Chapter 2 ISABELLA'S TORMENT

The house's air always feels too heavy, as if it's holding its breath in anticipation of the next slip-up. Giovanni walks in front of me, his eyes crazed and his fists clenched. Every action is a violent cascade that is just ready to blow up. My heart is pounding erratically, a prisoner of his erratic rage.

With words as piercing as shards of glass, he spits, "You think you can talk to your friends?" "You believe you can do anything you want?"

The walls around me close in as I shrink back. The space feels more constrained. I'm having trouble breathing.

"I didn't," I start, but he interrupts.

"You weren't asked to speak!" The house echoes with his voice. The sound seems like a slap on my flesh, and I wince.

I look down, hoping this will be over soon. I'm hoping he won't bother me. But I'm trapped in the middle, powerless, while his rage is a storm.

As he approaches, his pupils dilate and his eyes narrow. His breath smells hot and sour from the whisky. The air between us is choked by the odor of it.

My body trembles as I take a step back, but he continues. He reaches out and grabs me by the wrist. His fingers are like a vice, biting into my flesh.

"Is Isabella understanding me?" He growls in his voice. "Without me, you are nothing. Nobody else is going to love you.

His remarks creep inside of me and round my ribcage. I want to scream and fight back, but I'm unable to do so. I'm not permitted.

He tightens his hold, and I start to lose control. The horror stops me in my tracks, even though I want to scream.

His hand suddenly swings across my face, causing my ears to ring from the slap. His fury is etched on my flesh, causing my cheek to swell and hurt.

With my heart pounding, I withdraw to the room's corner. His remarks, icy and unrelenting, reverberate in my head.

And I am aware of...

I am nothing.

I'm sitting in front of the mirror, gazing at my no longer-me reflection. The spot where his hand landed on my cheek still burns. The internal pain isn't going away, even though the red mark is already disappearing. It goes beyond the physical. It isn't.

"Without me, you are worthless." Giovanni's words sliced like a razor into my brain. "You believe you will be loved by someone else? Isabella, you'll be by yourself. You'll be alone forever.

Why I believe him is a mystery to me. I ought to defend myself. I should run, shout, and get out. However, I'm too worn out. Too damaged.

I move my finger slowly and almost detachedly over the outline of the bruise that is developing on my cheek. This is not the first instance. It will not be the final one.

I no longer recognize myself. Not in this mirror. Not here at home. When he's not staring at me, I'm not sure who I am. when he isn't in complete control of me.

It feels strange to see my reflection looking back at me. A woman I've never met, with a smile that never extends past the corners of her mouth and an empty expression in her eyes.

I try to grin, but it's not natural. I feel as though I'm wearing an overly tight mask. Too heavy.

Without him, who am I?

The question suffocates me as it lingers in the air.

Freedom is what I desire. I'd want to go for a run. However, I'm not sure how. I'm not sure whether I can recall what life was like without him.

There is no response from the woman in the mirror.

I look at her till the quiet becomes too much to bear.

I paint over the bruises every day. I act as though I'm alright every night.

I use concealer, foundation, and other cosmetics to hide my visible scars and give the impression that I'm normal. When I must, I laugh. When they tell me I look pretty, I smile.

It's all a lie, though.

I'm still that broken girl from before in the quiet times. The one who believed she could make a difference. who believed that love was sufficient.

However, love does not injure you. You don't feel inferior as a result.

Although it's unseen, Giovanni has a firm hold on me. I can't say no because of it. Like when he yells, I froze.

I keep silent because it's safer that way. I'm less likely to say something incorrectly the less I talk.

His voice is a deep rumble, and I can hear him in the adjacent room. His rage was constantly brewing beneath the surface, ready to explode at any time.

It's a prison house.

I am unable to go. All the doors are locked. All the windows are blocked. He has ensured that. He has ensured that I am stuck in this house and in this life.

I occasionally ponder whether I could escape.

Then I hear him shouting once more, his voice like a blade piercing the walls. And I'm aware that I can't. Not quite yet. Not with the way he makes me feel like I'll make a mistake in everything I do.

I wish I'd had the guts to leave. However, you can't discover courage in a cage.

I hear him.

I am aware that it is not yet over.

It was a harmless phone call. A buddy enquired about my well-being. A brief discussion on nothing, the weather, and the past.

Giovanni, however, heard it.

It was too late when I finally saw him. His face twisted in anger; he stormed into the room.

With his breath hot against my neck, he said, "Who are you talking to?"

I got a cold. I tightened my throat.

I muttered, "No one," but he ignored me. He reached out and grabbed me by the wrist.

"Liar," he spat out. "With whom are you betraying me?"

I was having trouble breathing. My legs trembled under me as my chest tightened.

"I wasn't,"

His palm was on my face before I could finish, and I was slammed against the wall. Stars were visible to me. My head rang.

He growled and snarled, "You'll pay for this."

Fear gripped my chest like iron, and I fell to the ground.

I couldn't get away from him. I was unable to even move.

I felt the chilly tile under my palms as I gazed at the floor.

And I wasn't sure I wanted to battle anymore for the first time.

Giovanni leaves, and silence descends over the room. His footsteps reverberate along the corridor.

It's the quietest I've ever experienced. It's oppressive.

I pull my knees to my chest as I sit in the room's corner. My mind is broken, and my body is damaged. Although I had previously experienced his rage, this time was unique. Something broke inside of me.

I'm unable to stay. I am no longer able to do this.

However, the idea of leaving scares me.

The bag on the bed is my focus. I have some clothes packed. Not much. Just enough to escape.

Where do I go, though?

It feels like a trap at every exit. I could fall back into his arms with every stride I take.

I close my eyes, wipe away my tears, and take a big breath.

Now is the time.

I must go. I must run.

My hands shake as I stand.

Where, though?