𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 by A.P.Mary

4.

I smile wickedly as her face replays in my mind.

I slam the front door shut, hoping my brothers are out. Today was a sick day, and my clothes are drenched from the storm going on outside. The only good thing that happened was seeing that woman walk inside the grocery store; that one was a stroke of luck. Bellaux. Her name runs in my brain. At least I could take off the hoodie off me, I don't mistake her for a dumb woman.

"Did you think showering fully dressed would reduce the water bill?" Iuliano suddenly pops up from the living room with his arms crossed, glasses reflecting my phone's flashlight used to see the ground on the way home. 

He is leaning on the door frame, his pajamas seemingly suggesting he's been sleeping all this time. Thirty two years and he still has no wrinkles, hope to be like him in a bunch of years.

"Not really, but guess who I bumped into today on my way home." He studies my face as if I have the answer written on my forehead, and of course his answer is a blank resting face. I take off my soaked shoes and throw them sideways. "Lady Bellaux herself"

His face changes"They're in Italy? There's no way they came here after they got Giacomo's ugly hand print last year" I just smile and nod along, taking off my shirt to throw it in the washing machine. He then squints his eyes "What did you do?"

"We chit-chatted in a cafe; I gave her the pill you gave me yesterday, but since it didn't work for some reason, she just felt dizzy and wanted to go home, and like the gentleman I am, I gave her my jacket." I start walking towards the bathroom, climbing the stairs with heavy steps, mostly from my drenched pants. 

A thought suddenly snaps in Iuliano's head: "Don't tell me it's the one with the hidden camera." He looks up at me, wanting a positive answer to come out of my mouth. No shit Sherlock

"Well, then I won't," and I close the bathroom door, sighing in relief as soon as the warm water runs smoothly on my skin.

~

I walk into my room, water drops still falling from my hair and slightly soaking my black t-shirt. I put it in a tiny bun, and my back makes contact with the mattress. The candle on the nightstand is the only source of light in the room. It's almost empty; the only things I have in this room are a bed for two, a desk with a chair, a computer, and two nightstands, both empty as well.

The room's silence is smothering me, and my thoughts are becoming too loud. Today was a complete waste of energy; the pill had no effect on her; either she has a high narcotic tolerance, which I strongly doubt, or the chemicals were mixed up by that redhead bartender. I told him to put the dose in the coffee, but him from being the stoner that he is, must have mixed it up with his own stuff.

If my plan had worked tonight, she would've been here choking on her words, but instead she's at home, most likely sleeping. And by the way, Gabriele? From all the possible names in this world, I chose Gabriele. Ironically being an angel of some sort too. I scratch my head furiously, and I seriously start thinking I'm losing my mind little by little. At every breath, a brain cell dies.

I didn't even check if the camera was working; I took that exact jacket today out of pure luck, and for once, I thank Manuele for forgetting the clothes in the washing machine. I go towards the desk, turning on the laptop. After I search between hundreds of folders I finally find the one I need. I click it.

I sigh in relief escapes my mouth after the long loading, and surprisingly, I find on display her, from what I can see on a balcony, crying: her head laid on her wrist, her entire body shaking, and the ashes from the cigarette floating in the wind. I find myself staring at the screen, confused. Her black hair is tied, with some parts sticking out and moving in the direction of the wind.