My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 5 Escape by Marita A. Hansen

 
     
    1
    Thierry
    Alberto kept on hitting Bianca and I
couldn’t do a thing to stop him. He was at least twice my weight
and way taller, the man a terrifying nightmare. Bianca slipped down
the wall as he struck her again, what I saw making me want to cry.
Her face was unrecognizable, her nose smashed, and the blood ... it
was everywhere: her face, her hair, her dress—and covering
Alberto’s knuckles.
    Alberto yelled at her in Italian, then
kicked her, making me want to scream at him to stop, stop, STOP!
But I knew if I did he would do the same to me, so instead I took
off up the staircase and sprinted for Frano’s room. Bianca had told
me to go to him earlier, but I couldn’t think straight at the time,
because I’d just killed two people, the wine that I had served them
poisoned. But I didn’t want those men to die, the wine was meant
for Alberto, and I also didn’t understand why the older man had
died since I’d only seen Bianca poison one of the glasses.
Everything was just so confusing. And although I knew the men who
had died were bad, even evil, they were going to be mourned, the
youngest brother’s wails heartbreaking. I could still hear them in
my mind, his grief over his dead father and brother cutting me in
two, his broken voice an echo of my own broken past, my maman having also passed
away from poison, heroine in her case.
    Tears ran down my face as I
entered Frano’s room. He was lying on his bed with a sheet up to
his chest, fast asleep. He looked so perfect, the complete opposite
of his brother. I didn’t understand how Frano and Alberto could be
related, especially since they looked nothing alike. Alberto
resembled an ugly Rodin sculpture, roughly hewn with big brows and
an unpolished veneer, whereas Frano was perfect, his face hard to
look away from, his black hair, his hazel eyes, and that smile he always
gave me—it meant so much to me, making me feel special instead of a
burden.
    I closed the door behind me and ran
over to Frano, shaking his shoulders. He remained fast asleep. I
shook him harder. “Frano, wake up.”
    Alberto’s booming voice came
from downstairs, making me jump, my heart stopping as he yelled out
my name. I froze, utterly terrified as he hollered it again along
with profanities, one of them sounding similar to the French word
for shit: “ Merde ” but with an ‘a’ at the end, although all I could think
about was what it sounded like in English— murder .
    “ I’m going to fucking kill
you !”
Alberto hollered, his voice drawing closer. It sounded like he was
walking up the staircase, the boom, boom, boom of his heavy step
matching my heart beat. Doors started slamming, telling me he was
searching all of the rooms. “Where are you, fenucca?!” he yelled, calling me a faggot,
something I’d learned while walking through the market.
    S napping out of my frozen state, I shook
Frano again, desperate for him to wake up. “Frano, please wake
up, pleeease ...” I said into his ear, too scared to raise my
voice.
    Alberto’s voice
d rew even
closer. I looked over at the door, realizing I hadn’t locked it.
Another door slammed, this one belonging to the adjacent room. My
eyes shot to the bathroom, wondering if I could hide in there. No,
he’d look, I was sure of it, then he’d kill me. My gaze moved to
the window, remembering the fire escape ladder outside, every
bedroom having one. With my heart in my throat, I ran to the window
and opened it wide, then ran back to the bed, quickly crawling
underneath it.
    The door opened a second later, then
heavy footsteps filled the room, so loud, but not as loud as my
pounding heart. I touched my chin to the floor and peered out from
under the bed, praying that Alberto didn’t look down, because if he
did he would see me, the sheet not hanging over the bed low
enough.
    He walked to the window, his
curses telling me he thought I’d climbed out . He then went into the
bathroom, the sound of water following. I imagined him