11
Mia
So, this is what humiliation feels like. I just hope the theme isn’t a recurring one. Business seems to be booming for Antonio as, yet again, I’m passed on a message from Sophia telling me that he’s unavailable because of just that. At this point, I’m not sure why there’s a need to tell me at all. Aren’t I supposed to be a prisoner, some kind of barter chip? Or just a piece of meat that the lion plays with from time to time, pouncing and hitting but never actually taking a bite?
While the embarrassment of the other night still sits boiling in my belly–about being a virgin, about actually wanting him to be the one who takes that away from me–I still want his attention. I still want him to come back and show me that he’s not angry, or disgusted, or even plain bored. I think that would be the worst of all. While I feel freer than I’ve ever felt before, my emergence into womanhood might just be the opposite of what he’s looking for. Yet…he’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. It’s all too humiliating, too hurtful to be rejected because of my inexperience.
As far as days cooped up in a bedroom goes, today’s been awfully quiet. It feels like the whole place has emptied. Wouldn’t that be something, if I had kept myself closed off in a room that isn’t even locked, while everybody else disappears? Hell, the apocalypse could start, and I’d be none the wiser—that is, if I didn’t keep my eyes on the men guarding the courtyard. It must be extraordinarily quiet for them too, as their small talk has even faded away, leaving them to suck on their cigarettes with little interest toward any other kind of duties. As the day draws to an end, my temptation to leave the room grows. Like a piece of chocolate in the bedside drawer, your mind keeps bringing to your attention, the unlocked door is hard to put to one side. So is the fact that I allowed myself to be taken on this ridiculous escapade into voluntary captivity. Seriously, I’m starting to question my own sanity for getting into this situation, for allowing it to happen. Imagine being in my shoes, that a guy as forceful as Antonio left you with your dress around your waist just when you decided to show him that not only did you understand his desires but shared them.
There must be something wrong with me.
Without much in the way of entertainment, my mind drifts through the books I’ve read like episodes of a television show. I remember characters in various tricky situations: A strong woman held captive by an evil man. A weak woman winning the heart of a gentleman. What did they do? How did they reach their happy ending? Almost always, the happy ending wasn’t what they’d originally wanted. I’m caught between wanting that evil man to free me of my innocence and pull me into his life of adventure, and hoping to escape and become the heroine of my own story. Only, what then? Where to next? Who will I end up losing myself to? Surely, he won’t be anything like Antonio.
My father was particularly proud of the selection of books he had on offer about Italy under the World Travel section. Most of them tell the same stories—the best places to go, brief tales of the vital roles the ancient civilizations played, things we take for granted like the invention of the straight road. That’s not, however, where my mind takes me. Instead, it brings forward a practice that not only exists in Italy but around the world. “Bride kidnapping” is the term they used, though the fact of the matter is that all it meant was that a man could take a woman against her will, keep her hostage, force her into the family. I can’t help but imagine myself as one of those women. I wonder how many of them found themselves in the same situation, a barter chip to conclude a deal made by men.
Poor helpless women, I scoff at the thought. Perhaps that’s what Antonio thought he was getting. Too bad for him, because after that humiliating experience, and the time he’s left me to wallow over it, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.
I’m guessing since it’s been dark for only a couple of hours, that it can’t be much later than 9:30, yet, unlike all the other nights, I haven’t heard a peep from outside my room. Dinner was left by Sophia, but that was around what I thought to be 6. Since then, there hasn’t even been the distant sound of a vacuum cleaner. Temptation is all well and good, but courage is something else. As if sensing my strong desire, Lea jumps off my lap and waltzes to the door. Usually, she’d just jump out the window or leave when Sophia comes around, but now she sits at the door and looks back at me. Well then…if Lea wants to be let out, who am I to say no? I’ve probably been staring at the door since I woke up, however it’s only now that I truly find the courage to see what’s on the other side, even to find a way to escape. I mean, seriously, what am I doing here?
After Antonio left the way he did, I felt so discouraged by my obviously sick fantasies of having him take my V-card that I didn’t even get up from the bed. Instead, I laid there with the notion that my excitement toward being taken by a man who’s nothing more than a thug must be the result of some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder. Even before they came for my father, I was aware that my imagination when touching myself always veered to a narrative where the man controlled the bedroom. And I guess in many ways, on a subconscious level, I may well just be reacting to the stresses of my childhood. Until Antonio came and exposed my father, I didn’t have a point of reference for how I felt. Yeah, that may well be the root of my issues, but it doesn’t do much in the way of dampening that desire, however misplaced it might be.
“Fuck it,” I say to myself, scowling. “Get out of here while you can.”
So, that’s what I plan to do. I’ve put on the same jeans I came here with but swapped my t-shirt with a sweatshirt from the clothes Sophia gave me. Even if it looks like something you work out in, the tag still reads Gucci. On my feet, I’m wearing nothing but my socks, holding my pair of sneakers in my hands. I don’t want to make a sound as I open the door. It’s so quiet that the low squeak from the door hinge echoes out and down the hallway. I peek my head out, waiting to see one of those square-jawed goons guarding the halls, but all seems still. Lea jogs out into the hallway, light on her feet and looking back at me. I pause, thinking about waiting here for an extra 10 minutes, just in case, but the adrenaline pushes me forward. With slow steps, I tiptoe the distance to the landing while Lea practically shows me the way. My heart is pounding now. I’m not even sure what the reaction will be should I get caught. Truly, it should be something to consider. There’s no way of determining what orders Antonio left to his men. It’s almost absurd that I have to remind myself that the actions of capturing a girl as some kind of down payment are not the usual methods of timid men, that the threat of danger is very real.
It’s only when my head peeks over the railings, above the stairs, that I first see movement. More so, it’s Sophia who starts to take the other side of the double stairway with a tray in her hand. I lower myself to not be seen, but she doesn’t even look back as she enters the hallway on the opposite wing of the house. Watching closely, I wait until she takes the tray into a room at the far end. Momentarily, I wonder who else she’s taking food to. Are there other girls here? Am I not the only one Antonio visits at night?
Knowing what my chances are of being seen when she comes back, I dart down the stairs, and when I’m reaching distance from the front door, I hear voices approaching, so I duck into the nearest door I find, which just happens to be a coat closet. I close the door. The smell of stale cigarettes and musk fill my nose, and the voices I heard coming toward me must have stopped near the closest because I can hear every bit of their conversation.
“You can’t keep running off like this,” a man says, “if your father found out—”
“My father,” a girl’s voice replies. “My father is a man who’s unable to move forward with the times. You can’t expect me to agree to his absurd rules.” It must be that teenage girl, the one I figured to be Antonio’s sister.
“Your father is sick, and likely to slit my throat if he found that not only did I know that you were sneaking off with some guy, that I let you do it. Do you understand that? How dangerous it is?”
I hear her sigh. “And I appreciate that you’ve kept it to yourself, but I don’t know what else to do?”
“Have you spoken to Antonio?”
“My brother? He’s just the same as our father. You see, he does whatever he wants. I mean, what the fuck? He brings back this girl as a hostage, who’s clearly driving him crazy for some strange reason, and we’re all supposed to go along with it. But God forbid I choose who I want to spend my time with, no, that’s not okay for me!”
So she is his sister. And I’m the hostage girl who’s driving him crazy? Why? He’s the one who walked out of the room. He could have taken everything he wanted from me, but he chose not to. So here I am, taking matters into my own hands.
“Come on, Fiona, don’t make it so hard. Your father’s sick upstairs and doesn’t have much time left. At least try to make life here a little easier while he’s still alive. Nothing good is going to happen if we have to keep roaming around the city trying to find you.”
My ears piqued at the mention of her sick father not having a lot of time left. Maybe he’s the one in the other wing of the house, in the room I saw Sophia heading to just now. He must be the head of the family if everything Anotnio said to my dad is correct.
“Jesus! Okay. I won’t run off anymore, okay?! Fuck, do you know how depressing it is to have someone constantly following you, watching you?”
The man and woman walk off. I wait a minute until their footsteps disappear. Slowly, I exit the closet, and I stand there for a moment, listening. Seeing my opening, I head straight for the front door. I look around before opening it, and I can’t help but question how it went from having a guard outside my room, to apparently no one giving a fuck if I leave or not. I open the door, look out onto the empty courtyard, and notice guards, but out in the distance. I could run off into the trees and hide if I wanted without being caught. Escaping this house would rid me of Antonio and my father’s lies, and would allow me to start again. Lea is already sitting out in the courtyard, watching me patiently. One foot manages to step outside, yet, as if the rest of my body refuses, I stay put. I look back at the empty stairs, to the entrance to the house, and then finally step out. I inhale the fresh air, wondering what the fuck to do next.