Does It Hurt?: An Enemies to Lovers Romance
Does It Hurt?: Chapter 24

They say you’re never supposed to sleep with concussions. That’s common knowledge. But I’ve reached the point where I don’t care if it makes me brain dead, I’d rather be knocked out than listen to this.

There’s someone—something—weeping on the third floor, right above us. Enzo said it’s the ghost of Sylvester’s daughter, Trinity, who hung herself outside our window.

Sylvester said she cried a lot.

And her cries are making me feel physically nauseous. They’re muffled, but they sound strange. Almost like’s she’s trying to scream but can’t.

Enzo lays beside me, stiff as a board, as he stares up at the ceiling. We’re both on our backs, wide awake and disturbed.

“What do you think is worse? Suffering in life, or suffering in death?” I ask, my voice cracked and uneven.

“Death,” he answers quietly. “Then, it’s eternal.”

I turn to look at him. “Do you believe in an afterlife? You must, right? Since you were raised by nuns.”

He shakes his head. “I believe our souls either move on to somewhere unknown, get stuck, or reincarnate into another body. I never believed in what they did. They hoped God would heal my wounds and guide me in life. Thought I’d eventually become a priest and tell people my story and how I overcame it. But the more I read the Bible, the more lost I became.”

I roll to my side to face him and tuck my hands under my head. He sighs, sensing the onslaught of questions, but I’m undeterred.

“What was it like growing up?”

“It’s not an interesting story, bella.”

“It’s interesting to me,” I argue. “Tell me.”

He frowns, making me wonder if Enzo has ever let anyone get close to him. He keeps people at arm’s length, too afraid they’ll hurt him. And the fact that I did hurt him makes me want to stab myself in the eye.

“After mia madre left me on the steps, I was taken to the Istituto Sacro Cuore, where I was raised and went to school. Every day was prescheduled. I woke up at 7 AM for prayers. Would eat breakfast at 8, then start schooling at 8:30. After, I’d eat dinner and get one hour to say prayers before bed. Just to do it all over again the next day.”

There’s a thump from above, causing me to jump and sending my heart flying in my throat. Trinity is still crying, and it sounds like she’s beginning to grow angry.

“What about your father? He didn’t care that she left you?” I ask hesitantly, nervous the question will anger him.

“He died while she was pregnant with me. He was a fisherman. He and his crew got caught up in a severe storm one night. Waves got so high, it’s a miracle the boat didn’t go under. But there was one that sent six men overboard. There one second, gone the next. Mio padre was among those men. It hasn’t slipped my notice that I nearly died the same way.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Don’t be. I never knew him, but at least he gave me my love for the sea.”

I nod slowly. “Did you have any friends in school, at least?”

There’s a slight grin. “I did. There were a few others that weren’t too keen on the lifestyle.”

“You got in a lot of trouble, didn’t you?” I gather, imagining a younger version of Enzo sneaking out at night, drinking liquor straight from the bottle, and slipping through the windows of blushing girls.

The last part makes me a little jealous, but I’m not sure if it’s because I didn’t know him then and he wasn’t slipping through my window, or if it’s because I never got to experience things like that growing up.

Kevin never allowed me to have friends. He never allowed me to live.

“We did,” he says. “Not as much as I would’ve liked, though.”

“It sounds mundane.”

He hums, a deep, rumbling sound of amusement. “It was, which is exactly why I acted out. Everything is a sin in Catholicism. I was sexually repressed, but considering I refused to conform, I sure as hell wasn’t going to allow them to take pleasure from me, too. I attended confessions more times than I could count. I asked for forgiveness, but I never really wanted it.”

I snort. “I bet the nuns loved you,” I tease.

“They hated me,” he says with mirth. “Most of them, anyway.”

“Which one raised you? Or did they all?”

“They all played a part, but suor Caterina was who raised me primarily.”

“Did you have a good relationship with her?”

“She did her best with a child who didn’t want to be there and made it very well known. She was nice to me but distant. She wanted me to become something I wasn’t—to believe in someone I couldn’t understand. I frustrated her, and she… wasn’t my mother.”

Sadness pulls the corners of my mouth down, imagining a younger version of Enzo. Lost, sad, and angry because he couldn’t understand why he was there. Couldn’t understand why he wasn’t good enough for his mother.

He was never raised in an environment that showed him unconditional love and warmth, so the hole in his chest only deepened.

“You felt like a burden,” I surmise.

“I didn’t know how to be anything else,” he states plainly.

That’s a punch to the chest. I bite my lip and reach down, slipping my fingers into his and squeezing tightly. His hand is so much larger than mine, and I wish I could hold it forever.

So badly, I want to show him the warmth and love that he deserved. That he deserves.

But I don’t want to hurt him more than I already have and give him something I don’t know he can keep.

He doesn’t squeeze back, but he doesn’t reject me, and that’s enough.

“Were you ever happy?”

“No,” he murmurs. “Not until I moved to Australia. When I learned about great whites, I was instantly enraptured by them—obsessed, even. Suor Caterina knew I would never give myself to God, so she gave me what money she could spare, helped me get a visa, and sent me to Australia about a month after my eighteenth birthday. It was the only time I felt like she might have truly cared for me. I got a job working at a bait and tackle shop, put myself through university, and worked my ass off. That… that was when I was happiest. Broke, alone, but in the ocean, doing what I loved.”

He finally looks at me, but his expression is on lockdown. It’s only now that I notice the crying from above has stopped, replaced by a tense silence. It makes me nervous, yet with Enzo right beside me, I’ve never felt safer.

“Were you ever happy?” he asks, turning the question onto me.

I twist my lips, contemplating that.

“When I was younger, yeah. Before Kevin changed. We used to have fun playing together. Back then, he was nice to me, and my parents weren’t disappointed in me.”

“Why were they disappointed?”

“I wasn’t him,” I say, bitterness leaking into my tone. “Once he started abusing me, I became withdrawn. I was rebellious, while he was the perfect angel. They wanted their sweet little girl back, but they wouldn’t listen when I said their sweet little boy was the one who broke me.”

I can’t see his eyes, but I can feel the anger emanating from him.

“When they died, I was almost glad for it,” I admit. “Because at least then, I didn’t have to convince them that I wasn’t a liar anymore. Funny, that’s exactly who I became when I finally got away from him.”

“Yet, he still haunts you.”

I nod. “Just as your mother haunts you.”

A dimple on the side of his cheek appears.

“Then maybe we could show each other how to let go, yeah?”

I bite my lip, a flood of emotion rising up my throat. I’m still terrified, still convinced there’s no way Enzo can get me out from Kevin’s hold, but I want to let him try, even if it’s selfish.

“Yeah,” I croak, my voice hoarse with unshed tears.

He faces the ceiling again. “Start by telling me the things that make you happy now.”

I smile softly. “Senile Suzy makes me happy. It’s an old Volkswagen van I bought when I first came to Port Valen. I left her in Valen’s Bend campground, and I think she’s going to be gone by the time I get back.” That hurts a little, so I forge on. “Simon makes me happy, too. He’s the one that gave me my tattoo on my thigh. I hardly know him, but he’s the first friend I’ve ever had.”

He’s quiet for a beat, then he says, “They’ll be there waiting for you,” he vows. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The tears are threatening to spill over so I replace something else to say before they do.

“Hey, Enzo?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad that you found peace. At least until you met me,” I say, ending with a sardonic snort.

There’s a brief pause before he lets loose the softest chuckle, causing my stomach to somersault.

“You’re right. You’ve brought chaos into my life.”

And then, finally, he closes his hand around mine, squeezing back.

“I like it, bella.”