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I don’t know when, but at some point, she has to have known. She’s a smart woman. She has spent years prosecuting men like this.
And yet, she has chosen to stay with him. To call this place home. To ruin my life.
I groan. The betrayal feels overwhelming.
I can’t lie here any longer.
A shower seems like the best option.
Washing the stress from my body sounds nice and it’s a step forward.
A baby step – but a step all the same.
Determined, I make my way into the bathroom. The tile floor in the bathroom is heated. I wiggle my toes as I wait for the steam to swirl warmth into the room before slipping out of my clothes and into the water.
There are some elements of luxury that I could get used to pretty dang easily, and this bathroom is one of them.
Before I moved in, I found it hard to believe that people really live like this. But here we are.
I breathe in the sweet-smelling shampoo. Leave it to Nico and Enzo to have nicer beauty products than I do. Now, who’s the princess?
I try to empty myself of thoughts, letting the water beat against my shoulders. The tension eases slowly, unraveling slightly with every minute the water burns my skin.
Maybe I can’t become a lawyer. Maybe I don’t even want to become a lawyer. What will that do for me? Allow me to end up like my mother?
No, thank you.
I can still do something with my life. Something that matters.
I think for a minute, rinsing the shampoo from my skin. What would I do if money wasn’t an issue?
The answer comes to me almost immediately: I’d help women who have been abused. Who need a fresh start.
By helping these women, it’s an opportunity to cleanse some of this blood money and corruption that surrounds me.
Maybe that would make this luxury a bit more palatable.
I can’t deny that there are some benefits. Safety, the situation with Matt.
I know they are fucking him up right now. I should feel bad or maybe even angry, but mostly I feel relief.
They are protecting me and seeking vengeance on my behalf. It’s violent and oddly sweet at the same time.
How many times do the Matts of the world actually face consequences for treating women like shit? How many times are they forced to endure the same kind of pain and suffering that they force on others?
I remember the anger the first time he cheated on me. The first night he put his hands on me.
Would it really be so bad if they took care of him?
I never could find articles tying them to murder. Maybe the things I know about the Mafia are myths. Maybe taking care of someone means blackmail and a blackeye. Maybe I have it all wrong.
But surely there’s something I can do, something legal, to help the women who aren’t as lucky as I am.
I hear the door push open and I freeze, covering my body with my arms. I expect it to be my mom, home from work early, trying to see where I am.
But the sound isn’t right. I turn slowly.
In the doorway is Nico, his stare glued to my body. My naked body.
