me...does he? He reaches around my head and pulls the gag down. I pant for a minute, breathing in the cold air. Finally, I speak. "Let me go," I say. My voice is hoarse and rough, as if I'd been screaming. He laughs coldly. Of course he wouldn't let me go. Why would he? He presses his fingers into my chest and runs them upward, up my neck to hold my face so I'm forced to look at- "Riff!" I scream. Riff is held in place by faceless men. He is bloody and battered. "Grazy!" He screams, thrashing madly. "You ready to watch your girlfriend die?" Diesel asks, thrusting the gun forward into my neck. "No! Let her go!" Riff screams. Diesel laughs. Riff's crying, which tears my heart out. I'm screaming, and Diesel's still laughing and Riff's still crying. There's a blinding pain in my neck, and I wake up, still screaming. I sit up on the couch and hug my knees to my chest, rocking backand forth slightly, sobbing. It's not real, I remind myself. It was just a nightmare, a terrible, horrible nightmare. My ribs ache. He's taken everything from me. My innocence, my freedom, and now my peace of mind. When will Diesel stop destroying everything I treasure? If Riff was here, he would protect me. If Riff was here, this would never have happened in the first place. Diesel wouldn't have become addicted to drugs. Even if he tried anything, Riff would kill him on the spot. I never realized how weak I was, how much I depended on him for my safety. "Knock, knock." I look up. Diesel is standing in the doorway. He looks completely focused and normal, not at all under the influence of drugs. At first, I panic, thinking that my nightmare has come to life, bringing horrors that I can't awaken from. I sit up straighter and throw a pillow at Diesel. "Get out," I say, "get out right now." Diesel dodges the pillow, looking pained, fighting off tears. "Grazy, listen." He sidesteps the couch and sits. I shrink backwards slightly. "I never wanted to hurt you. I never-" he looks away, trying to keep his tears at bay, "never wanted to do this to you. I've had something I needed to tell you for a long time." I notice that he is speaking without his heavy, New York accent. I know that he can turn it on and off, being originally from California. He only turns it off when he's serious. Slowly, I uncurl my legs. "I love you. I know that you're not going to love me, and I know that you're still in love with Riff, but I'm in love with you, Grace." My real name. Only Riff ever called me that. He reaches out, an innocent look that asks 'is this okay?' I nod slightly and hold out my hands. He takes them. I wince slightly, now afraid of his touch. Diesel bites his lip. I relax. "You don't have to love me, because I know that you won't." I hope he won't kiss me. I can't kiss him without the nightmares returning. And then there's Velma. He closes his eyes and leans toward me. I gently place my hand on his chest. "I'm sorry," I say softly, "but I just can't." Diesel nods and stands. As he walks towards the door, I notice rope hanging from his belt. "What's the rope for?" He turns, smiling wickedly. I feel fear spreading through my heart. "Oh, this?" He slowly uncoils it. "This was in case you denied my kiss." He advances towards me. I start to move backwards and fall off the couch, continuing backwards. "Get away from me." He drops to his knees and hits me across the face. I scream and put my hands up to protect my face. He loops the rope around my wrists and tightens it, yanking me forward. My lips collide with his. I struggle, but he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me back. I keep my lips closed. He finally pushes me backwards. "That's all I wanted," he whispers, "was that so hard?" He leaves, then, leaving me tied up on the floor, broken, bloody, battered and crying.