37

[REBECCA]
As the first song came to an end, an irresistible impulse took hold of me, compelling me to continue playing. I couldn’t resist the pull, so I allowed my fingers to glide across the keys once more, producing the beautiful notes of one of my all-time favorite songs, “I Won’t Give Up.” It used to be a regular part of my daily repertoire.
As the familiar melody enveloped the room, I found myself being carried away by its enchanting embrace. My voice, barely audible, joined in, whispering the lyrics in perfect harmony. The sound was gentle, even to my own ears. With each note, my racing heart gradually settled into a soothing rhythm.
After a prolonged period of turmoil, an unexpected calm washed over me, accompanied by a peculiar sense of hopefulness. The piano had always been my sanctuary, a refuge that never failed to offer solace when life let me down. It bestowed upon me a tranquility I desperately sought, and I was grateful to experience that sensation once more.
The second song reached its conclusion, yet I felt compelled to play another, secretly hoping that Artemy, who was present but silent, wouldn’t interrupt me. Encouraged by his lack of objection, I proceeded to play my next choice: “A Thousand Years.”
As my fingers danced gracefully across the ivory keys, guiding the melody of the third song to its end, I gradually opened my eyes, only to find Artemy’s intense gaze locked onto mine. His eyes held a captivating intensity, as if lost deep in contemplation. Unwavering, his stare penetrated my being, leaving me feeling both peaceful and anxious at the same time.
My hands remained poised on the piano as we continued our silent exchange. The smile that had adorned my face slowly faded, replaced by a growing unease that permeated my entire being. The act of playing had shielded me from the outside world, allowing me to disregard everything else. But now, facing Artemy with his penetrating gaze, I couldn’t help but grow apprehensive.
Despite the intensity of his stare, there was an unfamiliar warmth emanating from his eyes, a quality I had never witnessed in him before. Yet, as he remained motionless and silent, I cleared my throat, abruptly shattering the stillness. At the sound, his eyes widened, and he averted his gaze, running his bloodstained fingers through his disheveled hair.
A pang of distress shot through me as I observed his wounded appearance. I rose from the piano and positioned myself in front of it, bringing me only a few feet away from Artemy. The details of his bruised face became painfully clear, causing me to wince in sympathy. His cheeks displayed a reddish hue, rapidly transforming into a faint shade of purple. A cut marred his eyebrow, and dried blood marked his lips.
“You should tend to your wounds to prevent them from getting infected,” I suggested, my voice laced with concern. Keeping my eyes fixed on him, I awaited his reaction.
However, he offered no response, opting instead to glare at the wall beside him, his jaw clenched tightly. As worry flooded my heart, it began to race once more. Perhaps I had exceeded my boundaries. Maybe I shouldn’t have played the piano. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been there at all. The realization weighed heavily upon me, filling me with regret.
As I nervously tugged at my dress, my lips trapped between my teeth, a chill ran through my hands. The tension in the air was palpable as Artemy’s voice growled, “I said leave!” Startled, my eyes widened, and I hurriedly moved away from the piano. Reaching the doorway, my steps faltered, and I hesitantly glanced back over my shoulder. Artemy stood there, clutching a brown glass bottle, his gaze fixed on it, while his other hand remained clenched in a tight fist. With a heavy heart and shoulders slumped in defeat, I reluctantly left the room.
Deep down, I knew Artemy wouldn’t tend to his wounds. He was too consumed by his own pain, and I understood the weight of his emotions. His suffering resonated with me, for I knew all too well what it meant to feel hopeless.
Entering my room, I switched on the lights and hurriedly searched through my drawer, finally finding the first aid kit. Holding it close to my chest, I let out a weary sigh. There was a part of me that hesitated to return to him, but I hoped that if I placed the first aid kit within his reach, he would take care of his wounds. Without further contemplation, I closed the drawer and hastened back out.
The door remained partially closed, just as I had left it. I caught myself chewing on my nails and forcibly lowered my hand. After a few hesitant moments outside, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I mustered the courage to push the door open.
Peeking inside, I saw Artemy still seated in the same spot. His head now rested against the plush couch, eyes closed. He held the empty brown bottle on his thigh, the remnants of its contents disappearing. It had been half-full when I left.
My heart twisted at the sight of him drowning his sorrows in alcohol.
Stepping forward, Artemy’s eyes snapped open, annoyance and frustration etched on his face as he stared at the ceiling, deliberately avoiding my gaze.
With trembling hands, I placed the first aid kit on the coffee table, then clasped my hands tightly in my skirt, attempting to conceal the nervousness simmering within me.
His gaze shifted toward the coffee table briefly before he closed his eyes, silently dismissing my presence.
Perhaps it was time for me to leave, I thought, observing Artemy’s emotionless countenance. Even in pain, he refused to show weakness.
To a man like him, emotions were synonymous with vulnerability. And in our world, vulnerability equaled danger. Our weaknesses would only bring us closer to our demise.
“Please clean your wounds,” I softly pleaded, casting one last glance at him before turning away.
As I closed the door behind me, I leaned against it and closed my eyes. After the moments I had shared with Artemy, no matter how awkward and unusual they had been, I dreaded returning to my room alone.
The nightmares filled me with fear, dreading the memories that would haunt me whenever I closed my eyes. The face of Raffaele, a constant presence in my mind, seemed to lurk in the shadows.
Moments of tranquility had become fleeting, overshadowed by the overwhelming pain that consumed me. As I approached my room, a sense of dread gripped me tightly.
Summoning all my courage, I shut my eyes and mustered the strength to open the door. I longed for a peaceful sleep, free from the haunting grasp of memories. Just as the thought crossed my mind, my eyes flew open, recalling the haunting scene that had unfolded in my room a few nights before.
However, surprisingly enough, I had managed to sleep soundly. It was Artemy’s jacket that had granted me respite from the nightmares.
With wide eyes, I turned my head to the left, in the direction of Artemy’s room, adjacent to the piano room. A glimmer of hope arose within me, thinking that if I had his jacket by my side, I could find solace in sleep once again. It may have seemed feeble, but all I desired was a peaceful slumber without fear, without the anguish that twisted my heart.
Determined, I made up my mind and stepped away from my room, making my way towards Artemy’s. Every step was deliberate, although slow. Upon finding the room empty, I cautiously entered, sliding the door shut behind me. The darkness enveloped the space, urging me to seek out the light switch. When I finally located it, the room was bathed in instant illumination.
Without wasting a moment, I ventured towards Artemy’s closet, where an array of tailored suits and dress shirts awaited. Most of the suits were of dark hues, reflecting his persona. It was difficult to envision Artemy clad in anything other than somber colors.
With my heart pounding in my chest, I plucked a black suit jacket from its hanger and cradled it against my chest. I carefully placed the empty hanger at the back of the closet, ensuring it remained unnoticed. Raising the jacket to my face, I buried myself in its soft fabric, inhaling deeply. The familiar scent of his cologne filled my senses, and gradually, the tension in my muscles began to ease, prompting a relieved sigh to escape my lips.
I couldn’t quite comprehend it. How could Artemy bring me such peace? Even amidst the ever-present fear, he somehow managed to calm the tumult within my heart.
Hastily exiting his room, clutching the jacket tightly, my gaze fixed upon it, I wandered mindlessly back to my own quarters. Sinking into my bed beneath the cozy comforter, I positioned the jacket next to my face on the pillow, holding onto it as if my life depended on it, fearing its theft.
My eyes grew heavy as sleep beckoned me. A tired yawn slipped from my lips, and I nestled deeper into the comforter’s embrace. The last image that lingered in my fading consciousness was Artemy’s suit jacket. As slumber claimed my body and mind, I silently prayed that the painful memories would not return.
As the first rays of sunlight filtered through my bedroom window, a warm glow filled the room, casting a fiery halo upon everything it touched. I roused myself from the comfort of my pillow, my cascading black hair resembling a flowing waterfall down my back.
The realization struck me: morning had arrived.
Yet, Raffaele had not made an appearance in my dreams. Hoping to capture a few more moments of slumber, I closed my eyes, basking in the gentle caress of the sun’s awakening beams. It wasn’t just the warmth on my skin that made me feel alive; there was a sense of fulfillment and relief within me. Perhaps even a hint of contentment.