VEDA
I barely held it together as I watched Luca walk out of the funeral home, Enzo and Tristan on his heels. As soon as he was gone, I made my way through the crowd of mourners, most of whom never even knew my sister but were only there for a photo op with a famous person. Even a dead one.
I was shaking, and tears I couldn't contain leaked from my eyes to trail down my cheeks. I guess if you're going to cry in public, a memorial for your twin sister is the place to do it. No one questioned me about my tears, or for avoiding them as I rushed past. They just looked on with similar expressions of pity.
When I reached the bathroom, I slammed my palms into the door to open it and rushed inside. In the center of the room I stopped, then spun around to look at the door again. I didn't know where to go or what to do. I just knew I couldn't be near other people right now.
Sammy followed me in, closing the door and locking it behind her. She leaned her back against it, stuffed her hands in the pockets of her dress slacks, and eyed me. One eyebrow went up. "I take it that was the guy you've been fucking these past few weeks."
I nodded as a sob erupted from my throat before I could stop it. Slapping my hand over my mouth, I took a few deep breaths through my nose. There was no way I could describe to her that being with Luca was so much more than just "fucking." It wasn't even love. It was intense. Consuming. And terrifying. And it twisted me up inside until I couldn't decide if I wanted to stab him in his sleep or chain myself to him so he'd never be able to leave me.
So many emotions crowded inside of me I couldn't differentiate between them. They shoved and pushed and ripped and expanded until I felt like I was about to explode, but I was afraid if I let it happen, I'd break apart into so many pieces I'd never be able to fit them all back together again. So I stood there, staring at my best friend with one hand holding in my screams and the other pressed against my stomach in an effort to hold myself together.
Sammy didn't try to come any closer to me. She'd been my friend long enough to know how fragile I was right now. She didn't ask me about Mario, and I could only assume she hadn't seen him take me out into the lobby. Thank god. Because I didn't think I'd be able to keep it together if she asked me who he was, or if she'd overheard anything he'd said. Especially if she'd overheard anything he said.
"What was he doing here?" she asked.
My hand still over my mouth, I shook my head. I honestly didn't know.
"What did he say?"
I stared at my friend, borrowing from her calm strength until I thought I could speak. Carefully, I lowered the hand that was covering my mouth and placed it on my stomach with my other one. "He said he came to pay his respects."
"Yeah, I heard that part. What did he say before that?"
"Nothing," I said, and the lie was sour on my tongue. "You came in right after he did."
She didn't believe me. I could tell she didn't. But she let it go. "What do you need from me?" she quietly asked.
I tried for a smile and failed. "Just... just stay here with me until I can go back out there."
"You got it." Adjusting her stance into a more comfortable position, she glanced around the bathroom. "Good god, this place is gaudy."
I looked around. She was right. It was all white and black marble, with veins of gold. The floor, the sink, the panels on the walls. And not to be outdone, the faucet and even the handle on the toilet were bright gold. "Yeah, it is." But Sammy wasn't looking at the decor anymore. She was looking at me. "I have to get away from him," I whispered.
"Yeah," she said. "I think you do."
Tears filled my eyes and escaped to run down my cheeks and my voice was barely audible when I confessed, "It hurts, Sammy."
She closed the space between us and wrapped her arms around me. "I know, V. I know."
Gradually, I felt the tightness in my chest began to relax. But we stayed in there, making idle comments about the funeral home, the people, and any other nonsense we could think of, until someone knocked on the door.
"You okay?" Sammy asked me.
I took a breath. Nodded. "I think so." As I walked over to the sink to rinse my face, she yelled that we'd be out in a minute. Then she reached out her hand and I took it. She squeezed tight, and together, we went back out to face my parents.
FOUR DAYS LATER, I was with Sammy in her bedroom. She watched me from the bed as I closed the suitcase she'd given me the day before. I'd spent the time since Nicole's memorial saying goodbye to my parents, closing my bank account, and trying my damndest not to think about why I was leaving. Because every time I did, that twisty ball of emotions I'd shoved down inside of me with nothing but sheer force of will would threaten to overflow, and I'd have to hurry and distract myself before I ended up on the floor on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
I'd swapped out my cell phone again and given my dad my new number, but made sure he understood he was only to call for life or death emergencies. Otherwise, I would contact them when I felt it was safe for all of us. I also gave it to Sammy with the same instructions, and told them both they were not to give it to anyone else, no matter what.
"Are you sure you don't just wanna go to the cops?" Sammy leaned forward away from the headboard and wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees, her expression tense with worry. "I don't want you to go, V."
"It's not safe for me to stay here any longer," I told her. "They'll find me eventually, and when that happens, they'll find you, too." I looked up to see her staring off toward the wall. I sighed. "It's just until things calm down and I'm forgotten about."
She huffed out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. "The way that man was looking at you at the memorial? He's not gonna be forgetting about you anytime soon. If ever. And I think you're stupid if you think otherwise. That dude is completely obsessed with you, Veda. Honestly, the vibes I get from him are a little bit scary. And not completely because of what he does for a living."
Leave it to Sammy to say things exactly the way she sees them. "I think you're exaggerating."
"No," she told me in all seriousness. "I don't think I am. And it scares me."
I heard the weight in her tone and stopped looking around for anything I might have forgotten to pack. Her mouth was pressed together, and there were tight lines of worry around her eyes. "He'll forget me when I'm gone," I assured her. "The game is over. And the next one will have different players and he won't even remember my name."
"I don't think so," she argued. "I don't know who that guy is, because you won't tell me,"-she raised that eyebrow again-"but he looks like a man who likes to win. And I don't see him giving up that easily."
"I'm not a prize, Sammy. I'm a person."
"I'd bet my left tit you're his prize. The only one he wants."