Pretty Poison

Twenty - Eight

I woke up that day passed out on the floor with no memory of how I got there, or what had happened. My mind completely blocked out everything besides the songs the birds chirped from outside.

That whole morning I kept to myself, and so did everyone else. No one came and knocked at the door, no one called after me. It was as if I had stepped into the twilight zone.

I stayed in bed the entire day, my body weak for some strange reason. My stomach was empty, but had no appetite for any sort of food. The day passed like that, in silence.

After the sun set behind the mountains, I finally left my room. I went back to the gardens, and I stand there now, staring at the statues that dramatically froze in place.

I walk the pathway, alone, a few gardeners out trimming and replacing dead flowers. I walk barefoot, the feeling of moss touching my feet soothing. I wore nothing but a black button up blouse and a pair of sweats I found in the wardrobe, my hair tied high on my head.

The night passed quietly, the sky covered with fluffy clouds. It was dusk, the only thing lighting the way being the lampposts that flickered with oil flames inside the dirty glass.

I stare up at a tree, it's leaves drooping over the pathway, few leaves scattered on the path. I reach up to grab a leaf, only to jump out of my skin to the sound of his voice.

"There you are," he says, his footsteps coming close to me as his sweet scent looms in the air around me.

I turn on the heels of my feet to face him, only to be met with his bloodshot and tired eyes.

"I wanted to apologize to you, Beatrice, for last night, and for disappearing all day today," his voice is palpable, yet so tired. "I shouldn't have left you there like that, and I'm sorry."

"It's alright," I smile lightly up at him, and he returns the gesture.

"Come, walk with me," he holds his hand out for me to grab, and I take it gladly.

He leads me to the other side of the garden where even more exquisite plants and flowers are arranged. We walk leisurely, enjoying the comfortable silence as we become surrounded by endless shades of green.

"When you left, did you try to find your family?" Luca inquires, breaking the silence between us.

I'm taken back for a second, not really knowing where this came from.

"No," I say distantly, "I didn't think to, there was no way for me to. I had to focus on surviving."

He nods from beside me, "What was it like?" His voice is quiet, wonder laced in his sweet tone.

"It was hard, harder than I had thought it would be. Like I said, I skipped from shelter to shelter, then when I turned sixteen I tried to get a job, but no one would take me. I had no proof of who I was and no way for them to verify my background. I had none. They asked for things I didn't know," talking about this brought back the mixed emotions. The fear, the anger, the confusion, everything.

I feel Luca's grip on my hand tighten just a little, the pad of his warm thumb rubbing reassuring and comforting circles on my skin.

"I finally got lucky, finding a job at a small bakery. The woman needed help so badly that she just hired me on the spot and always gave me my paycheck in cash. I kept everything I had with me at all times, and I stayed away from everyone. I knew that your father had probably sent men after me, and that just scared me into hiding."

"But you stayed hidden from them, thank god," Luca inserts.

"I changed my name so that in case they came searching one day no one knew who they were looking for. I lived in a constant state of fear," I remember the two men instantly. That day they came into the cafe looking for me, oh how scared I was of them.

"I'm so sorry, Beatrice," Luca says, his eyes low.

"It's not your fault. Sometimes we get dealt a shitty hand in life, and we just gotta make the best of it, you know?"

He nods, then remains silent thereafter. His grip is still tight around mine, and his thumb is still soothing. We walked as far left as possible, the lights dimly leading the way back to the mansion. I stare down at the cracked stone pots holding pink hibiscus flower buds, the color absolutely spectacular.

A moment later, I feel Luca's stare just under my neck, eying the empty space as if something is missing.

"I noticed that you wore a certain necklace a lot, every time I saw you, you were wearing it. It had a small pendant on a silver chain," he tried to describe the piece to me, "Whatever happened to it?"

I reach a hand to my neck, instantly realizing what he means. Suddenly, it dawned on me that the necklace is still in Venice, in my apartment. A flash of worry waves across my face for a moment, but then disappears to his next question.

"Whose was it?" He questions.

"I wish I knew," I shrug, staring down at my feet. "I would like to think it was my mom's, but I'm not sure."

Luca gives me a puzzled stare, his features twisting in confusion at my words.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't remember them, or anything. All that I know is that I woke up one day in Levada and I served under your father ever since then. I don't have any memory of them at all, but I wish I did."

"How is that possible?" Luca's confusion peaks, his mind in the same boat as mine. I wish I had answers for him, but I more so wish I had them for myself.

"I don't know, I've been asking myself the same thing."

"So that's why you've never searched for them? Because you don't know them?"

"I don't even know my last name, or where I even came from. It's like I was just dropped here. I would have no idea where to even start to find them, I have no leads," my voice strangely pleads, but no anguish overtakes me. I just feel empty, numb.

I wish I knew those things, but I guess I was just an unfortunate soul. Perhaps it was amnesia, or something else.

None of it makes sense, but I would give anything just to have the answer to one single question: what am I?