COLD TRAP

MATTEO

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There’s power in self reflection, to take a moment and look at how far you’ve come, how you have transformed into a better or a ridiculously worst version of yourself. To give yourself credit for conquering all your demons and waking from that nightmare.

As I stand by this window and try my best to self reflect, the only question that plagues my mind is, where have my head been in the past

I

month?

I watch my wife as she trembles from the cold, I look at her and see how much damage I’ve done to her both physically, emotionally, and mentally.

I ask myself how much of a monster I truly am to have done this to an innocent woman. The same woman I saw her pictures and felt the need to be close to; the same one I wanted to become my wife and I have an opportunity to have her as my wife but look what I’ve done to her.

What differentiates me now from the people I detest the most? The people who derive pleasure in hurting others?

The people who hurt me.

The people who hurt her.

I’m just the same as them. Those dark thoughts, they always catch up to me no matter how far away I try to run from them.

I had every opportunity to get to know my wife in the past month, but I allowed anger and pride cloud my sense of reasoning. Shame is too little of a word to describe how I feel at this point. How I felt when I saw her attempting an escape.

I didn’t think I’d feel so devastated if she left.

Only now did I realize.

My heart sank into my stomach when I found Mirabella trying to escape from me, but instead of talking it out with her, I allowed myself to act impulsively and pushed her out in the cold. All I can do now is watch her as she gets weak with each passing minute.

I can only watch because I’m a prideful bastard.

F**ki

I’m just as f**d up.

I watch Mirabella intently as she gives up her struggle to be let into the house. She walks all the way to the front yard and lay down on the cold ground, probably surrendering herself to death.

What is more heart breaking is that she knows I’m watching her suffer. How does she feel right now? Does she hate me? Does she think me a

monster?

There are so many questions flooding my mind,

As I attempt to step away from the window, my phone vibrates in my pocket and I take it out to find my father calling

I answer and we get into a deep, long, exhausting conversation…mostly about work He tells me to return home as soon as I can because it

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is time for me to finally take over as the head of my family.

I and my father talk for what seem like hours until I totally forget that my wife is outside in the freezing cold.

“You should come with Annabella for the occasion,” My father says in what seems like an order.

“Who?” I ask.

“Annabella, your wife?” His voice a bit concerned and I wouldn’t blame him. “You do remember you got married a month ago?”

“Yes father, I do. Pardon my forgetfulness, I have a lot on my plate these days.”

“How’s she anyway?” Father asks and only then did I look out the window again.

F**k!

I narrow my eyes to slits. She’s not moving, why’s she not moving?

My breath picks up its pace and I hurriedly hang up the phone. My legs move as fast as they can, barely hitting the floor and in a split second I’m out the door making my way to Mirabella.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

I lift her off the cold ground bridal style and she’s as cold as ice. I gulp harshly as I call out her name ‘her real name’ but she doesn’t answer.

I fucking killed her.

Fucking Christ, not again.

“Stay with me,” I murmur.

“F**g stay with me. Please.”

I run as fast as I can, and the moment we’re inside I put her down by the fire place as I call for the maids. My house turn into a mad house in about a minute, everyone doing everything they can to get my wife to wake up before the doctor arrives but nothing.

“God I’m **g sorry. Just stay with me.”

She’s as lifeless as can be and the only solace I have is the weak pulse I feel each time I check.

She’s alive but could die any minute.

Jesus Christ.

The doctor arrives after a few minutes and does everything medically possible to stabilize her. Mirabella remains unconscious but the doctor assures me there’s nothing to fear. The doctor warns that I do not allow her around cold environments for the time being seeing that she’s prone to a pneumonia infection.

I carefully listen to the doctor’s instructions, write them down even like my life depends on it.

Of course, my life depends on it; Mirabella is my wife and my wife is my life.

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Exactly two days ago, my wife passed out from the cold and she has stayed unconscious ever since. I know for sure she’s alive seeing that she very often whimpers in her sleep; which seems to concern me a little too much.

I watch her as she sleeps peacefully but that peace is stripped from her soon enough. I notice her shutting her eyes tightly as her lips move ever so subtly like she’s mumbling words.

Of course my heart is gladdened, knowing that she’s making an effort to come awake. But all the joy I feel seizes when she stiffens for a good minute before she begins clawing at the sheets.

She screams the word ‘No’ over and over again as tears stream down her face. It hit me. She’s having a nightmare.

I sit by her bed and lean down, snaking my arms around her back and lifting her upper body to meet my torso. I hold Mirabella against my torso in a hug while I whisper soothing words to her with my fingers gently stroking her hair.

“It’s okay, I’m here. Just open your eyes. None of it is real.”

If anything. I’m one person who perfectly and completely understands the difficulty of not having peace in your sleep.

Whatever was done to my wife was truly something of great impact and I have to figure it out as soon as I can.

Mirabella snakes her arms around me and holds me tightly as she let out sobs. “Please help me. Don’t let him do it,” she sniffles and I bite

down hard on my bottom lip in attempt to tame the emotions surging through me.

She cries a little longer and deafening silence ensues in the room.

Mirabella stiffens against me and I’m immediately aware that she’s fully awake and probably in shock as to why I’m holding her in a hug. “Matteo?” She breathes out and I hum.

“I’ll do better.” I say the words before I can decipher it and curse myself. I wonder if that even is the right thing to say at this point.

“What?”

I’m unable to let go of Mirabella. She feels like home, the smell of her, her voice as rough as it sounds at the moment, her warmth; she is

home.

I

“I’ve been a terrible human being and husband and I truly regret my actions,” a muscle feathers in my jaw, “I’ll become better.”

She’s still holding onto me.

Is her heart beating as fast as mine? My brain is in too much chaos to understand even a thing going on.

“You should…”I hear her swallow hard as she grips my shoulders, slightly pushing me away.

I bury my head into the crook of her neck and m**e, “please.”

“Matteo you

just.” Mirabella struggles in my grip.

“Let go, I can’t breathe,” she chokes out and only then did I realize how hard I’ve been pressing her against me.

F**k.

Why do I always lose control?

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I know Mirabella wants me to leave and I can’t fault her. “Is it possible that you’re ready in an hour? We’re leaving for Sicily.”

She hums and lies back down, her eyes still closed and I know it’s because she’s hiding her true identity from me. And one thing I know is that this whole charade has become very difficult for her.

“Make sure you don’t stay in the shower too long. I’ll get your clothes ready and your bags are packed,” I mutter and she hums. Again.

“I’ll leave it to you then? Be careful in there.”

This is what guilt feels like. It is eating me up from the inside and I don’t know how long I can survive this anymore.

Maybe it’s time to let her go. Would be better than subjecting her to this torture.