“How did she know what?”
“How did she know your window opened, Carmine? Because it’s my house, and I didn’t know!”
Carmine turned back to the window. Oh, shit. “Where is she?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
His father stared at him hard. “Why?”
Carmine blanched. Why? “Because it does. You’re a lot of things, Dad, but . . . Christ, this? I didn’t think you were this fucked up!”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have something to say?”
“Yeah. Nothing’s gonna bring her back.”
Vincent’s calm mask slipped. “What?”
“You heard me. It’s not gonna change anything! She’s still gone!”
Those words broke something inside Vincent, severing his tenuous grip with sanity. He grabbed his gun and aimed at Carmine’s head.
“You won’t shoot me,” Carmine said. “I look too much like her.”
Vincent’s hand shook, confirming it. “Stay away from the girl.”
He meant it as a threat, but Carmine only felt relief. It meant that Haven was still there, somewhere . . . but he had no intention of keeping his distance from her.
* * *
Time went by torturously slow for Haven as she held her position in the dark bedroom. Her muscles ached, nothing alleviating the tension. She cried until exhaustion took hold, sleep whisking her away.
A noise startled her awake later, the pain explosive the moment she opened her eyes. She faintly saw a form lurking in the shadows, her brow furrowing when she made out the sorrowful green eyes. Carmine knelt in front of her and wiped her tears before running his fingertips across the duct tape covering her mouth. “La mia bella ragazza, I’m sorry this happened to you.”
She studied him, her head tilted as if it would help her understand.
“It’s the anniversary of, uh . . . fuck! Why can’t I say it? It’s the day my mom . . .” He trailed off, leaving her confused. None of them spoke of Carmine’s mama. Haven didn’t even know her name. “I wish I could let you go, but he’d kill me. No, he’d kill you. He told me not to come near you, but I had to know you were okay. But, Christ, look at you! What’s wrong with him?”
He tucked some of her hair behind her ears, his fingers grazing over the duct tape once more. “I’ll be back in the morning. Stay strong, tesoro. I’ll never let anything like this happen again.”
* * *
“Are you awake?”
Haven’s eyes opened at the sound of Dr. DeMarco’s voice the next morning, his tone not as callous as it had been yesterday. Squatting down in front of her, he peeled up the corner of the duct tape and ripped it off. She winced, her lips throbbing like the beat of a drum.
Dr. DeMarco freed her from the restraints, and she rubbed her burning wrists. She sat there after he left with her head slumped forward, wiping her nose on her shirt as she flexed her limbs, trying to get the cramps out.
After a few minutes, Carmine knocked and stepped in with a glass of water. He knelt beside her. “You should drink this.”
She took the water and tried to smile at his generosity but couldn’t manage it. Everything hurt.
Carmine held out a small yellow pill. “Take this. The kids at school would eat this shit like candy if they could. It’ll take away the pain.”
She took the pill and swallowed it, her voice gritty as she whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Do you think you can get up?”
Carmine held his hand out to her and pulled her to her feet, but the moment he let go, her knees gave out. He cursed and snatched her before she hit the floor, his grip firm as he pulled her into his arms.
His face softened as he carried her to his room and placed her on his bed. Confused, she lay as still as possible as Carmine disappeared into his bathroom, returning with his arms full of first-aid supplies. He dropped it all on the bed beside her and sat down, a washcloth in his hand. “I need to fix you up. You don’t want any of this getting infected.”
Carmine washed her cheeks, the cool cloth feeling good against her skin. He brushed it across her mouth, being extra gentle, and washed the dried blood from her wrists. Haven did her best to ignore the pain, keeping her attention on his face, strained with concentration.
The pain receded as the drug kicked in. “You’re good at this.”
He smiled. “Now, this I’ve been doing my whole life.”
9
Carmine paused beside the bed and stared down at Haven, her face nuzzled into his pillow. He smiled unconsciously at the sight of her as he sat down. “Do you wanna talk about what happened?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she whispered. “I survived. That’s what I do. I’ll keep surviving until I don’t survive anymore.”
“So, you’re saying you’re a survivor?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Yeah, that didn’t sound smart. I think I need a thes—uh, one of those books with words.”
He laughed. “A thesaurus?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll get you one if you promise to use it.”
“Okay, I will.” Recognition flickered across her face as her smile fell. “You’ll have to read it to me, though. I can’t read.”
“Truthfully?”
She hesitated. “I can a little bit. People taught me, and I picked up some from closed captioning when my mistress watched the television . . . so I guess you can say I watched some television, too.”
He shook his head. “I still don’t understand why it mattered to that Michael guy.”