Merciless Vows by Faith Summers

29

Aria

Peter glances at me with those silver eyes as we walk along the riverside.

“I don’t want to go to Italy for the summer,” I say. “I’ll miss you too much.”

“I’ll miss you too. But I’ll be here when you get back. It won’t be any different to last summer or the ones before that.”

He turns around to face me, walking backward with a grin on his face. He looks even more handsome now that he’s thirteen. It was like he just changed overnight.

I’m not the only girl to notice that.

I saw the group of girls from music class watching him and checking him out.

That’s what will be different about this summer. He might not be my Peter anymore when I get back.

“Why are you worried, Wendy?” he calls me by my pet name when he’s teasing me. He chuckles, and the dimples in his left cheek become more pronounced.

“Nothing, Peter Pan.” I giggle, teasing him back.

“Then take my hand. The birds will be gone if we don’t hurry.”

I reach out to take his hand, but he fades from me, and I’m surrounded by darkness.

“Peter, where did you go?” I can’t see him anywhere. It’s too dark. “Peter.”

I don’t like this.

The monster lives in the darkness—that t man that hurt me.

Footsteps sound on the concrete floor. The floor… in my bedroom.

How did I get here?

I look at my hands in the dark, and they look smaller. When I lift my head, there are stuffed animals all around my room.

I don’t have those anymore; Mom gave them to charity. So why are they back here again?

The footsteps get louder until they become heavy thuds pounding in my ears.

Fear knots my insides when I know who’s coming.

It’s him.

The monster.

Fear in its purest form assails me, and my throat closes.

He’s here again.

Those footsteps in the dark belong to him. And that smell of smoke and trees.

A heavy hand suddenly rests on my stomach, and although my eyes widen, I can’t see his face.

“Hello, my little Kukla,” he says with an accented voice. I don’t know what accent that is, though.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I beg, and I sound like a child.

In the dark, his white teeth shine against a maddening smile.

“Remember now, this is our little secret. Tell your mother, and I will kill her. I will kill your father too. You don’t want to be responsible for killing your parents, do you, Kukla?”

“No.”

My throat closes when he gets on top of me, and tears stream down my cheeks.

He parts my legs, and suddenly he’s moving inside me.

I scream for him to stop when pain lances through my body. But he doesn’t.

“Stop!”

“Shut up,” he growls, securing his hands to my neck.

“Stop it! You're hurting me. Stop!”

“Aria,” calls a voice from far away. “Aria, wake up.”

Someone starts shaking me, and I jump out of my sleep, straight into Marylin’s arms.

She steadies me, her face etched in worry, which deepens when I look around the room frantically.

“Did you see him?” I choke out as tears flow from my eyes.

“See who, dear?”

“That man. He was just in here.”

“No, nobody’s in here. Just you.” She grabs a tissue and wipes my face.

I still look around, although I know she’s right and that it was just a nightmare—the same nightmare from the other day.

No… it felt too real.

I don’t think it was a nightmare. In fact… I’m sure it’s not.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I just had a bad dream.”

“Bad dreams can leave you shaken. I’ll go get you some water.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

She rushes away, and I run a hand through my hair.

Jesus, what’s happening to me?

Or maybe I should say what happened to me?

And where is Lucca? He didn’t come back last night. Clearly, he must still be in that mood. Is this how it’s going to be until the wedding?

I can’t get what he said about Dad out of my mind, and I don’t know what to make of it.

The next two days are the same. I don’t see Lucca at all, and that nightmare is stuck on repeat.

Friday afternoon comes, and I sit in Dr. Belmont’s office feeling like shit. I probably look like it, too, and he can tell the difference in me straightaway. Instead of that spark I had last week, I entered his office in a foul cloud of doom that I still can’t shake.

I’m also worried about the session today and what I’ll have to talk about.

“Hello, Aria, you look tired today. Have you been sleeping okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

“No, not so much.”

“Anything you want to talk about before we get started?”

With a shake of my head, I straighten up and try to focus. “I’m just keen to get started.”

“Okay. So last week, I gave you the rundown of what we’d be doing. Today I’d like to begin by talking about what those flashes of memories look like when you have them. And we’ll talk about your dreams too.”

Dreams.

Here we go. This is it.

I'm worried, but how will I get better if we don’t talk about the problems?  How will I find myself?

My desire to get back on my feet is stronger than any nightmare. I just have to hold on and push through.

“Sure.”

“Okay, when you get the flashes of memories, how do they leave you feeling? I know you’ll be tempted to say confused and perhaps frustrated because you’re trying to make sense of the images. But what I want you to think of is the first emotion that comes to you. Happiness, sadness, joy, or fear. Something like that.”

I try to concentrate, but I can’t think straight to remember how I’ve felt. “I don’t know. I know that sounds pretty useless, but I don’t think I feel anything.”

“Okay, that’s fine. That’s also an emotion. Nothingness. What about the dreams? Can you see anything clearer in those dreams you have?”

My breath hitches, but I gulp in air to clear my airway. “Yes. They are very clear. They’ve been getting clearer and feel real. Like memories. I don’t want them to be, though.”

A seriousness comes into his eyes. “Tell me what you dreamed about. This is where I’m going to have to exercise tough love with you. If you don’t tell me what’s in your head. I can’t help you.”

I nod and gear myself up to talk. Inhaling deeply, my lips part, and I bring my hands together. “It starts with me walking down by the river with a boy called Peter. He’s not real, though. I’m either ten years old or about to turn ten. He’s thirteen in the most recent dreams that have held the nightmare.”

“How do you know he’s not real?”

“I've been dreaming about him since I woke up from the coma. I spoke to my father about him, and he told me there was no one like that in my life when I was little. My cousins also confirmed it. Nobody knew of me playing with a boy called Peter, so I guess that part is the dream. The nightmare takes over when he’s just about to take my hand, and everything turns dark…” My voice trails off.

“What happens in the dark, Aria?”

“There’s a monster, and…” My throat closes, and my voice cuts again when I conjure up the dream.

Terror races over my skin, and I can’t breathe.

I can feel that man’s hands all over me, and I can feel him inside me doing... Oh, God. I can't do this.

I can’t bring myself to say anything else or even think it.

Bolting up out of the chair, I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I can’t do this today. Please don’t make me.”

“It’s okay.”

“I, I have to go.”

Before he can say another word, I rush out of the office and back to the waiting room where Marylin sits.

A tear runs down my cheek, and I dab it away with the heel of my hand before I reach her. She can see I’m not okay, though.

“Aria, what happened?” Marylin pushes to her feet.

“I just can’t do it today," I reply. "I’m sorry. Can we go home?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.”

“Come, let's go.” She offers me a warm smile and her arm, which I take because I don’t know if I can walk on my own.

We walk out of the office and climb back into the black Bugatti that escorted us here.

I can sense Marylin wants to ask me more about the appointment, but she holds back.

She keeps her silence for the whole journey back, even when catching glimpses of me dabbing my eyes from time to time. It’s not until we get to the house that she speaks as we look ahead and see a powerful-looking black motorcycle parked up on the driveway. It looks like it was pulled from the set of one of the newer Batman films.

“Lucca's home. He must be working from home today,” she mutters, looking over the motorcycle.

I’m not surprised Lucca rides one of those. It suits him. I can imagine him riding around without a helmet with that wild hair raging in the wind.

What surprises me is my reaction to hearing he’s home. I have the sudden urge to see him, even if it’s for him to scowl at me. It's like the part of me that feels safe when I'm with him needs to see him.

“Can I see him?” I ask.

“Of course you can. I’m sure he’s probably in his office. Do you remember the way up there?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“Alright, Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will.”

We get out of the car once the driver parks, and it’s like I can’t get out fast enough.

I rush away from Marylin and head up the stairs to Lucca’s office.

That night when I first came up here, I felt that eerie vibe. I put it down to his office being on the same side of the house where Marylin told me his family was killed.

She never told me what room, but the whole place feels creepy, like I’m being watched by ghosts from the other side.

It feels the same way now as I rush down the corridor.  However, the creepy vibe gets pushed to the back of my mind when I reach Lucca’s office and hear voices.

There’s his deep masculine timbre, and then there’s that sugary tone of Violet’s voice I heard the day we met.

She’s here. She’s in there with him.

The door is slightly ajar. I would knock and ask to see him privately, but I can see her sitting on top of his desk wearing a super low cut skanky-looking tank top and a micro mini skirt.

The salacious smile on her face tells all.

“Lucca, I’m bored now. Remember what we do when we get like this,” she coos with a girly giggle and my stomach knots at the prospect of what I might hear and see. “Remember the last time we worked together in this office. How you bent me over the desk and fucked my brains out?”

Jesus,I certainly have a way of falling from the frying pan straight in the fires of Hell.

“We have work to do. That’s why we’re here.” Lucca comes into view carrying a wad of paperwork.

“You’re such a wet blanket. I’m assuming that little girl isn’t giving you what you need. Maybe you need to remember what it feels like to be with a real woman.”

Bitch, and fuck her.

She slips off the desk, and when she pulls off her top, exposing her bare naked breasts, I take a step back as more tears come.

“I miss fucking you, and I know you miss me too.” That’s all I hear her say before I turn and walk away from the scene that will take the shape of the rest of my life.

There. That was a snapshot of what is to come.

I was obviously something to fuck when he got bored.

And the worse thing about this moment right now is how stupid I truly am. Foolish and stupid. More so for even acknowledging any sort of feelings I might have had for him.

Here I am holding on to kisses and touches from a killer I supposedly felt safe with, and Violet probably rode on the back of the bike with him, arms secured around his waist and tits pressed right up to his back.

By the time I get down to the end of the corridor, tears stream down my cheeks. These tears aren’t like the ones earlier, though.

These are the tears any woman would cry when she knows the man she’s supposed to be with isn’t hers.

Blinded by them, I just walk and lose my way; there are so many stairs and corners in this house that I’m not surprised I’m lost. I think I turned off too soon and took the wrong stairs.

Where I am now is not where I started. This section has that same vibe I felt earlier, just stronger because I haven’t been on this side of the house before.

That means I’m in one of the fucking forbidden zones.

I make my way down the passage and find another library similar to the one on the other side, just smaller. The books here are all in glass enclosures, and they look really old.

This area feels like when you walk into a home that hasn’t been lived in for many years. I think I might be right in assuming such. I don’t think many people come here.

I leave the library and walk down the hallway finding a toy room filled with girl's toys. There’s a grand dollhouse and a rocking horse, several stuffed animals, and objects.

Seeing it conjures up the dream and the toys I could see. My breath hitches, and I find myself backing away like someone is coming after me.

What I find next is a room with rows of wine like a wine cellar, but this seems like the ones they brought out to be used soon.

I don’t usually drink, and when I do, it’s a Pina Colada.

Right now, I gladly welcome the assistance of anything that will help to numb my mind. So, I walk right in and grab not just one but two bottles of wine.

They look old and expensive, probably strong too, and they have Russian names I can’t pronounce.

I’m a lightweight, so it won’t take long to feel the effects I desire.

I march out of the room and continue down the corridor looking for somewhere I can hide for a few hours. Somewhere no one can find me.

I find another living room, one that as soon as I enter, I get that sharp vibe of eerie again. As it strikes me, I know this is the room.

In my heart, I know this is the room where Lucca’s family died.

My instincts tell me to leave, leave right now, but the ghosts are inviting me to come in and join them. Join them in the misery.

Join in the sadness of the bad things that happened to them.

So, I do because bad things happened to me too.

My eyes go to the little stuffed rabbit on the stool with a copy of a book –Gulliver’s Travels.

Sienna told me that was our favorite classic when we were little. My mother would read it to us.

I walk over to the stool and pick up the little rabbit. Its fur is soft against my fingers.

There’s a sofa right beside me, but I don’t sit on it. Instead, I make my way over to the furthest wall and lower to the floor to sit with the rabbit and the wine.

With my back up against the wall, I open the first bottle and take a huge gulp. It’s sweet, really sweet, and tastes like the succulent grapes my grandparents grow in their vineyards in Italy. Dad took me to visit for the whole summer last year.

The setting and scenic view of the chateau we stayed in were nice, but what spoiled it was me not knowing who the hell anyone was.

I take another gulp of wine, and that’s when I feel the buzz start to kick in. Unlike the first gulp, this is more acrid and almost too sweet. But it gives me a buzz.

The numbness isn’t coming, though.

I can’t feel it at all.

The opposite happens as I rest my head against the wall and start to process this new thing.

The bad memories I’m suppressing. That dream was too vivid to be something my mind conjured. I know that.

If that’s true, then I have to follow Dr. Belmont’s advice and stop pushing against my mind.

What I do know is I have to accept what my heart is telling me. Which is this—I was attacked. It happened in my bedroom when I was a child.

My bedroom at my family home doesn’t have any toys at all. It has that less is more effect like toys were packed away a long time ago.

So, it happened when I was a child, and it wasn’t just any old attack. I can still feel that monster moving inside me.

So, I…

I was raped.

And that’s how I lost my virginity.

More tears flow down my cheeks, and the ache in my heart worsens when I think of it. The nightmare comes to my mind, vivid and vibrant with all the feelings and him inside me.

Who was he?

Who the fuck was he?

Why was he in my room if my parents took such great care of me?

It was dark, and he was there at night.

I start sobbing and take another gulp of the wine.

The questions pour in now, along with another dreaded feeling that there’s more. More memories, just like Dr. Belmont said.

There’s more to the horror I just realized.

Misery comes to take me as I break down, and I blend right in with the dark, disturbing feeling that’s alive in this room.

It’s like the tomb enshrining my mind.

The darkness settles in the pit of my stomach, taking up residence there like it will never leave me.

Like it might swallow me whole.

Right now, I feel so weak and broken I might allow it to.