Part 18

                                    

                                          
"We gotta talk."
It was never a good first sentence. It didn't inspire confidence, it didn't make her feel good. It actually worsened the feeling in the pit of her stomach. Already, the nausea was impossible to control - to the point she feared she might have to do something before she gave herself away.
Now this?
Why did they need to talk?
"About what?"
Initially, she had welcomed Isabella's intervention. She had sensed an anger swirling inside Niccolo and he had appeared to be focused on provoking her. If she were honest with herself, he had succeeded in causing her to lose her temper.
So, she had been more than happy to slip away while he stayed behind.
But now she wondered if Isabella's excuse had been nothing more than bullshit. What had she told him? What had she done? No, no, she couldn't have told him... she didn't - she didn't even seem to like Niccolo. And she had gotten everything she wanted. So why fuck it up now?
"Are you kidding me?"
"Niccolo, I don't wanna play games. I don't know what you want."
"You don't know what I want? I let you get away the other day. I wanna know what you're lying about."
"I'm not lying about anything."
"So you're happy to move on with your life then, Gabby?"
"I wanna move on. Isn't that what you wanted? I thought you wanted me to live. So what's the problem?"
"I'll tell you what the fucking problem is. The fucking problem is how you don't give a shit."
"Niccolo, I never, ever fucking asked you to do anything."
"Did you stop me?′
"Excuse me?"
"Did you ever stop me? Did you try to run off on your own and do it?"
"I-"
"I fucking broke my back kissing that asshole's ass for your sake. You were so fucking busy being a broken little porcelain doll. He could have done anything to you. And when he tried, who the fuck helped you out of the jam?"
"I killed him!" she defended.
"After I fucking told you."
"Oh, what, that's it? I need you to save me all the time? You don't think I can make it without you? You're mad because my whole fucking world isn't you? That I might want more than this?"
"More than what? A few fucking days ago, you didn't even want anything!"
She didn't want to do this, she didn't want to have this conversation. It was a dangerous conversation to have - she might spill, she might say the wrong thing. She was exhausted. Everything in her body screamed for rest. She couldn't even remember the last proper night of sleep she had.
But the words had been spoken, the floodgates opened, and now they stood on the precipice of a confrontation that had been brewing beneath the surface for far too long.
"Niccolo, this isn't about wanting more. It's about survival," Gabriella retorted, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desperation. "I can't survive if I stay in this world. I can't - I won't. It's always death and it will never change. No matter how much power you think you have, someone is always gonna try to top it."
It was the truth. Yes, it included the child in her womb, but - it was the truth. Even if she stayed by his side, how long until someone did to him what was being done to others? Hadn't she found him half dead on the side of the road once? It would never be over.