With my eyes shut and a goofy smile on my face, I welcomed the new day. I wiggled closer to Nicolas, who had his arms wrapped around me and a leg thrown over my waist. He must've been a Venus flytrap in his past life.
"Morning, Sia," he mumbles against the skin of my back. I sigh blissfully and turn a little to look at him. His eyes are puffy from sleep and a pout is on his lips. I smile.
"Morning."
"You think we can stay in bed all day today? Just--" he yawns, making me yawn and he laughs lightly upon seeing me. "Just take a day off and maybe cuddle the whole morning and go on little dates the rest of today? We haven't had much time for us lately. I miss you."
I wiggled around to face him. He pulled his leg closer to me and pushed me to him. I trailed my finger along his jaw and hummed in approval. "I'd love that. Where do you want to go?"
"I don't care, really. You?"
"Well," I bit my lip. "I've been craving some desserts for a while now. Maybe we could go eat breakfast and have some sugar? Didn't you want to buy a new bike, too? We could do that today."
"My Sia," he mumbled. "Always the planner. Sounds awesome. Can we stay here a little longer, though?"
I smiled, nuzzling into his neck. "Obviously."
I shut my eyes and slowly drifted back to sleep. When I woke up again, Nicolas was stroking my hair. "Hey, baby."
"Hey. What time is it?" The sleepiness in my voice made my words tumble over each other.
He kissed my forehead. "Eleven. Want to go get some breakfast?"
I nodded, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. After stretching my arms, I got off the bed. "I want some coffee first, though. I'm so exhausted."
Nicolas got off the bed, grabbing my hand and pulling me up. I groaned at him and fell back on the bed. Mocking a frown, he held onto my hand and put a hand on his hip. "Sia Bianchi, what is this behavior? Don't be a child."
I scrunched my nose at him and whined. "I'm tired. You shouldn't have let me sleep again."
"What am I?" He scoffed, "your babysitter?"
I grinned at him, "no. You're my baby giver."
He gave me a crazy look before laughing. "That was so bad."
I sat up and jut my chin out. "No, it was very clever. You would have never thought about it."
"And I wouldn't have wanted to." The overt sass in his tone made me snort. "You know, you're a hypocrite. Chastising me for making dirty remarks and then turning my few innocents words into something rated R. I am a victim of your manipulation."
Standing up, I walked to the door and threw a smug look over my shoulder at him. "Cry about it."
I laughed as I heard him follow behind me. He brought out the child in me so often. Nicolas Alfonsi is the only person that could have me giggling as I ran down the stairs. He ran down, too, giggling right along with me as he got closer. I jumped the last three steps and ran to the kitchen, bumping into one of the tables and a flower vase shaking unstably. Mateo and Veronica, who were sitting on the couches, stared at us as we zoomed by.
I reached the kitchen, crashing against the counter and turning around with a carefree grin on my face. Nicolas reached shortly after, his feet sliding against the floor. He stuck his arms out and stopped himself at the wall, eyes wild and grin huge as he stalked the way towards me. He gripped my hips and pulled me to him. "You think you can mock me and then run away?"
I grinned, the laugh bubbling out of my chest. "I already did."
Both our heads turned in the direction of the door, hearing it shut loudly. My father entered, followed by Diego and two other guards. My mom entered shortly behind them, Emilio in her arms.
I stepped away from Nicolas, walking over to my dad. I was going to give him a welcome hug, but he shouted at me first. "In my office. Now!"
I took a step back, startled by the hostility. One of the guards was carrying a box. She walked to my dad's office with it in hand. The other guard had my mom's diaper bag. My mom met my eyes briefly before looking away and at the guard. "In the nursery, please." The guard nodded, taking Emilio and the bag, walking in the direction of the nursery.
"Dad?" I frowned, uncomfortable with the anger in his eyes. "What happened?"
His jaw clenched tightly, a look of pure anger on his face. I flinched, a queasy feeling running along my body. I took a step back again.
"We couldn't make the FBI take a step back. I spoke to Jason and he said he'll see what he can do, but he's not sure if it would work. However, I was able to talk to some people in Rome. They'll make some phone calls here and throw off the feds until we can figure out what to do. For now, the plan of action is to make you look like you're being framed. It might bring more attention to you, but we'll just have to move silently until this blows over."
I nodded, still uncomfortable with the expression he wore. "I figured as much. I was hoping the feds would stay a bit longer, actually."
He frowned, tilting his head slightly to the right. "Why?"
I swallowed hard, nerves bubbling in me for some unknown reason. I felt ridiculous. This was my father. He was good. I could always trust him. I cleared my throat, struggling to keep eye contact. "I'm going to blow them to bits."
He paused for a moment, slightly taken aback. "Why?"
"I need to create a diversion. The illusion of power. Turns out the people from the Nine Circles sicced the cops on me. I'm going to blow the place to bits, but not before I let them know there's a mole in their department."
"You're going to rat?"
"No," I said, slightly vexed. "I'm going to eliminate the enemy. I won't tell them of the people on our side. I'm going to tell them about the people who fed the information for me, steer the investigation from me. It'll make me look less suspicious and it will turn the operation on the others."
"That's risky," my father shook his head. "Cops don't work that way. And, what? After you blow them up, you don't think they'll come knocking on your door?"
"That isn't concerning me. Feds are nothing more than annoying. A few threats here and there and I'll be able to calm them long enough to fabricate my innocence. Turning the investigation on the others is to create that illusion of power. I'll let the others know I'm onto them, then I'll obliterate their plan to chain me down."
My father stayed silent for a moment, digesting it all. In the end, he shook his head and took a step forward. "I don't care, at the moment. You and I have something we need to speak about."
"What's going on, Dad?"
"You lied to me."
I recoiled. "I what?"
"Let's go to my office." Without a word, he walked past me. Dumbfounded, I followed behind him.
I walked into the office as he told the guards to leave. Mom came inside and Nicolas stood silently in the corner of the room. "Dad, what are you talking about?"
"I asked for a copy of all the information they had on you, to get an idea of what they had on us." He turned around after rummaging through the box on his desk, a manila file folder packed with papers in his hand. "On the time there and during my trip back, I read through your files."
I felt a jolt in my stomach, getting the sensation that something was seriously wrong. I didn't respond to what he said, trying to rid myself of the nagging feeling. Slowly my mind started grasping the weight of his words, what they meant. As the realization of what my father told me blanketed me, I felt a wave of icy horror roll over me. "My files," I parroted, my voice small.
"Your files," he confirmed, his voice bristling with emotion.
"What did you read, Dad?"
His jaw ticked as he stared back at me. It was the first time in a long time that I felt fear of my Dad. Of this Dad. "They had your school files. I found it odd that they would have those, but I read them anyway. Almost didn't," he laughed bitterly.
The jolt in my stomach was rougher this time, making me feel sick enough to throw up. My school files. I felt like crying. "Dad--"
"You lied to me," he said through gritted teeth.
I shook my head, "I didn't."
"Well, you didn't tell me." I couldn't stand the underlying tone of accusation in his voice. The sick feeling in my stomach grew stronger.
"I told you I wouldn't." I tried to keep my voice steady, but the desperation filtered through. "I told you I could handle it."
His eyes screwed shut before he threw the folder to the ground, the papers scattered everywhere, littering the space around us. "I never knew what it was! That it was this! How could you keep that from me!?"
I swallowed back the fear that crawled up my throat. It tasted bitter. "Dad--"
"We've been through this before, Anastasia!" He shouted. "You hold things back thinking you're protecting people, but it's only hurting everyone involved!"
"I am!" I shouted. "I am protecting people! Myself. You. Mom. Everyone. It's my life, Dad! I don't have to speak about things that happened to me. I don't have to reopen closed wounds!"
A knock on the door beat my father to a response. The room went silent as the door slowly opened and Jonathan peeked his head inside. "Uh, I was looking for... I'll leave."
He began retreating his head, but my father spoke. "No." Jonathan stopped, his eyes meeting my father's reluctantly. "Stay," Dad said. It was an order.
Jonathan glanced at me briefly before stepping inside and closing the door. He didn't move too far from it and stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
"You are my daughter, Anastasia," my father spoke again, his voice sounding like it was struggling to contain itself.
"I am."
"What happened to you--it affects me. It affects your mother. It affects everything and everyone in your path. It affects the business, it affects your reaction to things. And something tells me that what those reports say is barely the tip of the iceberg."
I rubbed my face roughly, having the ridiculous feeling to cry. "It's over, Dad. It doesn't matter anymore. I'm fine. We're fine."
"Michael Rios abused you, Anastasia." The raw emotion in my father's voice nearly brought me to my knees. I heard as Jonathan sucked in a breath.
I looked away from my Dad, feeling shame for some odd reason. "That was a long time ago. I'm fine."
"The reports said he hurt you. You'd show up to school with injuries everywhere," my Dad's voice became venomous the more he spoke. A series of chills ran down my spine with every word. "You told the counselors you got into fights until they caught on. Until they realized what was happening. Even then, you said it was because you misbehaved. Because you had it coming. Those reports never even mentioned the police being brought into it. Never mentioned Michael explaining. You defended his actions, every single time."
I looked over at Mom, who stared at me with pain in her eyes. She looked so torn that it physically hurt me. I bit my tongue, the frustration of this situation sending me over the edge. I turned my head to see Nicolas, suddenly remembering he had followed. He has been too quiet.
A feeling of dread weakened my legs as I saw he was crouched on the floor with the reports in his hands, reading over them. His eyebrows were knit together as he took papers in his hands and dropped others back on the floor at his leisure. I couldn't form a word as I watched, my entire body growing cold.
Slowly, he stopped his movements and paused for a second. His eyes went up and he stared me down. He glanced at Jonathan before back at me. "Did he know?"
With my tongue feeling heavy in my mouth, I struggled to say anything. Instead, I nodded meekly.
Nicolas stood, his body tense in a stance that made me feel small. He had completely shut himself off and I couldn't begin to wonder what he was thinking. His eyes trained on Jonathan. "I'm going to kill you," his voice was low.
Before I could react, Nicolas lunged for Jonathan's throat, his hands circling him and tightening. Jonathan's eyes widened at the realization of what was happening, his fingers trying to pry Nicolas off him.
"Nick!" I shrieked, finding my voice. "That's not what I meant!" I grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "He only knew after he found out. When we killed Michael, that's when he found out! No one but Michael and I knew what was happening! Nick, let go."
Nicolas' hands unclasped Jonathan's throat as he stepped back. Jonathan coughed loudly, holding onto the wall. Nicolas stepped away from me, his face red and his eyes wide.
"You told him?" He asked me. "Him and not me? Me?"
"She didn't tell me," Jonathan wheezed. "She didn't tell anyone. Jessica and I only found out after Michael spoke about it with her. We were listening in and found out. He had her scared into silence and loyalty with the fear of punishment." Jonathan met my eyes pointedly, "It's worked perfectly even years after his death."
"That's not true," I argued. Still, even I knew it was. Deep down, I knew my fear for Michael ran deeper than the desire to heal myself. The consequences of not following his rules became my greatest fears and his rule of silence was the gravest of them all. The one I was warned the most about. The one I never dared to break. His words rang clear in my head every time the thought of opening up crossed my mind.
This is a promise, Tasia. The trips to the shooting range and the broken bones will be heaven compared to the hell that'll fall on you if you ever speak up. If you ever tell anyone what has happened to you. Is that clear?
Yes, father. It always has been. It never won't be.
***
Eek!!
I have been waiting a long time for this to come. Writing Anastasia's fears and trauma is so hard and emotionally taxing. I hope I did a good job in portraying the conflict she's feeling. And also the mixed feelings of everyone else in the room.