Page 248 of Valentino

Three shots.

Blood splatters all over the shower screen, all over her.

“Val.” Her face falls. “What are you doing, it’s not how it looks. I love you.”

I hold it to her head. “Please don’t,” she begs.

I pull the trigger, three times.

The water runs red as her blood washes down the drain….

I gasp out loud as I sit up in a rush, with my panicked heart slamming hard against my chest, my eyes dart around in the darkened room.

Quiet and still….

There’s no Carlo, no gun, no blood running down the drain….

No Anna.

I throw the back of my forearm over my perspiration-clad face, wiling myself to calm down.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump….

Eventually, my heart rate slows, my breathing regulates, but the vision of the blood running down the drain remains, lingering in the darkness of my soul.

Am I okay?

Is this what a mental breakdown feels like?

Am I in the middle of some kind of psychosis that’s making me have the most horrendous nightmares, so real and vivid that I can almost taste the blood?

Fuck.

I drag myself out of bed and make my way out into the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of water and walk back into the living room. I flick on the television and scroll through the channels. I’ve learnt that the best way to fall back asleep is to not try at all. Lately, in the witching hours I watch miniseries on Netflix, anything that will let me escape the depravity of my mind is a win.

I stare at the television, maybe I should go see someone?

A doctor or a shrink or a…and tell them what?

Every night I dream of killing my childhood best friend who hates me…. And the love of my life that I don’t have…. Because I catch them together in the shower.

I clench my jaw and change the channel.

I’m fine. Everything is fine.

I can do hard things, and this too shall pass.

I copy and paste the request and attach it to my email.

“Hey.” Giuliano walks into my office and sits down at my desk.

“Hi.” I keep typing.

“Okay, hit me.”