18. What's Dead May Never Die

18. What's Dead May Never Die
I awoke in the morning with my arms wrapped protectively around my stomach. Startled at the strange gesture, I ripped my arms away and jolted upright in bed. A few random images from my dream flashed behind my lids as I blinked rapidly. A frightened Nicolo, a baby that resembled the both of us. Now, here I was cradling my stomach like there was life in there to begin with.

I wasn't ready to be a mother, especially not under these circumstances. I pulled the sheets slowly away from my legs, and twisted on the bed, dangling my feet over the cool wooden floor.

"He better get that pill," I mumbled. My words fell away into the calming silence. I shook my head. "No."

I was not going to let myself get used to this place. This situation. This wasn't truly my home. Somewhere out there I had a family and a life still waiting for me. These pale white walls were merely a shell of a life that wasn't real. In here, I wasn't the Selena the world knew me as. I was this molded, hostage – one who seriously found comfort in the silence as she awoke in her imprisoning chambers.

Reality was becoming morphed for me. Something would have to change. I was worried the changes wouldn't workout in my favor.

Once I pressed my feet to the floor, I rose from the bed, and stretched my limbs. I was going to be on time today for breakfast. No punishment would be administered, which was something to look forward to, but from Nicolo's lack of attention, I'd think of the punishment as a reward. Anything to get him to focus on me, if even for a little more than a minute.

He was still punishing me for my lack of faith in him. It sounds strange in my head, I could only imagine how it would sound out loud.

"He's mad at me for not trusting him... my kidnapper," I snorted. Yup. Hilarious.

Almost as funny as the fact, I'm bothered by his anger. It just validated the emotions I kept trying to dispel. I squared my shoulders and held my head up high, before taking a deep breath.

"I'm not going to let him get to me. I'll do what he wants me to, and that's it. Nothing more for the sake of my emotions. I'm a prisoner. Not a lover in a fricken quarrel."

I knew if anyone could see me coaching myself they'd laugh. How pathetic, but I didn't let that keep me from jumping out of the bed, and hustling over to the bathroom.

"Yeah, I'll show him how much I don't care." I hissed, while peering at my face in the mirror. Large bags circled my eyes, like I'd been punched. Lack of sleep will do that to you. My hair was a frizzled mess, but nothing a hot shower couldn't fix.

I stripped off my nightgown and padded over to the shower, twisting the knob before holding my fingers under the jet of water. I would scrub my skin so hard, there would be no trace of him left. I wouldn't keep thinking of the reaction my body has when he touches me, or the way I quiver just under his gaze. No. All I'd focus on is the vicious scraping of my nails as I forced suds into my skin.

The water warmed almost immediately. I didn't waste time stepping under the showerhead. Steam climbed the walls of the shower around me, filling my lungs with hot air. I exhaled a deep breath, and gazed down at the bar of soap. It was withered and overused. A small little sliver of dove left.

That many painful washes, and I still hadn't rid myself of his scent, the familiarity of his fingers grazing my skin; Stinging me and caressing me in all the right places. Sighing, I began lathering my hands with the soap, working it deep into my fingers, before placing the bar back down and pressing my palms flat against my stomach.

For some unknown reason to me, I was gentle. I didn't dig my nails into my skin or vigorously scratch until skin shed off. I massaged the soap on me, beginning with the stomach that could be harboring an unwanted child.

"God, what the hell is wrong with me?" I snarled, and pressed myself sideways into the wall of the shower. "I don't want his baby. I don't want him. He means nothing to me."

Liar.

There was no use arguing with myself. I already knew the fallaciousness behind my words. I always would. I wondered if Nicolo knew too.



"Is there something you'd like to tell me," Nicolo questioned as I sauntered into the dining room. His eyes didn't lift from the newspaper but I could tell by his grip around those dull gray pages, he was annoyed. I halted quickly, a momentary brief of unbalanced movement practically sending me into the table. I swallowed the lump in my throat, and managed to pull my lips upward into what I thought was a convincing smile.

"L-like what?" Shit. Stuttering wasn't going to help convince him I was being truthful. He raised his gaze from the pages to look at me with haunting eyes. He narrowed his eyes and glanced down my body before leveling his gaze, once again, with my face.

He knows I'm lying.

"You tell me," His voice was clipped. He folded the newspaper and set it back down on the table. If he already knew about it, then I shouldn't bother lying.

"A-about?" I decided it's better to play dumb.

"Do you think you're pregnant?" He questioned sarcastically.

I opened my mouth to respond, but I didn't exactly know how to answer that question. It wasn't that I thought I was pregnant, so much, as I was worried that would be the outcome of a bunch of unprotected sex. I crossed my arms over my chest and bit my lip.

"You're not pregnant, Selena." He snipped. He furrowed his brows and took a deep breath.

"How do you know that?"

Who the hell was he to tell me if I was pregnant or not. He's not a doctor, and I'm sure he's not stupid. I tilted my head with confusion, and waited for him to elaborate.

He chuckled, amused by my own annoyance, and shook his head.

"I can't have children."

I inhaled a sharp breath and let my arms drop down to my sides.

"W-what do you mean?"

"I can't have children."

Four words that shouldn't affect me, make me choke on air gathering at the back of my throat.

He can't have children...

Won't have children?

No. I could tell by the sincerity and clipped tone, he meant it. Physically he's unable to father any children. That thought makes my heart sink into the pit of my stomach and threaten to come back up, in unattractive chunks. I bite my tongue, swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth, and wipe the sweat that's formed along my neck.

How would I respond? What should I say. He furrowed his brows.

Say anything, Selena, and most of all, don't act disappointed!

I had grown so accustomed to thought of being pregnant, I let myself get... excited?

I shook my head quickly, dispersing those thoughts, anything to help aid my own emotional delusion. Nicolo observed me through thick lashes.

"H-how?"

I didn't want to know the answer. Some demented form of family time that ended up in lifelong infertility. I anticipated his fucked up story, but he cleared his throat and remained quiet for a few moments longer.

"I was born this way." He replied, before I heard the familiar scrape of his chair against the floor, and his retreating footsteps. He walked briskly towards the kitchen.

"You can go back to your room. I'm not going to need you for today."

He waved his hand dismissively behind himself, before pushing through the kitchen door, leaving me in the dining room, blatantly upset.

"I-I'm not needed today..."

The tears were hot against my eyes, burning their way down my cheek, an annoying reminder of my pathetic inability to pretend I don't care what he thinks. I fiddled with my hands, contemplating what to do.

I felt like a lost puppy, one who's master just abandoned her on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere; one who just finally understands that she isn't cared for, and feels stupid because she should've known it all along.

My chest began to heave up and down rapidly as another emotion bubbled up inside of me.

Anger. Hot and raw. Pure anger filled me to the core. I saw black dots every time I blinked as I stomped towards the kitchen. As I burst through the door, Nicolo in mid-conversation with the cook, I set my blazing eyes on him, and roared.

"You don't need me!"

"Selena..." He warned, his eyes taking on that dangerous, animalike quality. I didn't care. Nothing was going to hold me back. He'd have to knock me out. I was too hurt.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" I boomed.

Nicolo cast a wordless glance at the cook, who then scurried out of the room like it was on fire. It might as well have been.

"Selena," He warned again.

"No!" I pointed my finger accusingly at him. "You're not going to just pretend I'm only the bitch you kidnapped. I'm more. This is more, and if you can't acknowledge that then kill me, or be done with me."

My words were heavy from the sobs distorting them. The truth wanted to be set free, but my lips couldn't move fast enough. I was afraid he wouldn't make out what I was saying.

"You know how I feel!" I bellowed. He shook his head, and cast his gaze to the floor.

"No."

The word came out quiet and defeated.

I quirked my brow confusingly, while trying to catch my breath from my outburst.

"No," he repeated. His jaw clenched and his fists tightened down at his sides.

"Yes," I replied, moving towards him. His whole body tensed, as I placed my hands on his arms, sliding my hands down to cup his fists.

"No."

"I love you." I admitted.

My heart thrummed loudly in my chest, poisoned by my profound anxiousness, and unable to calm.

"You don't." He responded, matter-of-factly.

"I do."

"You can't," He stated firmly, before ripping his fists away from me. He stepped back and glared at me.

"I told you, I don't need you today. I'm done with you. When I feel like having a quick fuck, I'll come by your room."

"You asshole," I spat. I raised my hand to smack him, but he caught my hand in mid-air, tightening his fingers around mine.

"I said go. Now."

"Or you'll do what..." I said daringly.

"Maybe you'll get your wish after all," He snarled, while shoving me away. I stumbled backwards a few steps, and gazed at him through blurry, tear-filled eyes. "I'll kill you."

His words were cold. There was no emotion in his eyes as he spoke them. I no longer felt like someone he could ever grow attached to, but just a nuisance. A fly he'd smash with a newspaper to get rid of.

I wrapped my arms around my waist, and spun on my heel, not sparing him another glance. What was the use? This man was the one he warned me of. The monster I was supposed to be afraid of.

"I should've listened," I whispered as I slipped back into the hallway, desperately crossing the floor to my bedroom.

Pain and agony threatened to consume me as I threw open my bedroom door. As I pushed it closed behind me, praying my troubles would stay locked outside, I was overwhelmed with the urge to mourn the relationship I never had.