Shot to the Hart

Chapter 6: Crime and Punishment

She opened her eyes with some effort; it was like there were 10 pound bags of sand attached to each eyelid. Her throat was sore and the back of her head hurt something awful. What happened?

I was at the mall. We were having fun until they did something, those girls. I thought they were my friends, but they laughed at me. They  embarrassed me and something worse. Their demeanor changed, they turned mean. Even their faces  morphed into masks, the ghoulish way they grinned in the change room mirror made them look like demons. Then they did something really bad, but I can't remember...

Nadia's eyes began to focus on the florescent lights above and she realized she was in the hospital, and she wasn't alone. A doctor and a nurse conferred in the corner and off to the side there was that guy, the cute one. He helped me, she thought. I can't remember how but he saved me. He was with a woman, tall and slender with dark ebony hair except for a striking silver streak in the front. She was speaking rapid Italian to a police officer who spoke Italian back to her. It was all so surreal.

Nadia's parents were no where to be seen, of course. When she needed them the most, they were always gone. That was nothing new. The two college professors were in Belgium for an academic conference, leaving her with the disinterested housekeeper Annie who couldn't be bothered to show up half the time. Or was it Stockholm? Her brain was fuzzy, as if it was wrapped in cotton wool and she couldn't think. 

The nurse noticed she was awake and suddenly there was a buzz in the room and she was surrounded by people and questions. The medical team explained that although she'd nearly drowned and had a nasty concussion, but she was going to be OK. Her parents were contacted but they were unable to fly back. Of course, that was no surprise.

What was a shock was when the beautiful lady sat on her bed and smoothed her hair away from my face.  "Mio Dio, poverina. Quelle ragazze demone pagheranno per questo," she murmurred and her eyes were so kind, she felt tears well up to her utter embarrassment. She was nearly 14 and used to being on her own, she didn't need anyone. But this kindness reminded her of what she didn't have with her own mother and before she could stop myself, she sobbed. 

She cried in the beautiful lady's arms like her heart was breaking. And in a way, it was. Everything came back to her, the girls and their laughter, their demon grins in the mirror, how they nearly killed her. For what? She never did anything to them, her only crime was to exist and to have something wrong with her back. And to want friends. 

That the world and people could be so cruel became breathtakingly apparent in that moment. She'd never known that before, that people could be so horrible. They could hurt you, on purpose and enjoy it - your sadness, your misery. Your pain. It was a lesson she'd never forget. 

The lady with the silver streak glanced up at the cop and he nodded and left the room. Salvatore was standing by the end of the bed with a helpless look on his face. He looked so sad, but underneath there was something else... rage. 

He spoke to the lady in Italian and Nadia was impressed despite the state she was in. Suddenly, she felt a wave of fatigue wash over her like a warm beach wave.

"Sleep," the lady said, straightening up and putting a soft hand on her cheek. "Dormi, carissima. When you are ready to leave, you go home with us until your parents are back."

"No, I'm alright," Nadia said sleepily, but she didn't really mean it. Not at all. She wanted to go home with this woman and Salvatore. They were kind and made her feel safe. 

"You will stay with us and that's it," she said and Sal nodded. "Mama, we should let her get some sleep," he said and she rose and tucked an expensive-looking bag on her shoulder. She was so lovely and glamorous. 

"Will the police arrest those girls?" Nadia asked as sleep closed in.

"No," Sal said, just as the darkness came. "But don't worry. They will pay."

Her eyes fluttered open, still with that heaviness. She'd been dreaming about that day with the girls. Those poor, unfortunate girls. And pay they did. Not right away; not for months, when they least expected it. But each of them did, thanks to the DeMarco family, which became a second family to her before she moved away with her parents to Canada. 

The throbbing in the back of her skull brought her abruptly back to the present situation and she bolted upright, dismayed and irritated to find herself tied to a chair. 

"Who are you?" The voice was a low growl, and the menace behind it sent a chill down her back.

"Who the fuck are you," she answered in reply, trying to focus her eyes. She could barely make out a shape in the dark corner, but suddenly he came forward and brought his face inches to hers.

"Who are you!?" he roared and she flinched back, despite herself. It was Sal, barely standing and clutching his side but apparently still strong enough to rip the IV out of his arm, walk down the beach and clock her with something, most likely a rock. 

"Wait— you don't know?" She couldn't believe he didn't recognize her by now, understand what she was doing, why she brought him there. 

"Why don't you tell me why you shot me then kidnapped me and maybe I won't shoot you in the head." He held her own gun to her temple but she knew he wouldn't use it. No matter how much he'd changed since childhood, it wasn't in his nature. She was the killer, not him.

And he did change.  The softness of boyhood in his face was gone and he had a scar just under his right eye that made him look dangerous. Sal was still handsome though, even scarred. Even when he was furious with her. 

She didn't have time for this. She worked at the ropes that tied her hands, the knots were loose in an instant. Freeing herself was easy. The hard part would be  taming this raging bear; getting him to listen before he hurt himself or her any further.