Chapter 12: A Scar

Matteo led me to the room above the kitchen.

It had a bed, a chair and a window over the courtyard.

I had never been there before.

He had a doctor see my shoulder, then sent everyone away.

The cut needed a few stitches, nothing more.

I sat on the edge of the bed while he stood by the window.

"How long?" I asked.

"Three months before you woke up."

He had lived three months knowing what I would do.

He had eaten breakfast beside me and waited for the key.

"Why didn't you stop me?"

"I did. Twice."

I remembered him asking me to stay home one evening.

I had accused him of keeping me prisoner.

Another time he asked whether I wanted to leave him.

I had laughed and said he should be careful what he wished.

"I didn't know you meant it," I said.

"I know."

He was not accusing me of missing a clue.

He was telling me I had been allowed to choose.

"You saw me at the gate with Carlo."

"I did."

"You still came outside alone."

"I wanted to see whose hand you took."

I looked down at my bandaged shoulder.

"I don't deserve that chance."

"I didn't give it because you deserved it."

He crossed the room and sat in the chair.

We were close enough for me to see his tired eyes.

"You shot me," he said.

I nodded.

"Carlo told me you were going to kill Gina."

"Was I?"

"No. I saw the lie before I fired."

My voice broke on the last word.

"I fired anyway because I was ashamed to turn around."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"That's the first honest thing you've said about it."

"I don't want you to make it smaller for me."

"I won't."

He said it without reaching for me.

I had feared what his anger could do.

This silence was harder because he let me keep speaking.

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