somedays before

Beatrice Sartori

Exactly three days ago he left without even saying a word that could mend any of the parts of my broken heart, how stupid I was for a moment to imagine looking into the abyss and not being swallowed. It's strange how his absence becomes a welcome respite, some kind of twisted calm amid yet another storm, for someone made up of lies living within one is like a normal day.

So, being trapped in the basement like an animal, in a small room provided only with a cupboard, a table, and some cloths that were thrown so that she could sleep on them if she could be grateful for the clemency given, it's just the fact of having a bathroom and not needing to smell your urine.

Surviving yet another déjà vu of what life has been like in recent years, an endless cycle of pain and misfortune, at what moment did I allow myself to think that I could live something beyond that?

I never imagined that everything would be as bad as it once was, the moment I was introduced to Stefano I knew I was handing my life over to a bad man, after all, what mafia man would be good... And no matter how naive he was or try to be, I still had a little hope saved, for some stupid reason, of having a good marriage and a life of queen next to the next Don, that hope was extinguished right at the beginning of our marriage seven years ago.

I saw how dreams are killed and hope is lost, every day that man, in his every decision, was capable of destroying my faith. The most incredible thing is to notice how, in front of others, no one could even imagine their demonic capacity or the darkness that hides behind the most beautiful faces, but believing in beauty was the first mistake. In this dark, humid, and windowless place hidden inside our own house, built only by its perverse idealization in wanting to fulfill all its desires by having a prisoner chained before marriage within the mafia, someone to take out its fury, make it beg and break the soul in the most diverse ways.

I'm trapped inside my desires, taking all the lies as lessons in a long apprenticeship, making my mind boil with crazy ideas in an abused body that begs for a little rest and some care. Even though it's an unattainable dream.

Evil hides in a sordid way by infiltrating beneath beautiful faces decorated in fake pearls, creating the perfect decoration for those who need a single light to keep hope alive. I do have a brilliant, faithful husband who I can always smile at for his kindness in front of others. Of course, I snorted because I know Don Sartori would never punish the sole heir for training his wife far enough from the council. The pains I feel spread throughout my body, in any movement I make, only shows how much he is capable of doing shady deals using me as a bargaining chip, willing to carry out his daily humiliations.

This has been my life since I was sixteen, to be Stefano Sartori's luxury whore decked in diamonds by day and beaten by night, carrying the title of wife would be very inappropriate considering the life I lead. That's what we are, fertile wombs, golden cunts born to marry the heirs, sold to form alliances. Women are judged by other women in an endless cycle of hate just for being a woman.

Seeing how this pattern continues to repeat itself I feel that death seems more attractive today than going on like this...

I remember the moment when the first beating came after a family party, Stefano said he noticed my glances at one of the capos.

huff.

It's not like I can look anywhere above my head without being accused of cheating.

They are long years of which I endure being molested, raped, and beaten by a man of extreme beauty, bright eyes that guard a demon, making declarations about a non-existent love, a man who was able to buy our marriage, like someone going to a supermarket doing the day's shopping, demanding to have his acquisition even before coming of age, his fixation mixed with an obsession with me completely sick he is someone sick, soulless who feeds hatred every day, turning me into someone as sick as he is.

Not even at the age of sixteen, during the honeymoon, did I manage to delude myself more, as I discovered that I had married the devil himself. And it's those memories that consume what's left of the soul.

I entered the room next to him, after the wedding party in one of the noblest halls in the city, I was a little afraid, after all, it would be our first night as a married couple, his imposing presence making my backburn with his gaze.

In a moment I stopped in front of the bed and suddenly I was on the floor with her hands wrapped around her braided hair, I felt the strands being ripped out as I was pulled across the room, and without having the opportunity to stand again I was dragged tearing the dress at my knees only to be tossed onto the bed like a doll.

His deep voice echoing through the walls of the room made my mind go crazy trying to understand what I could have done to attract his wrath.

“I have a wedding present for you, wife.” The affectionate way he stroked my cheek left me sitting there.

I felt my body trembling and tried to follow the quick movements around the room, noticing the luggage placed next to a huge sofa.

When his gaze turned toward me, those blue eyes gleamed like morning from a sunny sky causing a twinge of relief, and hope. Undoing our distance by placing himself between my legs, his hands affectionately came over my cheek, wiping away the path taken by the tears. His voice came out softly, like a caress.

"Xiiiuuuu princess, I promise to try not to hurt" – I noticed that her eyes sparkled.

" You already hurt me husband" - I replied in a whisper, seeking some ounce of courage, because that was the truth.

“If you hadn't spent the entire wedding looking at one of the De Angelis, this wouldn't have happened.

Confusion took over my mind, his words and actions attracted a movie in my head in search of remembering, I was aware that I didn't look at anyone but him wearing a gray suit highlighting his blue eyes like the sea, the perfect smile causing strange sensations in my chest.

I was only allowed to watch and worship my husband, I understood that early enough.

I was awakened from my daydreams when I felt his left hand squeezing my neck, stealing the air.

"Don't try to deny amore mio, I saw it – He spoke bringing his face closer, licked my cheek, and said in my ear" — And for that, I'm going to punish you so that you learn to be a good wife.

I screamed sticking my head between my knees trying to escape the memories, because the first times are the ones that really hurt, the ones that destroyed an innocent heart and stole my soul.