I hardly realize I've began crying until I hear Elijah's voice and I realize just how long I've been wrapped up in my pity. I faintly heard the front door close and he must've came immediately up, he probably didn't talk to Xander or Francesco yet.
"Angel, what's wrong?" He asks.
His soothing voice makes me feel even worse. The tears flow even more and my body is trembling now, I'm facing away from Elijah and my face is half buried into my pillow as my hands grip the side of the pillow. If Xander and Francesco feel that way, that makes me feel bad, even worse if that's how Carlo feels, but if Elijah didn't want me either, then why am I here?!
I'm so wrapped up that when Elijah's hand makes contact with my arm, I jerk away in shock. He doesn't touch my arm again, he flips on my bedside lamp and walks around to the other side of my bed so he can see my face.
"Maddie, can you talk to me?" He asks gently.
I feel the need to try to make this right. "I'm sorry I wasn't what you guys wanted," I say, finally sitting up and drawing my knees up to my chest.
"What are you talking about?" He asks, crouching at the side of my bed so he can look at me face to face. His eyes look concerned, he still has on his trench coat, he probably just wanted to tell me he was here and go and now he has to hear my sob story.
"I heard them in the kitchen," I say shakily, my voice is an octave higher than usual and it's shaking, my lip is trembling as is the rest of my body, "I know—"
"Wait, sweetheart, you heard who in the kitchen?" He says putting a hand up to stop me.
"Xander and Francesco." Their names sound wrong for me to say, like I don't deserve to say their names.
He looks like he wants to ask me what they said, but he doesn't. I know he'll get the answer out of them regardless.
"They didn't mean whatever they said, Maddie, I promise. They're just scared, this is all new to them. They don't want to do the wrong thing."
If that's really the truth, then how did they mess up so badly?! When I don't want to do the wrong thing, I actually try, they haven't been trying. They just don't want me around, I guess it's easier for me to accept that than anyone else.
It still hurts.
He begins to move his arm forward and involuntarily flinch back, he sighs quietly, before using his sleeve to wipe the tears off my face even though my entire face is soaked, leaving tears on his sleeve.
"I have a surprise for you," He says gently. I can tell he's trying to keep the contact to a minimum to give me a chance to ground my surroundings.
I recall what he said earlier and realize he must've taken pity on me because I know Francesco didn't tell him I was good today.
I watch his hand closely as he slides it into his pocket, he pulls an iPhone box out of his pocket. My eyes widen slightly, I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out, I just sit their with a gaping mouth.
"I saw your phone, it looked pretty bad," He says, taking the top off the phone and pulling out the new pink iPhone from the box, "Sandro already has it set up with our names and synced it with your old phone."
I turn it on and look at the new screen. "I also grabbed you a phone case."
He hands me the pale pink phone case, it has a white pop socket on the back too.
"Elijah," I say incredulously, "I—"
"Madison, it's a gift, just accept it."
I hesitate, every gift has to be paid back at some point, and I dread the day when they want me to return the favor.
He stands up, "Don't stay up for too long, alright?" He leans over, about to kiss my forehead, but decides against it, masking it as just clicking the lamp off, "Good night, Maddie."
"Good night," I say. I want to say more but nothing seems quite right. He shuts the door slightly behind him.
I decide I'm going to call Jess and Chase tomorrow once they're out of school, for now I try my best to sleep but not too deep. I stay between the throes of sleep and consciousness, praying the nightmares will stay away tonight.
Needless to say, it isn't a very good sleep.
At around 5:30am, I'm awake for the final time and decide to stop trying to go to sleep. I'm still in my clothes from yesterday so I take a shower and brush my hair up, sliding my rib brace on under my pink Mickey Mouse hoodie with the mouse ears and my fuzzy slippers. As it's a Sunday, I don't expect anyone else to be up when I walk into the kitchen, but I internally wish I'd stayed in bed when I see Alessandro pouring himself a mug of coffee in the kitchen.
"Shit," I whisper.
"I'd appreciate if you didn't curse, Madison. Have a seat please so we can talk."
My face flushes that he heard me cursing his very existence. I walk over to the island and sit across from where his laptop is. He busies himself for a few moments as he pours a glass of Orange Juice at the fridge before bringing it over to me, he takes a sip before sliding it over to me.
He sits down with his toast.
"You texted, Sandro?" Xander walks into the room with the same bitter expression. He doesn't sound happy to be here, and I wonder if he was scolded last night.
For a moment, I'm thankful for the interruption. Until I remember that this is Xander we're talking about, and I remember everything he said last night and immediately, all I want to do is crawl into a dark hole and never resurface.
"Do you have something you want to say to your little sister?" Alessandro says calmly.
His voice is still even, his expression stoic, but the edge of a threat is evident. I would know to take him seriously, but Xander doesn't seem to take the hint, "I don't think so," Xander says, grabbing a bottle of soda out of the refrigerator.
"Xander."
The simple name from Alessandro seems to remind Xander who he's talking to. He huffs and rolls his eyes, turning to me "Look, I shouldn't have been talking shit about you behind your back, alright? I'm fucking—I'm sorry, okay?"
My mouth hangs slightly agape for a moment, but Xander — In true Xander fashion — just has to ruin it, "But that doesn't change the fact that this household isn't fit for a 13 year old girl, the house, the company, it's—"
Sandro's expression never cracks, but I cu in before he can scold Xander.
"You know, you don't have to keep saying that," I say softly, "I already know, you don't have to convince me."
That seems to silence both of them, I stand up, propping my hands on the table to lift my foot from how I was sitting on it, "I'm gonna go see if my phone is charged."
Alessandro finally stands, "Maddie, come to my office, please. There are a few things I'd like to talk about, Xander, get your brother, and come with me."
I follow him to his freakily tidy office where he pulls the chair out, "Sit down," He tells me coldly. I sit down, his voice is sharp and calm, it's not a request, it's an order. I sit in the seat furthest from the other 2 chairs.
When Xander and Francesco finally enter the room, my heart drops. What is Sandro doing?
Xander begrudging sits down in the seat beside me, while Francesco takes the other.
Sandro gives Francesco a pointed cold stare, his deep blue eyes hold no emotion, but they show a clear indication that Alessandro isn't the type to play with you and Francesco picks up on the quiet threat faster than Xander did in the kitchen.
"I'm sorry for what I said, Maddie. I was stressed and I had a drink when I got home and I was buzzed," Francesco says.
His apology is a lot more crisp and put together than Xander's, but they don't sound sincere, maybe they do, maybe I have trust issues, but their apologies don't make it to my heart, they barely make it past my ears. I itch to say something but don't at fear of speaking out of turn.
My hand stays in a fist in my lap and I don't respond. Sandro's eyes stay on mine for a moment, it feels like hours. It's like he's reaching into the deepest parts of my mind, trying to figure out what I'm thinking.
"Is there something you want to say, Madison?"
"That's bullshit—"
"Language," Sandro cuts in.
I exhale, I hate that rule, "Sorry," I say.
"Just remember it in the future. Continue. Why don't you believe them?" It sounds less like a question and more like a statement.
"Xander wasn't drunk, and there was only but so much alcohol Francesco could have had in the 5 minutes he was home. Plus, not only was mom an alcoholic, but I've been drunk before, drunk people confess, not make stuff up," I say quietly.
I remember the one time I was drunk. It was horrible. I don't drink anymore, it holds too many bad memories, but I know that drunk confessions are sober thoughts.
"So whether you were drunk or not, I know that's what you really think."
They're all silent, and for a moment, they seem speechless even.
"You're not sorry for what you said. You're sorry I heard you, maybe sorry you got in trouble, but if you aren't really sorry then don't apologize...Please."
Despite the shakiness of my voice, I can't believe I said that and I immediately fear the repercussions.
"Alright. Xander, Francesco. That'll be all, you can leave," Sandro's calm voice states, they obey, not daring to talk back as they exit, leaving me alone with Alessandro, and at this moment, I decide I'd rather be alone with anyone else. Even Xander, because at least with his lack of discretion I'd know what he was thinking, but with Sandro, the only thing I have to work with is his silence and his cold hard gaze and stoic expression.
He pulls out my medical file from yesterday, setting it on the table, but he doesn't say anything about it at first, clearly simply letting me know he knows what we talked about yesterday, "Is there anything you would like to share with me?" He asks.
"No," I say simply.
"Maddie, I want you to understand that trust is one of the most important things in any family," He says.
I don't answer, I just keep my head down, my eyes on the floor.
He's quiet, giving me the chance to answer before simply nodding, I can tell he's becoming frustrated with my lack of trust that they've given me no reason to give them. He masks it well though, his dark blue, almost black, eyes stay hard, his expression never cracks. It's almost chilling to see, and interesting to watch.
"Elijah told me about your expressing wanting to attend school in-person," Sandro says.
I don't feel as eager as I did before, anxiety climbs it's prickly fingers up my throat at the thought of having to spend time around teens my age or older. But I know if I turn this down just because I feel this way now, I'll regret in the future.
"Yes," I say.
"Despite how I may disagree with you being in person for school, I've decided to let you attend school with your brothers." I look up at him, my eyes slightly wider. "But there are of course rules you're expected to follow. I know I only briefly touched on rules on the first day, but as you've been here longer and I'm assuming you've become acclimated with how things work around here, I'd like to run through the rules. For one, I don't expect any disrespect, lying, cussing, talking back, disobeying direct orders, do you understand?"
I realize he managed to knock off any sort of me defending myself against them in one rule. Sweet. I nod, before remembering to be verbal, "Yes, I understand," I say softly.
"Accordingly to what you said prior, no drinking, no drugs, and I won't give you restriction on your phone or your sleep schedule, but keep in mind that regardless of when you go to sleep, you will be awaken when it's time for you to be awake, understood?"
"Yes."
"No boys. No sneaking out. No hiding things. Nothing that you wouldn't expect us to be okay with. You are now a child under our care, and I expect you to obey these rules, understood?"
"I'm not a child," I say quietly.
"Would you like to repeat that?" He says challengingly.
I swallow the lump in my throat, "I said I'm not a child," I say.
"Your inability to provide for yourself and talk for yourself says otherwise."
My heart races and I speak before I can stop myself, "You try being abused for 13 years and come out in perfect shape," I say, finally looking up at him in the eye.
"What did I say about disrespect?" He says sharply, causing me to flinch back in my seat.
Any false sense of conviction I had drains out, and drowns me back into silence and submission.
"Sorry," I says quietly, my voice shaking.
His phone rings and he grabs it off the table. "Remember what I said. You begin school on Wednesday."
His voice is cold and demanding, I realize his words are a dismissal and I stand up and exit promptly.
My fists clenched, tears welling in my eyes.
What was I even thinking?
. . .
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