I didn't answer. I climbed onto the narrow spring bed, curling into myself. But every time I closed my eyes, I heard Giacomo's voice. Nadina's laugh. Pietro's silence. And their baby's cries.
They'd taken everything from me. In five days, I'd be gone. And when I left, they'd regret it.
Around midnight, I drifted off.
I woke to scraping metal.
My eyes opened just as the cell door creaked.
Seven women stepped in.
My heart stopped.
Before I could scream, a hand clamped over my mouth.
"Nadina sends her warmest regards," one of them sneered.
And then the beating began.
Fists rained down. Kicks to my ribs. Fingers clawed at my skin. One bit my shoulder, another yanked my hair until I screamed. This was a contracted hit inside the walls. Paid for, arranged, delivered with the efficiency of someone who had done this before. There was nothing random about it. Seven women, midnight, an unlocked cell. Someone had greased the right palms.
I whimpered and tried to fight, but it was useless.
When they were done, I was barely breathing. My body throbbed. Blood soaked the floor. I heard faint shouting, guards rushing in, and then everything went dark.
When I opened my eyes, everything smelled like antiseptic.
The sharp beeping of machines echoed beside me. I was in a hospital. Pain lit up every nerve in my body.
"Don't sit up," a voice warned.
I turned slowly.
The same doctor. The one who'd warned me before.
"How do you feel?"
I tried to shrug. My shoulders screamed.
"Terrible," I rasped.
My voice was gone. My throat was shredded.
"You were in critical condition. You've been unconscious for three days."
"Good," I whispered. "Two more days to go."
He frowned.
"No, Liliana. This isn't good. I warned you. And now… I'm sorry, but you'll never be able to carry a child again."
I stared at the doctor without blinking, my heart already numb. My hands subconsciously touched my stomach and a small whimper escaped my lips.
"I'm so sorry, Liliana," the doctor said. "The bleeding was too much. It was the only way to save your life."
I was heartbroken and devastated but still the tears couldn't drop. I let out a sigh. They'd taken everything from me and left me with nothing. I'll do the same to them.
My thumb found the inside of my left wrist. I pressed into the scars there, the ones from the broken glass, still fresh beneath the bruises. The pain was the only thing that felt real. The only thing that was mine.