30
Karina
I say nothing, force myself to eat a few bites of dinner, and then climb under the covers without a word.
There’s nothing Aurielo can say that can fix what happened.
He brutally beat a man.
While I don’t know why, I suspect it had to do with what happened yesterday.
An eye for an eye doesn’t get anyone anywhere. Aurielo and his men aren’t above that type of behavior.
It’d be a lie if I said I wasn’t terrified of the Bianchi family and the threat they made on my son and myself. But being in the Rinaldi home doesn’t seem any better.
I have to get out before it’s too late.
I lie in bed. The sun hasn’t even risen from the horizon yet, but I can’t sleep. I do my best not to toss and turn. I don’t want to wake the savage that’s sound asleep beside me.
Is there still a guard posted outside the bedroom door?
I’m tempted to tiptoe across the room, sneak to the door, and pry it open. But what would I even do? Escape with Ashton in the middle of the night to where exactly?
Ashton isn’t a baby. It’s harder to escape with a curious five-year-old than a sleeping infant. Not to mention carrying him isn’t my first choice.
I need a plan.
The clock ticks by, and each second it matches my pulse. I expect the clock to beat faster as my fear grips me from the inside out.
I have to make Aurielo believe that I’m not afraid of him.
He needs to feel that he can trust me and grant me freedom, and when he does, I’ll take the opportunity and run with Ashton.
But I’ll need help.
I can’t return to my apartment. That’s the first place that Aurielo will come looking for me. I could ask Jocelyn for help, but Aurielo isn’t stupid. He’ll interrogate anyone that I worked with or I’m friends with, and I don’t want him treating Jocelyn like he did that man in the basement.
Even if the Bianchi’s are monsters, that doesn’t mean Aurielo needs to be one. There has to be another way to get what he wants without involving torture.
* * *
Work is somber.
There’s a heaviness that extends amongst the staff after Cora’s death.
I glance in at Cora’s empty room. Her belongings were cleaned out and taken home by her parents. The pictures on the walls that she drew have been removed. It’s stark and empty. It smells of antiseptic.
Another patient hasn’t taken over the room yet.
But they will, and all I can hope is that their outcome is better.
Happier.
I sneak off during a break and grab the burner phone that my sister gave me.
She picks up on the first ring.
“Where are you? Is everything okay?” Ivy asks.