so tired of people doing it. I deserved the harsh truth, even if it crushed my heart.
Adamo pushed his hands into his pockets. His expression cranked up the compassion.
And I could not bear it. “What exactly did he say?” I seethed, so fucking angry but at the same time bursting with despair. All because of Adamo, of the way he might handle me in the future. I’d never felt anything similar with Dima, as if my heart might splinter.
“Does it matter?”
“Of course, it does!” I sneered. “Can you imagine how frustrating it is to be in the dark about something that concerns you so integrally? Because of the way you’re looking at me, I know you’re pretty shaken up about what Remo said. He’s maybe the only one who knows everything because he’s the one who handled everything back then. Even I don’t know everything, only the lies and halt-truth that my father, you and your brothers told me.”
I could feel the treacherous heaviness in the back of my throat, the prickling at the back of my eyeballs—harbingers of tears. Not going to happen. Crying was a sign of weakness I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time.
The craving for relief swelled like the tide, unstoppable, slowly eating away at my resolve like the waves took over the sand. I fumbled for a cigarette, even though I hated the taste, the smell, the feel of the soggy paper in my mouth. I’d never be a smoker because I enjoyed it. But it was better than nothing, better than the alternative. I needed something to soothe my anxious mind, to silence the call of my dark craving.
Adamo came closer, his keen eyes scanning my shaking fingers. Maybe he knew the telltale signs. After all, he was intimate with dark cravings as well.
I steeled myself for his touch but his hands stayed lodged in his jeans. His dark eyes searched mine. Taking a deep drag, I turned my head away, giving him my profile. “I’m not lying,” he said, then took a deep breath. “Remo showed me a video of you and what happened.”
I felt the color drain from my face, and my throat corded up. Too many years had gone by for me to remember everything, or even the majority of what had happened. I remembered bits and pieces. Nightmarish events that haunted my sleep in disjointed episodes or flashes of still images. I’d worked hard to forget as much as possible, had used alcohol and drugs to speed up the process. “You—” My vocal cords froze up and I couldn’t say more.
Anger battled with horror and frustration in my body. Again others knew more about me and my life than I did.
Adamo came even closer, so very careful as if he feared I’d take flight. Running had never solved a thing. “I hardly watched anything. Only a couple of minutes until I realized where it was heading. I couldn’t bear to watch further.”
I glowered. “You couldn’t bear to watch? I lived through what you couldn’t even watch.”
I wasn’t even sure why I was angry about that. A big part of me was glad he hadn’t seen more of my horrors. A tiny part was still ashamed when I thought of what had been done to me. It was an ugly voice even years of therapy, drugs and distractions hadn’t silenced.
Adamo nodded, his expression kind and solemn at once. I wanted to punch him as hard as I could. Instead I balled one hand to a fist and took another deep drag from my cigarette. My fingers were shaking, letting the smoke rise up in an erratic zig-zag course.
“I know,” he murmured in a voice like silk. “I shouldn’t have watched it at all without asking for your permission first. This was taken in your personal space.”
I scoffed. “Trust me, nobody cared about my personal space back then.” I shivered, as remnants of memories flickered at the back of my mind. Words, scents, images that had left permanent marks in my subconscious.
“Dinara, I—” He released a breath.
I met Adamo’s gaze. “Say whatever you have to say. I’m not breakable, Adamo. What happened back then didn’t break me, whatever happens now and in the future won’t break me either.” My voice was pure steel, just like the protective coating slowly covering my heart.
“What do you mean?” Adamo asked, looking honestly confused. “I don’t have any intention to do something that could hurt you, much less break you.”