her mother had said during her frequent drunken ramblings was true, she’d only ensured she became pregnant to trap Nick anyway.
She’d had to live with her mother’s hatred since her birth, with the vile venom that would not leave her mother’s soul. She’d put up with it until the day her mother died. She’d thought that, at last, the curse was over. She’d been worried that Matteo would leave her, and there’d been worry over the bills, but there had been a part of her that felt… free.
She’d started to wonder about what else the world had to offer her, what life existed outside the parish borders, outside of the walls of this house. Matteo had crushed her hope, he’d shown her that her mother was right. All that existed outside of her home was wickedness. Evil. Malicious greed.
She stared up at the ceiling, a ceiling that she would soon have to leave, and knew that what she needed to do was calm down. She was overreacting and what she needed to do was calm down.
Marie pushed herself up from the floor and wandered into the kitchen. She took out a bowl of ice, wrapped a few blocks in a kitchen towel, and sat down at the table. It was too quiet in the almost empty house, so she reached over to turn on the old radio. She would take that with her when she left the house, she decided.
And where would she go? She had no family that would take her in. There were no friends that would allow her to crash on their couch. None that she thought were close enough to ask that favor of.
She’d have to see what was left from the sale… but then she thought about what Matteo had said. She would have to use whatever she had left from the sale to pay off his aunt. It would never cover what her mother owed the vengeful bitch in New York. Fuck!
Marie tossed the towel full of ice at the kitchen sink with an angry shout, her mind in a panicked whirl. What could she do? What could she possibly do?
She could take whatever money was left and run far away, maybe. Run away to Vegas or somewhere in the California mountains, as long as it was far away. Would Matteo’s aunt have him hunt her down?
Matteo had never said he was a part of the Mafia. He’d certainly never explained his work life but she wasn’t stupid. The kind of money her mother had borrowed didn’t come from a hotel mogul or a billionaire prince exiled to America. No, that money had come from the Mafia or a drug lord of some kind. Even a drug lord with that kind of money to throw around would have to be in some kind of gang or the Mafia.
Distracted, not really paying attention, Marie prepared herself a cup of coffee in the old French press she’d found at a yard sale years ago. The kettle was on the stove, but she forgot all about it until the pressure of the boiling water drove out the steam and the kettle began to whistle. She reached over, without thought, and burned her hand when she grabbed up the metal handle.
The way she pulled her hand back flung the kettle across the kitchen floor and hot boiling water poured out everywhere. “Fuck!”
She grabbed the towel that covered blocks of ice from the sink for her burned hand, picked up a potholder with the other, and grabbed up the kettle from the floor. With a resigned sigh, she put the kettle back onto the stove, turned off the radio, and went to bed.
She made do with a bottle of water from the fridge and turned on the television.
Her mind still raced, thoughts coming and going like bats hunting in the darkness, flitting from place to place. She could marry him, take him for whatever he was worth, and get on with her life. That was a plan. One she might be able to live with. If she could talk some of the softness out of her soul.
She knew she was weak, too soft for her own good. It wasn’t all her mother’s doing, Marie was naturally biddable. She wanted to keep the peace, wanted to sail through life without anyone else telling her she was worthless. Marie had never seen that as a bad thing, but now she saw that she had to harden herself up, just a little,