Winona [18+]

chapter four

JUNE 08, 1985

SALVATORE RINALDI

As promised, Salvatore Rinaldi's room was blessed with a good view. It's all an artist could ever ask for. Good view, good paint. The rest belonged to the realms of their imagination. His window overlooked rolling hills and gray clouds that met with the horizon. A looming sense of apprehension overcame him the longer he stared into the void of nothingness.

Nothing, in particular, caught his eye.

Desolate, dreadful, and dull.

Between splotches of wispy clouds, he noted the blinking stars sewn into the pitch-black night sky. The stars were rare in the city and he had forgotten that there were things bigger than him; things he would never understand.

The existential dread suffocated him and he willed himself to look away.

In the distance, a black iron gate separated the fields from the manor. He hated the looks of it. Fences were built to keep people out and the sinister undertones of the tall gate did not go unnoticed. Past the gate, there grew grassy fields that he could get lost in. The greenery stretched on forever until the ground kissed a glimmering pond far away. Moonlight reflected off the surface of the water and illuminated the surrounding trees.

The unknowns of the rural scene kept most city folk away and Salvatore hadn't given much thought to how isolated the Benedetto Manor felt.

What dangers lurked beyond the estate?

What secrets lied within?

To his dismay, he was at the mercy of the grand estate. The sooner that he learned to adapt to its ways, the better.

Salvatore spent the entirety of the day organizing his assortment of artist supplies and canvas, ensuring that his belongings were neatly unpacked. His clothes were tucked away in the dusty wardrobe. His books were neatly arranged on the work desk. His money plant was perched upon a windowsill, its leaves and stems hanging low.

Everything had its place, despite how out of place he felt.

The uncertainty that came from his decision to accept Zara's rare offer fueled hesitation, and with hesitation came more uncertainty.

A vicious, endless cycle.

After removing his wristwatch, Salvatore worked against the buttons of his white shirt. He draped the cotton fabric across a lonely chair before taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. There, he removed the silver band around his ring finger and cracked his knuckles. The springs creaked under his weight as he pulled his aching feet up to rest.

His clammy palms rubbed against his pants and he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The heat felt sticky and he learned his lesson from opening the window earlier; Strange bugs will find their way inside and make a home where they do not belong.

He left the glass panels shut and refused to open them again.

Riya's old room was quaint and void of anything that resembled her bubbly personality. All reminders of her were gone, and it felt as though a ghost resided in the enclosure. He hated the pale-yellow wallpaper and made a mental note to strip the walls bare before he left. A neutral tone would do. Salvatore leaned against the headboard and crossed his arms over his chest, nitpicking the room in an effort to lull himself to sleep.

The curtains were a horrid shade of purple that made his skin crawl. Specks of dust covered the crooked shelves. He glanced at the vintage table near him and attempted to open the top drawer, finding it stuck and difficult to pry loose. With a harsh tug, it abruptly rolled open and he stared at the diamond-shaped knob in his hand.