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It's been two nights since I talked to my father and I still regret it. Why didn't I stand up to him? Why won't he tell me honestly who it is that would hurt me?
And I'm scared. The eerie way he talked about mysterious men who'd want to hurt me to get to him. It's creepy. I hate living in this state of terror. What is it like for normal girls who grow up without fear and follow their dreams without all these limitations?
The only light in my room comes from the fairy lights under my bed and a string of them I hide in the closet. I'd really likea forest of lights in here but my dad won't allow it. I think I'm going to end up turning the lamp on again because I'm just too terrified to sleep.
It's three in the morning and I need to rest so I can work on the parties tomorrow, but I just can't. Each time I close my eyes I see someone hovering over me who wants to hurt me.
Walking into my closet, the lights show me where to find Foster's jacket. I haven't slept in it for fear of my dad seeing it, but I'm desperate for comfort right now.
The fabric scratches my skin and fills my nose with the rugged scent of worn denim. The scent of Foster. The reminder of disappointment. Why couldn't he be who I thought he was? Why does everyone always turn out to be different from who I think they are? I just want someone who is honest with me. Ironic since I'm not truly myself with anyone either. People are complicated.
A scratch at my window draws a gasp from my throat. It could be a tree branch or it could be a person. It reminds me of Foster and how he came to my balcony at the house in the Hamptons.
My heart dances at the thought of him coming through my window. He was so calm and cool the way he inspected my room like he belonged there. We danced in my sunflower forest and my heart soared when he kissed me in my bed. Then he saw the bruises and stopped. We didn't have any privacy on our workouts. That's really why I want my own place so badly. I want a place where I can be alone with Foster.
But he's not coming back and that hurts. It's a bittersweet pain of what could've been. But Foster wasn't who he was pretending to be. He was lying to me. If someday I meet someone as awesome as who I thought Foster was, I want my own place so my relationship can develop without all the pressures of being a Bianchi. Let's be real. The chances of that happening are slim.
There's that scratch again. Would Foster really climb the fire escape here?
Opening the window and peering out, I don't see him. It's pure darkness. Hmm. I could swear I heard something.
As I'm pulling my head in and about to close the window, an arm punches through and grabs my neck. It forces my head down and I can't see who it is.
What do you do when your worst fear comes true? I'm not surprised someone is here for me. I've expected this every night of my life. My plan has always been to fight as hard as I can. Never give up. So I swing my arms to try and get his hand off my neck but he's pinching so hard, the pain disables me.
The pressure from his hand pushes my face deep into the mattress and muffles my scream.
"Shut up!"
I don't recognize the voice. It's a Brooklyn accent, but that doesn't tellme much.
I kick out with my feet and the pressure of his massive torso pins me to the bed.
"Need you to tell your brother something for me. Donnie did me wrong. Donnie needs to pay up or I'm going to rearrange his sister. Got it?"
I'm fighting so hard, I can barely hear him. I'm fighting with all my might. No! Foster's jacket is covering the skin on my back so my attacker's hands aren't touching me directly. It's my shield. The only weapon I have right now.
"Don't worry. I'm not gonna screw you. Not now. But if your stupid fuckup of a brother don't show up with my cash, I'm gonna have my fun with your pretty ass and you'll love it too."
He pushes off me with a grunt, and I have my first chance to see him.
Rocco.
His dad is so rich, he doesn't need the money. This is about power and pride. He doesn't want to look like he got taken by Donnie.
"Get out!" I shriek at him and point to the window with my trembling finger. "Get out!"
He sneers and walks to the window. "You got the message?"
"Loud and clear." How could I miss it? "Get out!"
The door bursts open and my dad is standing there with a gun. He points it at Rocco's head. Rocco's eyes bulge, and he looks like he's going to pee his pants.
"You hurt her? You little shit."
But Rocco is running to the window. He dives out on the fire escape and the metal clamors.
My dad runs to the window and shoots Rocco on the fire escape.
