The Last Hope

2

Selina

"Cazzo! (Fuck)"

I let out a groan of pain, tossing my foundation brush and bending over the sink, palms against the cold marble in the bathroom. I look up at my reflection, and a sob escapes me at the painful bruise on my cheek that I can't cover up. I sigh heavily to avoid crying, startled by a light knock on the door.

"Mamma?" a small voice asks from behind the door.

I breathe a sigh of relief, unlock the door, and let my sunshine in and I lock the door again. I lift him into my arms, wincing at the jolt of pain through my body. I place my son on the counter and smile at him, brushing his strands away from his forehead.

"Why aren't you dressed yet, angelo mio?" I ask him gently.

"My jacket is in my room, but I can't tie this," he complains, handing me his bowtie.

I laugh, lift the collars of his shirt, tie his little bowtie, and fold down his collars.

"And there you go, my love," I murmur, smoothing his shirt.

"Thank you, mamma," he hugs me tightly, rubbing his nose behind my ear, as he always does.

I love you, that's what it means. We have several little gestures like that to communicate. Sometimes saying things out loud is impossible, even dangerous, so we've created our own language. He pulls back, analyzes my face, and finally places his little warm palm against my sore cheek, making me flinch.

"Does it hurt, mamma?" he asks me in such an innocent way that it breaks my heart.

I shake my head, biting my lips, grab his little hand, and kiss his palm.

"Not at all, angelo mio, don't worry."

He stares at me for a few seconds and eventually nods his head, but I know he doesn't believe me. He's seven, old enough to see through my lies but too young to understand everything he's going through.

Suddenly, there's a pounding on the door. My son throws himself against me, squeezing me so hard I groan in pain.

"Mia cara? (my dear) Are you ready?" a gruff voice asks from behind the door.

I hug my son in return, gently massaging his neck. It'll be okay.

"Selina?" the voice sounds again.

I squeeze my eyes shut, burying my face in the crook of my son's neck, go away, go away, go away; the blows rain again against the wood, shaking the walls.

"Unlock this damn door, Selina! Open up! Selina!"

My baby grabs my wrist and presses it twice gently; I'm scared.

I sniff loudly, step back, and cup his face in my hands, rubbing my nose against his, I'm here.

"Selina! I swear if you don't open this door, you'll pay for it, mia cara ! Do you hear me?"

I lower my angel from his perch and turn towards the door; my whole body trembles. I close my eyes, release a trembling breath, and swing the door open to find myself face to face with my worst nightmare.

His eyes slide down my body; the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes makes me want to burn myself. He slides his hand over my intact cheek, his thumb caressing my cheekbone, and leans towards me.

"You're magnificent, mia cara, more beautiful than any of my dreams," he whispers, rubbing his nose against my temple.

I suppress a gag, close my eyes, and start counting, uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque, sei...

A groan of pain escapes me when he violently grabs my newly curled hair.

"But it seems your makeup is a bit light, mia cara, or maybe..." he tightens his grip, pressing his lips against my sore cheek, "you deliberately left some traces, huh?"

I shake my head, biting my lips, clenching my fists, my body tense, holding me on the tips of my toes to alleviate the pain.

"Leave mamma alone!" cries a small voice behind me.

Antonio looks over my shoulder, a smirk appearing on his face.

"Rafael, son, were you here?"

He finally lets me go, giving my hair a last stroke, and walks around me to join my son.

"How handsome you are, figlio mio, like me," he laughs, crouching to pick him up.

"Mamma..."

I lift my eyes to the monster haunting us, raising my chin as I hold my son close. Antonio stares at us, a slow smile stretching across his lips. He plunges his hands into the pockets of his tailored pants and approaches us slowly.

I don't lower my eyes or head; instead, I stand tall despite the pain in my back, despite the fear constricting my breath, despite my trembling. And I know, I know he hates it, I know it infuriates him that I don't bow before him, that I don't beg.

He leans down to my level, still smiling, that damned smile I want to rip off his face.

"Hurry up and finish your makeup, mia cara; the guests have started to arrive. Being late when you're the host is not suitable for a Rasili."

"I am not a Rasili," I spit at him without hesitation.

He chuckles, straightening up, never taking his eyes off me.

"It won't be long, mia cara, it won't be long," he murmurs, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

He kisses my cheek on the bruise, making me groan involuntarily, and leaves the room whistling. I remain frozen until he closes the door behind him, taking his darkness with him. I lean against the dresser, letting out a sigh, gently wiping my cheek with a trembling hand.

"Mamma?"

I lower my eyes to my son, looking at me with shining eyes, a kind I despise. I crouch beside him, smiling and stroking his dark hair.

"It's okay, angelo mio, I'm okay" I reassure him. "Come on, get your jacket and wait for me in your room; I'll come to get you, alright?" I ask softly, caressing his hair.

He waits for a few more moments before nodding vigorously and running off to his room.

I rise, using the door handle for support on my cotton legs, and lean against the marble, groaning in pain.

It'll be okay; it has to be okay, for my son.

I grab the brush and begin to cover the traces my nightmare left on my body.

I squeeze my son's chubby hand, seated in the back of the black sedan, watching the city of Rome unfold before my eyes, only the second time in eight years. The first time was when we went to visit Antonio's parent six years age. I saw the city through a window, much like today, before being locked in my gilded cage again.

The car finally stops in front of the grand five-star hotel where the Rasili emblem gleams. I feel my son snuggle against me, gripping my wrist twice; I'm scared.

I kiss his hair, gently massaging his neck. It will be okay. Antonio's car door opens, letting in a draft; I shiver despite Rome's mild air and startle when mine opens.

I gaze at the tall building, the crowd streaming inside, and anxiety sets in. Eight years since I've been in public, eight years locked away. A shadow appears over my door; I lift my eyes and meet those of a monster. Antonio extends his hand, urging me to descend.

"Come on, mia dolce."

I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to bite his damn hand. Instead, I ignore him and descend on my own. I straighten, smoothing my powder pink satin dress, and help Rafael down. I grab his hand, turning toward the hotel entrance, but an iron grip stops me.

"Don't make foolish moves, Selina. Don't make me regret this decision. Don't you dare disappear from my side, understood, mia dolce?" he whispers, his lips trailing along my ear.

I simply nod and let him guide my arm under his and follow him.