Page 38 of Vicious Intentions
Do they deserve to feel even a fraction of what they put me through? To feel just as powerless and frightened? Of course they do. But I know Stella, and I know Marcello. They would not stop at fear.
These are the moments when I wish my family were different. That I had a sister who was not so eager to exact revenge. That she was someone I could simply be with. Someone who would just hold me and tell me that everything will be okay.
Instead, I have to act strong. Act like the whole incident didn’t shake me to my core. Act like I am fine.
I have to keep up that pretense because the moment they realize just how badly this has hurt me, those boys are as good as dead. And though I would not weep at their funeral, I refuse to have blood spilled in my name. My family already has enough of it on their hands.
The one person I could talk to about this is Raffaele, but I’ve been ignoring his texts, too. I know he’s worried. I know my sudden radio silence is setting off alarms in his head. But I don’t have the strength to lie to him. Not about this.
I want to tell him what happened. I’m just not ready yet. Explaining it means reliving every disgusting detail. But worse than that, I would have to explain why I didn’t do anything to defend myself. Why I didn’t fight back. Why I just froze and stood there. Why my mind and body betrayed me when I needed them most.
I’ve been living in a constant state of shame and revulsion since it happened, and I don’t know when these feelings will go away.
“Hey, sis,” Stella says cheerfully as she walks into my room, only to stop short when she sees me buttoning my cardigan. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like?” I reply, lowering my eyes from her accusing stare as I keep stuffing my backpack with the textbooks I need for today.
“It looks like you’re getting ready for school.”
“That’s because I am.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “No way. You’re not going.”
“I have to go. I can’t miss class.”
“Yes, you can,” she insists fervently. “Everyone does it. Why can’t you?”
Because the one time I ditched class, those boys tried to assault me,I think, but I don’t dare say the words out loud.
“I have to go, Stella. I have an important test today. I can’t skip that.”
“Mom will write you a note.”
“What am I, nine?” I snap, having had enough of this conversation. “I don’t need Mom to write me anything. I’m going to school, and that’s final.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” I say, tears burning the back of my throat.
Stella opens her mouth, clearly ready to argue, when my mother’s voice cuts in from the doorway.
“What’s going on here?” she asks, stepping into the room, her gaze moving between us.
Stella and I never argue, not like this, so it’s only natural that our mother wants to know what’s wrong.
“Annamaria should stay home today,” Stella utters, crossing her arms over her chest. “She’s just being too stubborn to do it.”
“Are you still sick?” my mother asks worriedly, rushing toward me to inspect me further. “Should I call a doctor?”
“No, Mom,” I try not to fidget under her worried gaze. “I’m feeling much better now. Well enough to go to school.”
“No, you’re not,” Stella bellows.
Our mother looks between us in confusion, clearly not used to seeing us bicker like this.
“Well, if your sister says she’s fine, then we have to trust her instincts,” she says gently. “If you feel ill later in the day, just text me, and I’ll come pick you up.”
“I can do that,” Stella interjects. “If you need to leave, I’ll be there.”
