Rebecca Downhill (Becca) has known nothing in her life but a strict father who is involved in businesses with the Italian mafia in NY, an absent mother who has taught her to be obedient and fulfill her duties towards the family, and a twelve years o...
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I knew she would ask for it again. Divorce, that is.
This is the second time. The first time she asked, I wanted to take my whole anger on her till she fainted in my arms. I wanted, but I couldn't.
I made love to her and prayed each second that she'll feel sorry for asking, but she didn't. And ever since then, I kept expecting the same question every day. I knew she wanted this more than anything.
And for that reason, I wanted to be rough. I wanted to punish her, but I was weak and had never been able to do anything but love her, caress her for tenths of minutes in a row when she was too spent to keep herself awake, holding her in my arms and wishing to die before letting her go, tasting her skin and filling my lungs with her scent.
That night was my torture, my travel to hell and back because I knew she wanted me to be tender, to be the husband I used to be, but I wanted to make her feel the agony I felt when she asked me to let her leave.
I knew it was bad of me to keep myself distant and cold, but I couldn't show I still loved her, or else they would have used her against me, especially her father. And I didn't mind her being used against me because I would have gladly given up my life for hers.
If I'm dead I know I have Gio to keep her safe and I trust him like a brother.
But she would never be safe under the so-called protection of her father because the motherfucker would never think twice before abandoning or trading her again.
They must never know she is the core of my life, the reason for my existence till I'm done with them all.
I surely felt her fear that night and it poisoned me to my bones. I deserved a bullet right through my brain for it.
But then I melted and gave in to the bliss of having her in my arms, like every fucking time, feeling her entire body with my palms and my lips when she was wasted and numb, each of her sobs thrusting my heart like thunders.
I know I'm a monster but the times when she's spent and doesn't have the strength to reject me are the only moments I can love her, even hidden in the darkness of her faint, the only moments I can allow myself to be that man madly in love even though tormented while loving but not having her fully.
The dirty affairs of her father and brother grew to dangerous levels and hardly I took my father out. They were partners.
Then I threw myself in, putting on the table a fake business and using it to trade her, to take her out of her father's house, which had been my priority from the moment I saw her first.
The plan was to turn them all into ash immediately after I put Becca to safety.
It's a life and death matter, but I've never thought twice.
My death means nothing to me compared to hers. I'll never take lightly any threat on her life, or let it happen.
When I saw the fucking empty bottle of pills on the bathroom floor and I realized what she did, it felt as if it was my hand that shoved those damn pills down her throat.
