Part 13

                                    

                                          
The room was barely lit, with the orange morning light leaking through the poorly closed curtains. Gabriella slowly opened her eyes, her head pounding, and her body trembling with a mix of guilt and sickness.
As her vision adjusted, she noticed the somewhat familiar surroundings of her new room. The air felt heavy with unresolved tension and mistrust.
Her heart sank as the events of the previous night came rushing back to her. The realization of what she had done settled in her gut like a heavy stone. She had stabbed Sebastien to death.
She stumbled out of bed and rushed towards the nearby bathroom, barely making it in time before she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. No matter how much she purged whatever was swirling inside of her, it didn't erase what she felt.
Puking didn't change a damn thing.
Feeling weak and disoriented, Gabriella washed her face and splashed cold water on her pale complexion. As she straightened up, she noticed a figure standing near the doorway—Niccolo, half-dressed and clean.
His blue eyes held a distant and guarded expression, his face a mask of indifference. He'd gone back. She remembered. She'd been in the car - puking again - and he'd returned. There had been blood splatters on him...
New ones. Fresh ones. On his face.
They hadn't been from Sebastien or her - so it had left one target only.
Niccolo glanced at Gabriella briefly, then averted his gaze, his voice laced with a detached nonchalance. "Didn't think you'd wake up."
Gabriella's stomach churned again, this time with a potent mixture of emotions. She felt anger toward her grandmother for the manipulations and lies that had led to this moment. She felt shame for the terrible things she had done, the consequences of which she couldn't yet fully grasp.
There was a but.
Gabriella could have walked out at any point, and she hadn't. She stayed and she did it.
Tears filled up in her eyes as she struggled to find the words. "No one forced me to do it." She cleared her throat. "If I had walked out... I don't know what she was trying to prove but... I wasn't gonna let her win."
She had to prove to Isabella she could do it.
She had to prove to herself that she would never not do it.
One time - one time. She didn't go far enough and she lost everything. Not again. Though did it count... if Niccolo finished the job?
"Did you do it?"
Niccolo's expression hardened, his walls reinforced. He shrugged dismissively, a defensive shield rising around him. "Do what?"
"Kill. Vincent."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"What do you mean why?"
She didn't even know what she meant. She didn't know anything.
"Why did you kill him?"
"You didn't look like you were ready for round two."
She hadn't been. She had wanted to be - if she had started with that fucker... then she could have at least taken out the two of them. No one would have had to finish what she started."
"Pretty sure your good old grandma would have done it if I hadn't. Figured you'd prefer it were me."
Niccolo wasn't wrong.