Mental Break
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Written By Secret Agent Girl and Jennifer ~
Alternating Chapters
When a young woman is discovered to be the key to the Rambaldi mystery, she is suddenly taken deep into a world that she has nearly forgotten; one filled with mental games and the most complex mystery to ever surface. She knows it all. If only she could remember.
Chapter One: Jenn
1.
She shakes with a tremble that reaches all the way down to her bones, one that reverberates her entire insides, sweeps her up and takes control of her entire being. She wishes she could see anything other than blackness, wishes she could hear anything but the constant wracking sound of a train running on a badly made track.
The wool is itchy around her eyes but her hands are tied behind her back, around the pole, anchoring her to the spot and binding her so tight she knows that this is the kind of pain she will dream about for the rest of her life. It is only intensified by the scratchy darkness and the fear that strangle her.
She clenches her throat, using all her might to push down the terror from ripping through her mouth. She has learned that noise not tolerated. The tears are soaking through the cloth, dripping down her face and onto her knee where they hesitate for a moment before rolling down into her socks.
Every breath she takes shakes and rattles as her chest rises and falls.
Her legs are asleep and have been for the past hour, pulsating with painful shivers every time she moves.
She is only 25 years old and doesn't know why she is being taken. There have been whispers in her ear, whispers laced with friendliness at times, venom at others. It is a language she can barely understand, barely has enough time to register the words and translate her answers into clumsy English.
She closes her eyes behind the cloth as she anticipates the feel of icy cold fingers descend upon her hair.
But when they land, they are warm, coaxing. And they come with the voice of a woman speaking an Italian so cultured that all she can do is listen with a relief strong enough so that she almost forgets the fact that she cannot see, that she cannot feel anything except for the nerves in her body humming with rigidity.
She feels herself moving with the beat of the train, feels herself being jostled by the steady bumps on the track.
"Who are you?" Her voice is feeble and unused, unwilling to speak louder for she has been silencing herself for hours.
The voice answers back immediately, the words measured, showing only a hint of an accent. Its melody lulls her, sweeps her back and forth though it might only be that she's moving herself around. "Someone who is trying to find out who you are."
She is confused. "Why do you want to know who I am? I'm nobody. I don't know what you want and I can tell you that I can't help you. With anything."
"No, Rachele. You have something very valuable."
Her voice becomes frenzied, speeding, spilling over the words of her natural language until her sentences are barely comprehensible. "Take it. Whatever you want. Take it," Her voice breaks. "But please. Please, take me back home."
She tenses as she feels the stroke of a mother's touch on her cheek, smoothing the trembling skin. "I don't think you understand me Rachele. What I want from you is not something you have. It's something you are. It's what you have within you that I am interested in."
She shakes her head. "You must be mistaken. I'm nothing, I'm a bastard orphan."
When the woman speaks again, she hears the smile of amusement in her voice. "Tell me who you are."
"Rachele Milia DiCarlo."
The woman shifts closer to her, squats beside this crying girl who has been robbed of her senses.
"Tell me who your mother is."
She doesn't know what to do, what to say to make this stop, to make her life go back to what it used to be. Her sobs are coming through in her answers, tumbling through them, blowing them down. "Francesca DiCarlo."
"Good. Now tell me the truth."
A sudden deep thudding begins in the darkest part of her being. She almost knows what she is supposed to say. She feels as if if she can think about it for a few more minutes, she will say the answer that will set her free. The answer is there inside of her and that is the moment she starts to fear herself.
For she now knows that this is not a mistake. She does know something. She just doesn't know what it is.
She feels the cool, soothing hands on her temples, pressing gently. She feels a sudden peace as if she is sleeping yet still aware of her surroundings. This woman has a magic touch.
"Who are you Rachele? Tell me your name."
There is still a resistance.
"Rachele Milia DiCarlo."
The voice is now a breath. "Your real name."
And the voice that answers is not her own. It comes from years ago…years when she still had a family and a right to a secret.
"Rambaldi."
Her eyes open with wonder as she feels the woman untying the cloth around her eyes, squinting at the too harsh lights of the train. Her eyes focus on the woman in front of her, smiling with some secret victory, inches away from her own face, fingers still at her temples.
"My name is Rachele Milia Rambaldi."
"Good."
TBC…
All right people, hope that you are thoroughly confused, excited, and eager to read the next chapter which will be written by Secret Agent Girl…the goddess writer of "From Two to Three" and the luverly prequels to that one.
So review and make us happy.
Deine,
~Jenn
*Becky…would love to write your idea, just e-mail it to me:
aliaswriter@hotmail.com