Vincenzo 3

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Sara's warning made Vincenzo's skin itch. It'd made him want to hurt her.
True to his word however, he had nothing to do with the murder of Geraldine Awoh or any other teenage girl in the district.

But to think that she wasn't on his side, that she didn't believe him.. no that made his clothes feel like hay against his battered skin.

They were one, they should always be on the same side.

He needs Sara to see that.

But she's afraid of him, distancing herself, undermining all the work he'd put in to this relationship.
And that simply won't do.

Vincenzo winced as she moved against him, he jerks back away from the feeling of her heart pounding erratically against his chest.

She turns around, worry in her big brown eyes.
"Are you okay?"

Vincenzo cradled the bottom of his ribcage. He's fine, his ribcage wasn't broken and he's so high of pain killers that he could stick his hand in a boiling pot and not feel a single thing.

But he narrows his brows and moves a little farther away from the girl.

"I'm fine," he says holding his mid-section tightly. This tough act raises concern more than the pained one. It magnifies other's empathy to think someone who hides their pain very well would be in so much distress that they couldn't hide it.

"Come, come sit." Sara says, slinging Vincenzo's hand over her shoulder. It's as if she's completely forgotten that Vincenzo came in here on his own two feet completely devoid of any indication of an injury.

She sits him on the couch, her eyes drifting to the clock every now and then.
"What's wrong?" Vincenzo asked, she shook her head. "Nothing" she replies before bringing her sleeve to her lips.

He hadn't noticed before since she's rarely in long sleeves that she tugs on it with her teeth to distract herself from what the clock represents.
The first time he'd noticed her doing it was about 4 years back, whenever Vincenzo looked through the stairway windows he'd see her, with her hoodie sleeve in her mouth.

It's an unsanitary habit that she'll have to grow out of.

"Will Your father be here soon?" Vincenzo asked and Sara shook her head. "No, he works pretty much all day."
But the thought of him somehow coming home and finding Vincenzo here, frightens her.

"If it makes you anxious to have me here-" Vincenzo says beginning to stand making sure to weaver. She has to come back home with him. For once he wants her to interrupt him.

"No.. I mean-" Sara is at a loss for words. Her eyes, childlike and wide as they scan Vincenzo's face and neck for visible bruising. She does not have to strain to find more straining into his loose fitting grey cashmere sweater.

"I'm fine Angel, really." He tries to reassure her, Knowing he craves the opposite. Sara's emotions are always so obvious and unmistakable.

He doesn't limp as much to the door, making sure she can see his muscle contract. He's trying his best not to worry her, his posture says, but that just drives her mad with fear and worry.
Exactly as he'd intended.

Soon he's in the passenger seat of his car and she's driving him home. He faces her the whole way, he traces her features with his eyes, her dark thick eyebrows over her round eyes and her equally rounded nose.

Her features are rounded all over and explicitly feminine in the way that burns Vincenzo's loins. she looked entirely of gentleness.

"What?" She says, turning to look at Vincenzo for a second before returning her gaze to the road almost immediately. The way she clings on to the wheel, willing it to follow her every direction precisely out of fear of it overpowering her.

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