ARIA’S POV
The divorce papers, a symbol of my freedom from Matteo, were clutched in my hand. I flung them towards Dennis, who sat comfortably on a chair outside his humble abode, legs crossed as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
The calmness in his demeanor only served to emphasize the turmoil that brewed within my heart, a turmoil that threatened to consume me. Dennis’ smile faltered as he retrieved the divorce papers from his chest, the once carefree expression replaced with furrowed brows
“Why-“. He started, but I didn’t let him finish.
“I won’t sign that”. I said, and I could still feel the anger coursing through my veins.
He sighed, picked up his cup of coffee, and took a large sip from it.
“You both are a pain in the ass”. He uttered.
“What was that?”. I asked, looking at the Dennis I didn’t know existed.
“You won’t let me have you, so I sent him a divorce, but I got it back untouched. Seems he wants you back after-all”. He forced a small smile.
I looked at him. My gaze unwavering and my eyes never left his.
“Just imagine how much hurt you’ll get when he finds you. You’d be better off dead”. He said
“You can’t say that”
“I mean, you run off with your ex, and you expect him to wait for you with open arms? And maybe throw a feast then kiss you?”. He asked while looking up at me from his chair.
Dennis squinted in the blinding sunlight, a huge difference to the cool night that had just passed. It was as if the world itself was mocking the twists and turns my life had taken in such a short time.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Aria”. He’ll have me arrested, and you, he might do even worse things”. He rose and closed the gap between us in two long strides.
Dennis, though a tall man, stood shorter than Matteo, and his frame was leaner, lacking the muscularity that defined Matteo’s physique.
“Matteo won’t”. I said, already scared at the outcome of my stupidity.
“For fucks sake, Aria. He’s searching for you everywhere. That’s why we haven’t left. It’s been a week! Sign this and let him know he’s lost to me”. He sounded frustrated.
“That won’t solve anything”.
“The man’s a strange man and your charms might work on him, just the way they worked on me”. He smirked, grabbed the back of my head, and kissed me, but I didn’t respond to the kiss.
Dennis’ kiss was as bitter and dark as black coffee, his tongue diving deep into my mouth. I retaliated with a sharp nip at his lip, feeling the satisfaction of causing him pain. He pulled away with a grimace, his fingers tracing over his lip to see if I had drawn blood.
“You’re such a bitch sometimes”. He said through clenched teeth. Pulling my hair in his hand, I was dragged to the couch in his homely living room.
My pleas went unanswered as he peeled away layer after layer of my clothing, revealing my vulnerable form for his leering eyes to devour.
I writhed and thrashed in vain, attempting to break free from his vice-like hold, but my efforts were in vain, my protests drowned out by the sound of my own sobs.
As Dennis fought with his belt, his laughter was cut short by the crack of a gunshot, the sound of death reverberating through the air.
The life drained from Dennis’ body, and he slumped onto me, his weight completely on me. With a newfound strength born of desperation, I pushed his corpse aside, the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I fled to the safety of my room, shutting the door behind me with trembling hands.
My body was trembling as I searched for something to put on as quickly as I could find. Dennis had been shot, and the shooter was out for me next. Settling for a shirt and a pair of jeans, I crawled underneath my bed and hid there.
As the door creaked open, the sound of heavy boots echoed through the room, and the thud of each step sounded like a death to me. The memory of that night long ago flooded my mind like a tidal wave, the horrific image of my mother’s murderer searing itself into my consciousness.
The boots, so familiar and yet so terrifying, seemed to be a manifestation of the nightmares that had long haunted me, the dread of that fateful night seeping into the present as I cowered beneath my bed.
My body shuddered with each suppressed sob, my whimpers muffled by the palm against my mouth. The man’s steps grew close,
and terror filled my entire being.
As he halted mere inches from my hiding place, a strangled cry escaped my lips, my hand unable to contain the rush of fear that flooded my veins. Without warning, he crumpled to the ground, his lifeless form splayed on the floor, the light in his eyes extinguished by a single, fatal shot.
A stranger stepped into my line of sight, a smoking gun in their hand in his hand. Frozen in place, my mind struggled to comprehend this new turn of events, the savior before me as confusing as the assassin he had just slain. And I saw it was a man in cops uniform.
He didn’t know I was hiding underneath the bed because he walked out of the room, but as soon as I thought I was free, he ran back in and pulled me from underneath the bed. I knew the cops worked for Matteo, and so I screamed and hauled as he pulled me along.
The man wore the guise of a policeman, the sharp contours of his face punctuated by a menacing scar. With each struggle, his grip on my arm tightened and as I kept on with the fight against his hold, the butt of his gun slammed into my temple, my vision splintering like shattered glass as the world around me faded into a blur of pain and darkness.
With the little consciousness I had left, I struggled in his hold but it didn’t get me freed and I knew there and then, I was fucked.