pain and numbness

FRANCESCA

MY SCREAM RIPS through the air as he pulls the trigger, and then a chilling silence takes over.

I’m so paralyzed with fear that it almost hurts, even though there’s no wound. I slowly open my eyes and look down. There’s nothing. No blood. No scratches. Nothing.

I touch my stomach to double-check. Tears start to fill my eyes. “Y-you…?” I can’t even bring myself to look at him.

“It was a test,” he says slowly, as if he’s trying not to scare me. “The gun was never even loaded.”

~What?~

“A test? A bloody test!” My eyes snap to his in fury. I can’t take it anymore. All my attempts to calm him down were pointless, because he knew what he was going to do. He knew it all along.

He looks back at me very calmly. “It was necessary.”

“No!” I yell. “No, it was not!”

“~Bambola~, th—”

I cut him off. “Don’t ~bambola~ me, Antonio, or should I say Ace—the mighty Don! I’m your goddamn wife! I deserve some respect! I don’t deserve this!”

He licks his lips as he sighs. He tucks the gun behind him and walks toward me, but I instantly step back.

“Stay away from me! I can’t deal with this now. I can’t deal with you! I-I can’t. Not anymore.”

Soft whimpers escape my lips as he moves closer. I back away until I’m touching the hood of his car.

He pulls me toward him but I resist, trying to push him away when he wraps his arms around me. I don’t want him near. I don’t want his warmth anymore. Not right now. Not so soon.

“~Bambola~, this had to be done,” he whispers in my ear. I might have even fallen for it if I didn’t know better.

“No. You did it just to get back at me,” I accuse as I hit his chest frantically. He lets me do it. “Let me go!”

But he doesn’t let me go. It just shows me how much more power he has.

He grips my arms tightly before turning me around swiftly and placing a hand on my throat. He grabs my wrists with one hand to stop my frantic movements.

His grip isn’t tight, but it’s enough to have me lean against him. “I don’t care for or like petty things, Francesca. You know me better than that.”

But do I really?

I freeze. Tears stream down my cheeks as I stare forward at the clear roads that look so vast and free. I want that freedom more than anything right now. I want to disappear.

“I was falling for you,” I finally whisper.

He freezes. His grip loosens and I slowly turn around.

“I was falling for you, Antonio!” I yell and push him back. My voice comes out shrill and chaotic. The rapid thudding in my heart doesn’t stop.

He stumbles back in surprise.

“And you just had to ruin it all with your insecurities and your paranoias,” I hiss, pushing him back even further, wanting him as aggravated as I am, even when I no longer have the energy to fight him.

“I was never disloyal to you even when I knew what you could be, and you want to know why?”

He doesn’t answer. He just watches me, a serious and confused expression on his face.

“Because I wanted something with you, and you gave me unnecessary hope. You played me like a puppet and I stupidly let you.”

I wipe my tears with the back of my hand as another sob escapes my body. “I want to go home, Don.”

He doesn’t say anything and I don’t wait for him to as I walk around and sit in the passenger seat. It feels like hours before he gets in the car and starts driving.

There’s an awkward silence in the air that I make no move to fix. Nothing can fix this. This will always be a broken relationship.

There’s no family. There’s no love. Everything is just so cold, just like his heart.

I stare out the window. I won’t cry. No. Not in front of this man. My throat feels tight but I’m stronger than this. I won’t give him the pleasure of seeing me so broken down and defeated.

When we reach the mansion, I immediately get out of the car and run inside. I don’t care if someone sees me right now. I’m in no mood for small talk. I’d scratch their eyes out if they said anything.

I pass by ~Nonna~ who’s sitting on the couch with her afternoon women. I don’t bother to greet her. I’m in no mood. My tears are still fresh and I’m not going to appear weak.

If I can’t find love in my relationship then I need to make myself stronger on the outside.

I lock the bathroom door behind me and lean against it. It’s hard to hold back my whimpers and tears. I step into the shower.

~It was all a game.~

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!” the words keep spilling out as I slide down the wall.

And then the dam breaks. A sob escapes me and my body shakes as it becomes more difficult to breathe.

~In. Out. In. Out.~

It’s not working. Why isn’t it working? Why can’t I control my breath?

~No, no, no. I’m dreaming.~

My body is on autopilot. I don’t know what I’m doing. The throbbing in my lungs makes me realize that I’m on the verge of passing out.

It’s a weird way to harm myself, but I want some relief. I need to know this is a dream. I hope it is. I really do.

~You may be pregnant~, a voice in my head yells, and I instantly release my breath.

~In. Out. In. Out.~

But it just makes things worse. The tears trail down my skin and my body trembles. Is it because of the cold or him?

~“Do you think this could work?”~ His voice rings in my head.

“Get out of my head!” I yell, my voice echoing off the walls. “Just leave me alone! Get out of my head!”

~“I’m sorry, ~bambola~,”~ he’d said. But did he mean it? Was there any sincerity in his voice?

A choked sob escapes me as I realize what he was really saying. I’d been so naive, thinking he was talking about us.

He’d even said it was about us. But how could I have believed him? He was nothing but a liar!

Or maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe he actually cared about you.

~No. No. No. Not again.~

He was playing me. He was always playing me. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have done this. He would’ve cared about us.

There were other ways to test my loyalty. I was in his bed every night, for God’s sake. He could’ve at least shown me some respect.

I remember how he took me in the shower, how I walked in like I was desperate. Did he tell his friends about it? Was he laughing about it right now? Did he even care?

I don’t know and I’ll never know. I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of his games, his manipulation. He made me feel loved, wanted, and then tossed me aside like I was nothing.

He insulted me and he didn’t care. He didn’t come banging on the door, demanding I let him in. He didn’t do anything. But I expected him to, and deep down, I wanted him to.

I wanted him to say he was sorry. I wanted him to hold me. I wanted him to tell me everything was going to be okay. I wanted him to love me.

But he didn’t. He wasn’t there when I came out of the shower. He wasn’t there when I walked into the bedroom. But isn’t this how it was supposed to be? Isn’t this what I was raised to expect?

I should’ve known. I was just the woman who would give him children while he lived a lavish life with his mistresses.

But he’d told me differently. He said he was sorry. He told me.

But did I ever ask him if there was someone else? Did I ever ask him if I was more to him than just a woman waiting for him to come home?

My hands shake as I climb into bed. Everything reminds me of him. His scent. His touch. Everything. The pain in my heart intensifies. I feel betrayed.

My body shakes until I can’t control it anymore. My clothes cling to me. I didn’t bother to dry off. I didn’t need to.

He’s not coming back. He’s not mine. He was a trick—my downfall.

He gave me the illusion of choice, but in the end, it was always his decision. And now that the illusion is shattered, I can finally see clearly.