NORA

I don't feel good. I haven't felt good all day long, and it's not the work that's the problem. It's not even the weather, it's me.

It's me. I don't know what's wrong or why, but my entire body is hot, like it's on fire, and no matter how much I drink or how much I wipe, the heat doesn't subside. It doesn't help. Not a bit, not an inch.

I feel agitated in every way there is.

The car ride is quiet with Henry, oddly quiet, though I think I like it because I don't think I'd have the strength to have a conversation at this time.

Mrs. Sofia greets me in the hallway, a large, warm, welcoming smile on her face, which does make me feel slightly better now that she has returned. She asks me how I feel, and I tell her truthfully that I feel terrible.

At the dining table, it's just her and me this time. Maggie serves us food and I dig in without waiting or even looking at her, which I know I shouldn't do, and I'm quick to apologize for my lack of manners, but she only laughs it off

"There's always more if you want."

Compared to yesterday evening, it isn't some salad and dry pasta, so I do fill myself up quite quickly, and I don't think tonight I'll be making rounds of the kitchen. When I think of last night, I wonder about Mr. Marcelli in all the wrong and concerning ways. Which, by then, I realize that he isn't present here tonight.

"Vincenzo had some business matters to attend to, so he won't be joining us for a while." Mrs. Sofia tells me when I ask her. She doesn't meet my eyes and continues eating instead.

Oh. Okay.

It's probably better that he isn't here, to save me the embarrassment. And the shame. God, that was so awkward. At breakfast, he could see it, couldn't he?

Once I'm finished, I clean up after myself and say goodnight to Mrs. Sofia before leaving to get some rest. Unless, like the nights before, I don't really fall asleep straight away. I roll back and forth, switch on the air conditioning and then switch it off after a while, fan myself, look into my phone, and the very ironic message I had gotten when I woke this morning.

The buzzing that woke me up from that... nightmare was from Adam, a boy I had dated almost a year ago. He sent a message, wondering how I had been doing and also telling me that he just returned to town and learned about my parents' death. I paid no attention to it, considering that it had taken him months to send that message to me when I needed it long ago.

It had been a terrible breakup to begin with. He left town one night, out of nowhere, with his entire family, dropped me a message, and then never spoke again. I reread his text one more time before putting my phone aside and getting back under the thin cover I've found packed in a closet.

The thick ones were doing no good.

My mind draws a little away from the fear of getting another dream and onto the life I had before my parents died. It was good in all ways, and I would give up anything for that. Just to have it once more.

But I know, it's over. I need to pave a new path, figure out what happened, and then find a way to move on from it.

They're not coming back.

My eyes shut this time, the fatigue of the day sinking in, and a few hours of undisturbed sleep would do the trick, but it doesn't seem to be the case at all. Because right after I doze off, there's a noise from the door and I snap up straight, looking at the darkened hall behind the open door.

"Mom?" My voice comes out differently.

She steps in, looking exactly how she had been the night of the incident. I immediately jump up on my feet and run toward her. Her arms spread and she takes me into her embrace.

"Oh, I missed you!"

"I know, baby." She whispers in my ear while consoling me. "But you're doing better now."

I shake my head, denying it. "No, no, I feel terrible. I don't want to be here, I don't want to be doing any of this, Mom."

She pulls away from me, "Oh, but you've to be here. You have to know."

"Know what? Tell me, what happened? What attacked you? Or who?" I beg her to answer. That's the reason why she's here, isn't she? She can tell me.

"It's not the time."

"Mom, please. I'm tired, and I want to go back home."

"You can't go back, Nora." Her fingers dig a little more into my shoulder as she continues in a deeper, rougher voice. "You can never go back there. This is where you belong, with these people, here."

"No—"

"Nora, you can't go back." She repeats, eyes wide.

"Mom—"

"Promise me," I feel something sharp piercing into my skin, deeper and deeper. "Promise me you're not going to back. There's nothing for you there."

I hiss at the pain that shoots up my spine. "I won't, I won't."

"Good, because if you do, they'll—" Before she can finish, a sharp wind blows, and I can feel her being pushed away, further and further from my reach.

Everything turns black, and all I can hear is her voice screaming and then fading away. I keep running across every hallway I can find, trying to get to her, but there is no avail. She never comes into my view again.

"Mom!" I scream, running into a dark hallway, where there are no windows or lights.

Suddenly, my face slams into something hard and solid, and I stumble back from the impact before looking up at the pair of eyes that I know too well.

My breaths come out in short gasps, and I can see Mr. Marcelli standing right there. I try to move past him, but he catches my wrist and stops me.

"She's gone."

"No," I try to break free. "She was just here."

"She's not here anymore, Nora." He pulls me closer. "There's no one here except you and me."

I push his chest, "I have to go, she was right there. You can't do this—" And he grabs hold of my arm tighter and then yanks me toward himself.

"You're not going anywhere."

Tears stream across my face, "Please, please. I need to find her." My voice lowers to barely a whisper.

"She's gone." His hands come up to my face, and he wipes my cheek. My vision blurs from the tears, but I still see him clearly. "But I'm here. Don't worry, I'll always be here. I'll help you. I'll make it easier for you. Trust me."

The way he says it makes me feel things. I lean in, taking in his scent, the warmth his hands provide, the heat of his body. It is comforting in an odd way.

He doesn't stop, and his thumb traces down my neck and collarbone and lower until it reaches the front of my shirt. I want to move away, I want to leave, I want to go to, but my body doesn't. Instead, it does the complete opposite.

I lean in closer.

And that's enough for his fingers to find the hem and pull it down.

"You're going to let me, aren't you?" he murmurs into my ears. "Because you trust me."

My body melts in his arms. "Yes..." The words fall out of my mouth in a whisper.

His lips trail down, over my jaw and then my neck, his teeth grazing against the skin. "Yes, what?" The warmth from his breath trickles down my neck. "Use your words." His hands begin moving down from my waist to my hips.

I swallow, "I... I trust you."

"Good. That's what I want to hear."

The next moment, his teeth sink into my neck, and my entire body convulses in a strange way it has never done before. It doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt at all. Instead, I can feel pleasure rushing up my spine and then down straight between my legs.

This time, it's not a wet dream. No. It's different. Something else entirely.

I wake up, drenched and hot. And wetter than I've ever been. My hands are twisted between my thighs, and it takes me a second to realize that I've already half-worked myself.

I quickly pull away and storm off the bed as my chest rises and falls. No. This can't keep happening. I can't keep dreaming of him like that.

I rush toward the window and, with an odd strength that I've never known of, I snap the latch and push it open, letting cold air rush in and fill up my lungs.

I desperately gasp for it, hoping that it clears the filth in my mind and saves me.

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