Freedom
POV: Elena
"How?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"Paola Ricci is a great friend of ours," Vicente says calmly.
That old snitch.
"When exactly did you get here?" The frustration is evident in my tone.
Leonardo smiles and rest the elbows on my knees to get closer.
"We have contacts and we managed to stop the train before it reached the next city," he boasts and that only irritates me more.
"We had a deal," I say with hatred.
He laughs at me and leans back in his seat.
"That was before you stole my motorcycle," his tone is sharp and dark.
I smile at him and lean in to whisper.
"Maybe I should have abandoned it in a scrapyard," I teases and his eyes burn with anger.
He raises his hand to run his hair through it and I flinch and instinctively pull away. Too fast to be casual.
For a few seconds my mask wavers and my fear takes over. I take a deep breath and remember where and who I am with.
They are not trustworthy.
I put my emotions in place and put my mask back on.
I look ahead with my usual expressionless face, but I see Vicente looking at me with concern and understanding. In the few seconds that my mask has fallen, he has learned more information than he imagined.
Leonardo looks at me in shock and then in anger.
"Let's get off at the next town," Lorenzo says as he uses his phone. "We have a car waiting for us there."
I let out a sigh and cross my arms.
"I don't want to go back to that house," I say quietly as I look out the window at the sunrise.
"Was it just because of a punishment?" Lorenzo asks harshly.
"No, Lorenzo, that place is not my home, you are not my family," I say quickly.
"And Eloisa?" Vicente asks taking advantage of my anger.
"She has the life she always wanted and I'm going to mess it up," I repeat what I've heard my whole life. At a certain point, it becomes true.
"Elena, even if you don't want it, this is your life now," Lorenzo says and my blood boils. I have to take a deep breath to keep from yelling at him.
"That's the problem, brother, I never get what I want," I tell him coldly. "I've never had a say in my life's choices, so forgive me if I try to grab any chance of freedom."
He looks at me as if he's seeing me for the first time. His gaze examines every ounce of emotion I'm letting out and I have to look away so he doesn't see more than necessary.
We're silent for the rest of the drive.
When we disembark, Vicente offers to carry my backpack, but I refuse out of pride and fear that he will pay for what little I have left.
An SUV is waiting for us outside to take us home.
The journey back is long and soon I am leaning on Vicente's shoulder to fall asleep again.
"You sleep too much," Leonardo complains.
"Mind your own business," I whisper, almost asleep.
The car is silent for a few seconds until Vicente speaks.
"C'è qualcosa che non va in lei" his Italian is perfect, but the fact that they noticed bothers me. (There is something wrong with her)
"Eloisa ci ha detto che ha un carattere irascibile, ma niente che non si possa risolvere" Lorenzo says with disinterest. (Eloisa told us that she has a temper, but nothing that can't be fixed).
"Forse sta solo cercando di attirare l'attenzione." Leonardo huffs in irritation. (Maybe she's just trying to get attention.)
Do they think I'm a spoiled brat?
I shift on Vicente's shoulder to adjust my sore neck and they stay silent. Vicente gently holds my head and adjusts it so that I'm resting on his chest.
"Potresti avere ragione, ma c'è qualcosa che non ci dice e voglio scoprirlo" Vicente says quietly and decisively. (You may be right, but there's something she's not telling us and I'm going to find out.)
I have to stay as far away from him as possible.
I wake up with agonizing pain in my cut shoulder. I open my eyes to find Eloisa with her hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming and her nails digging into my wound.
"This is to teach you not to draw attention to yourself," she whispers. "Understand that no matter how much they want you, this is not your place."
She digs her nails deeper and then releases me.
"Get out," I say, sitting up in bed, but she doesn't move. "I told you to get out," I yell angrily this time.
"Take care of it, I don't want them to worry about you," she says, laughing, and finally leaves my room.
I quickly get out of bed to assess the wound, which is now bleeding again and I'm sure this time I need stitches or it won't close.
Perfect, it couldn't get any worse.
I open the cabinets looking for an emergency kit, but I find nothing. Are these men rich and don't have a first aid kit?
I cut up an old shirt I have and use the fabric to make a bandage. It will have to do until I find something to make a decent bandage.
I sit on the bed and apply pressure to the wound until the bleeding stops.
When I'm sure everything is under control, I put on a sweatshirt to hide the bandage over my shoulders.
I walk around my room bored and take in the surroundings, I realize that I no longer have the key to my bedroom door and that my window now has a piece that prevents it from opening completely.
I laugh at their attempt to deprive me of my freedom and that they thought that would be enough to stop me from running away. They don't know me.
I look at the clock and it's already lunch time, my stomach hurts from hunger since the last thing I ate was ice cream.
I assume I'm still being punished, so I wait for the maid to bring my lunch here, but she never comes. Are they going to punish me without food?
I've gone days without eating and I can handle it. I don't know why I thought it would be different here, that my brothers could be different from my parents.
Elena, this is what family does. Don't get your hopes up about them.
When it's clear that they're not going to bring me food, I sit down at my desk and grab a sketchbook that's with other school supplies.
I love drawing; it's become an escape from reality for me and a way to express things that no one can see that are going on inside me.
I don't know how much time passes, but when I finish and come back to reality, I hear breathing behind me.
"You have great talent, but what does that mean?" Vicente says, looking at the drawing, and I quickly close the notebook.
"Have you ever thought about knocking before you come in?" I ask irritably, crossing my arms as I look at him.
"I knocked, but you didn't listen," he says, and looks back at the sketchbook. "Then what does it mean?" he insists.
"None of your business," I reply angrily and stand up. "What do you want?"
I grab my notebook and put it in the dresser drawer while he watches me like a hawk. He annoys me.
"I came to pick you up so we can talk in the office." Every word that comes out of his mouth is calculated. He knows very well what happened the last time I was in the office.
"I'll be there in five minutes," I say, but he doesn't move. "I know the way." My voice is rough.
He smiles and sits on my bed.
"I'm not in a hurry, Sorella." His tone is full of sarcasm, and it only makes me angrier.
I go to the bathroom and comb my hair carefully. My scalp hurts since my outbreak yesterday'.
I spend exactly five minutes in the bathroom and, when I'm ready, I walk to the door without waiting for Vicente to follow me.
We'll see how it goes.