“How did you get away from him?” he asks me, taking my hands as he crouches down in front of me.
I now look away to my stilettos that I had dropped on the floor. My white and black Jimmy Choos are a vast contrast from one another. While one is immaculate, the other is stained red. I look back and tearfully wait for my brother to look back at me. Once his head turns, I’m defeated by the whirlwind of emotion I’ve caused to course up through him. He looks so angry, incensed by my assault. Regardless that my prior intent was to kill a man, my mistreatment enrages Enzo.
“It was the only thing I could do, Enzo.” My voice sounds foreign to me. It’s stolen and replaced with this meek and mild victim. I guess until now I thought I was invincible, and Big Al has brought about my realization of my own morality. “He was so close to doing it,” I whimper. “I just saw my shoe and slammed it into his throat.”
“Quick thinking,” Enzo notes, putting his hand to my chin to force me to keep my head up while he checks out the bruising to my cheek and jaw and the cut on my lip and forehead. “Did he hurt you anywhere else?”
“Yeah,” I admit and drop my hand slightly to hug myself.
“Here,” Manuel comments, rushing back into the room with a pair of my yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt I stole from Zane back when we first dated.
“Let’s get you changed, but I’m sleeping outside your door to make sure you’re okay.” Enzo’s comment isn’t something to reckon with. He will be there with or without my permission. I can see there is more concern over me than he letting on, but he won’t smother me with it because he knows I will bolt. “Let’s get you changed and cleaned up.”
I nod and stand up, finally placing my bag down onto the table. My body feels like it’s on fire with tenderness, especially at my side, and I just feel completely helpless. “I need help,” I tell my brothers. I’m not ashamed for them to see me in my bra. Especially not right now, with my body screaming at every movement. “Can you just be ready with the top, please?” I ask feebly and hope that once Enzo’s cleaned me up I can take a bath and crawl into bed.
Enzo takes the oversized t-shirt from Manuel, and as I finally allow my blouse to part, I shrug it off. I look down, only to be confronted with purple and black bruises coloring my skin. I close my eyes and quickly put my hands up the best I can to allow Enzo to drop the shirt over me and cover my body. When it comes to removing my skirt, I feel a little more shy, considering my panties were torn. I look to Manuel and motion for him to turn around before I make quick work to lose my skirt and put my pants on. My body does protest, but being covered again gives me back a sense of safety and security.
“Maybe you need a hospital, Lia,” Manuel counters, his voice horrified at the sight of my skin.
“I am not going to a hospital.” My statement is said with such harshness, I know Manuel won’t argue with me. “I just want to clean myself up and go to bed.”
“Which we will let you do as soon as I’ve cleaned those cuts on your face,” Enzo states, not allowing me to disappear quite yet. “I’ll go and grab the first aid kit.”
Enzo disappears and Manuel moves to sit in the seat beside me. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look at him, and I don’t try to make conversation. I just stare forward, wondering how in the hell this could have happened.
In record speed, Enzo is back with the kit and places it on the table. These aren’t the first wounds he has had to clean, nor will they be the last. As he gets everything out and ready, he looks at me out of the corner of his eyes, and I just stare back, waiting for his numerous questions.
“Will you please let me teach you some self-defense now?” Enzo asks, dousing a piece of cotton ball with antiseptic liquid.
“I kneed him in the balls, doesn’t that count for something?” I ask meekly. I knew this would arise; he and Bruno have been encouraging me to learn self-defense for ears. But for the same amount of time, I’ve refused, believing I was far more superior to that. The look Enzo fixes me with amuses me, and I roll my eyes, much to the detestation of my facial muscles. “Fine, but when I’m not feeling so tender.”
“I’ll give you three weeks and then we are going to teach you intense self-defense. I’ll even let Giovanni be your first test dummy.” His comment forces me to laugh, but I abruptly stop. “I think we need to avoid the humor for the evening, eh?”
I nod graciously, and he begins to clean my battle wounds.
“What the hell?” Giovanni’s voice cuts through the room. “Who in the hell did you piss off?”
I look over just in time to see my father step into the room and take me in fully. His eyes widen and I know I can’t tell him the truth. How do I tell my darling father I was almost raped by his right-hand man, who secretly wanted to one up the Dio Lavoro and prove his worth in the mafia community? I can’t.