Disclaimer: I do not own the Evil Within. This story will contain, sexual themes, violence, harm to children, and dark themes. Viewer discretion is advised.
…
….
…
"Stef, come see this!"
"Coming…"
"Come on, hurry!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming!… What is it, Lucie?"
"Come look… Well?"
"… It's just pond water."
"Just pond water?! Do you know what day it is?"
"I don't think so."
"Remember mama's story, about how on the brightest day of summer the pond will shine so brightly that I'll grant you one wish."
"Really! I get to make a wish?"
"Of course, you do. You just need to put your hands in the pond, close your eyes, and make a wish. I'll do it with you."
"Okay…"
"… What you'd you wish for, Stef?"
"That'd I get a camera for my birthday. What about you, Lucie?"
"I wished…"
…..
….
…
Stefano awoke with a groan, slowly rolling onto his back on the firm bed as his mind crawled out from the dark pit of sleep. Steams of sunlight crept through the cracks of the stained curtains and ran over the thin tan sheets he was tangled up in. He tried pulling the covers down but was immediately met with a frosty chill air that made him instantly shrink back under. One night in and the broken thermostat was already being a pain. He rolled over to look at the cheap clock on the nightstand, having to lazily brush his hair out of his eye to see. 7:28 a.m. Sleeping in would have been nice, but today wasn't the day for that.
Fighting against cold nipping at his skin, he got out of bed, adjusting the collar of his navy-blue nightshirt as it slipped down his shoulder. He slipped on his black robe before heading to the other bedroom, the hems of his loose trousers dragging on the dark tiled floor. Walking to the other side of the quiet apartment, he approached the bedroom door beside the kitchen entrance. The door was cracked open with a warm light peeking through in the dark. He silently creaked open the door, seeing the lit lamp in the corner of the room that acted as a makeshift nightlight that illuminated the small figure sleeping on the bed. Lily was wrapped up in a ball of purples sheets that slowly rose and fell with her quivering breath.
He took off his robe and carefully laid it over the curled-up form on the bed. He silently closed the door as he left the room and walked through the living room to draw the curtains in front of the balcony doors. He shielded his eyes from the morning light that pierced through the glass doors leading to the balcony. He didn't like the idea of people from neighboring apartments seeing inside theirs, but more natural light would make the future electricity bill cheaper. He grabbed a fresh set of clothes before heading to the bathroom across from his bedroom and flipped on the cheap light that gave the room a pale-yellow tint.
He stared at himself in the mirror, the dim lighting working in his favor as he didn't have a good view of the wounded side of his face as he tried to take off the old bandages. He was slow in unwinding the snowy white bindings until they stained a pink hue. He flinched as his fingers scraped the tender skin that the bandages had taken great care to hide. He paused, staring at his cheek, where the skin was a fleshy pink and had the texture of a leather purse. A translucent slime oozed from his still covered eye, where the bandages turned a mix of red and yellow. His nose wrinkled, disgusted at the scent of honeyed flesh and bitter blood.
"Buenos días, Pa—" Stefano reflexively jumped at the voice and turned to see that Lily was in the doorway. But he didn't get a good look at her as she gave a small yelp and shut the bathroom door. "Lo siento, Papá." Her small voice said on the other side of the door, sounding apologetic. He quickly rewound the bandages, ignoring how his face heated with shame. He would remember to close the bathroom door no matter what or when. He sighed deeply, checking in the mirror to make sure that his face was covered correctly before opening the door, making sure to smile even though it was crooked from pain. Lily stood anxiously, twirling her fingers on the other side, his robe draped over her like a blanket. "Lo siento." She repeated, looking down at the floor.
"It's alright, Farfalla." He said softly, patting the top of her head, and she finally looked up at him with her beautiful blue eyes, still hazy with sleep. "Ready to start the day?" She tilted her head to the side with a furrowed brow, and he gestured to the bathroom sink where her toothbrush and toothpaste were. She nodded. He brushed her hair with a pink brush as she brushed her teeth with bubble gum flavored toothpaste.
"Your hair has gotten so long," he noted as he brushed through her glossy ebony strands. "I'll need to get you some hair ties." He glanced at himself in the mirror. "I'll probably need one soon if I don't get a haircut."
"¿Qwe darías?" Lily mumbled with a mouth full of foam.
"If you're asking when then I'm not sure." While she finished brushing her teeth, he looked through the bathroom cabinets and pulled out a roll of gauze, a bag of band-aids of varying sizes, a washcloth, a bottle of medical alcohol, and a small tub of lotion. "Take your sleeves off, Lily." He said, setting down the items on the left side of the sink counter. Lily took off his robe, her light pink pajamas with white butterflies flying all over them showing. She pulled her pajama top over her head, revealing her pink tank top and the beige gauze wrapped all along her arms. He set down both articles of clothing on the towel rack before picking Lily up and setting her down on the sink counter.
"¿Duermes bien?" he asked as he began unraveling the gauze on her left arm.
"Mmm, sobre todo, sí, pero hacía tanto frío." She went on answering, swaying her legs off the edge of the counter as she mostly looked up at the ceiling. Stefano was careful with her arm as he continued to take off the wrap, the wounds on her arm making themselves present. They were a series of healing puncture wounds and long scratches that had scabbed over, making her fair skin nearly pink with all the blood that wanted to pour out from thin healing skin. They had the same similar ooze as his scar, and he made sure not to wrinkle his nose at the scent this time. He saw the first blot of blood once he got to her upper arm, where a scab had been picked off roughly, leaving behind a large pink sore that was desperately trying to heal itself over again. He sighed as he threw the dirtied gauze wrap into the trash bin.
"Liliana," he said, grabbing her hand, and she instantly stopped talking to look him in the eye.
"Yes, Papá," By her dashing gaze and nervous tone, he could tell she knew what she was guilty of.
"You cannot rasguño." He stated firmly, shaking his finger. "No bueno for tu. Tu nececitas to let it curo. ¿Comprendes?" She guiltily nodded her head, looking down. "Farfalla, I know it duele." He softened up his tone, rubbing her hand. "When it duele encontrar me, y I will make tu sentir better." He gave her hand one final squeeze before grabbing the bottle of alcohol and twisting off the lid. He saw that Lily was already cringing at the sight of it. Its pungent scent seeped into the air as he poured some of the clear liquid onto the washcloth. "It'll only sting for a second, Farfalla." He reassured her as he grabbed her arm and poised the alcohol-soaked cloth above her open sore. She turned her head to the other side, her other hand gripping the counter in preparation for the stinging pain. He took in a breath.
"Uno, dos, tres." Gentle was he as he put the cloth on her wound, but Lily still hissed in pain, shutting her eyes and biting her lip. Her arm tensed, and her nails scraped against the counter, fighting the urge to scratch the burning sting in her arm. It hurt his heart, seeing her pain, but he needed to press down hard enough to kill all the bacteria. A few seconds of pain was worth avoiding an infection, even if those thirty seconds felt like an eternity. He finally pulled the rag away, now stained with a pink blotch. "Perfect, Lily. You're so brave." He praised, clapping his hands together, and from her growing grin, he could tell she was proud of herself too. He opened a large band-aid with pink and purple polka dots and stuck it over her wound.
He repeated the same process on her other arm, which had two sores on her forearm that he had to clean. Next, she rolled up her pant legs for him to take the gauze off her lower legs and ankles, which were covered in scratches with four healing puncture marks above her left ankle and a deep burn scar in the shape of a streak on her lower right leg. Thankfully there was only one sore on her heel that he had to clean. He'd make sure to save up some money to buy her a treat with all the pain he was putting her through, as well as for more medical supplies. The washcloth was covered in pink and yellow stains when he was done with it, and he tossed it into the laundry bin beside the counter.
He picked up the white plastic tub and took off its red top to reveal the clear medicated ointment inside. He went to work on rubbing it on Lily's arms while she put some on her legs, though he had to make sure she rubbed it in all the way. Finally, he pulled out the gauze roll and rewrapped her arms and ankles to protect her skin and a deterrent for scratching, though the latter purpose wasn't as practical. "There, all done." He said, helping her down from the countertop. "Now go get dressed. We have a big day today." He handed her her pajama top and gestured his hands in the direction of her room. She nodded and left the bathroom, the pitter-patter of her light feet on the hardwood floor echoing in the quiet apartment.
He began to freshen himself up, making sure the bathroom door was closed this time. He left his bandages on in the shower, not wanting the freezing water to irritate it. He watched as specks of rosy water drip from his face to swirl down the drain. His back faced the mirror as he dried off and unwrapped the soaked bandages from his face and chucked them in the bin before putting on his most admirable set of clothes. He wanted to look presentable when searching for a job. He quickly managed his own wounds, putting some ointment on the irritated skin before wrapping a clean set of bandages around his head to cover his left eye. He turned around and checked himself in the mirror, untucking his bangs from the bandages.
Stepping out of the bathroom, he heard a staticky male voice coming from the living room. Walking in, he saw Lily sitting on the couch in front of the television that she had turned on. It appeared to be a news channel where the anchor spoke with a picture of a destroyed Spanish city behind him as he read from the report in his hands.
"Surviving witnesses claim that they heard gunfire come from the hotel lobby before the terrorists breached the second floor. Spanish military officials believe the Aguodioistas to be behind the attack in the Spanish city, Aragona, that left fourteen dead and over forty injured. The Italian government officials say that the Italian military will continue to support the Spanish military to fight against—" He shut off the television before the anchor could finish.
"¿Are los demonios here?" Lily asked with a quiet voice, her eyes fixated on the black television screen as her breathing quickened.
"Oh, no, no, no, piccola Farfalla." He promptly answered, bending down and cupping her cheeks to redirect her frightened gaze to him. "Los demonios are far far away. They no duele tu. Tu are safe." He soothed, calming her down. He watched her take a deep breath, shutting her glistening eyes and holding onto his wrists.
"I safe." She repeated before opening her eyes; fear diminished.
"Sí." He planted a kiss on her forehead, making her smile with rosy cheeks. He readjusted the butterfly charm in her hair. "Now, let's get the day started."
~ S ~
Finding a job should have been easy. There was plenty of businesses and stores in the area that could have used an extra pair of hands. The first store Stefano had gone into was a quaint antique shop, and it had seemed promising when he had asked for a job. But then they had asked when his bandages were coming off. "Whenever my eye grows back." was apparently the wrong answer and he had been quickly turned down as the owners politely said that they didn't want a scarred one-eyed plebiscite to be the first thing that greeted people. That may not have been their exact wording, but it may as well have been.
The second store he had tried claimed they didn't allow children when asked if Lily could stay in the break room while he worked. He had hoped for the third shop that was quickly quashed when he heard a bark from the backroom and had promptly turned down the job offer as quickly as he had asked for it. There was always one reason or another why he couldn't get the job, and it was growing increasingly frustrating, though he didn't show any of that anger in front of Lily.
"¿We go a una tienda?" Lily asked, holding his hand as they walked down the icy sidewalk.
"I'm not sure." He sighed, trying to hide his sorrow of not being able to find a steady flow of income.
"You sad, Papá?" Clearly, he wasn't doing that good of a job.
"No, Farfalla, I'm just hungry." It had been a couple of hours since they had lunch. "Tengo hambre. ¿Y tú?" Lily nodded. He didn't want to continue buying fast food, especially for a growling little girl. He remembered the stove and oven in the kitchen apartment. Cooking would be the better option. Thankfully the grocery store was close by, but Lily needed a little encouragement to walk inside after the sight of all the people. He didn't enjoy the crowd either but needed to buy the tools for cooking and the food itself.
Lily kept close to his side as they browsed through the aisles, basket in hand. He had about enough for about 30 euros worth of groceries and kept that in mind as he bought the cheapest pot and pan. He took his time in the utensil aisle, making sure the kitchen knife he picked out was to his satisfaction. Next, they were in the produce aisle as he contemplated which type of tomato he should get when he felt a tug on his sleeve.
"Papá…" He looked down and was taken aback by Lily's anxious eyes.
"¿Qué pasa?" Subtly, she pointed her finger to the right end of the aisle, which he couldn't see with his limited vision. He quickly glanced to his right and where a man stood at the end of the aisle, his dark eyes shamelessly staring him down. He cursed himself for not noticing sooner. "Don't worry, Lily. He's just shopping." He calmed her, patting her on the head. Then, not wanting a confrontation, he quickly grabbed a tomato and stuffed it in his basket before grabbing Lily's hand and walking to the left exit of the aisle.
"Valentini?" He stopped mid-step in surprise at the man calling out his name. Anxiously he turned back around. The man had moved closer. He certainly didn't recognize the tall man dressed in a brown fur coat, with short brown hair combed down and a five o'clock shadow. But with how his dark brown eyes shone with recognition, he must have recognized Stefano somehow. "Stefano Valentini?" the man said like it was a question.
"Yes?" he responded similarly in turn. Again, he was caught off guard that a stranger knew him by name, even more so when the man took a step forward. He took one back, holding on tight to Lily's hand. "Can I help you, sir?" The man ignored his question in favor of asking his own.
"Aren't you dead?"
"I beg your pardon?" Confusion mixed in with his stirring anxiety.
"There was a letter delivered years back. It said you went MIA. Everyone said you weren't coming home. I…" The man's stunned expression quickly burst into one of elation with a wide grin, eyes beaming as he exclaimed: "You're alive!" He stepped forward, arms open for a hug he never got as Stefano backed away, leaving him with a confused look. "Stefano, it's me, Sandro."
"Sorry, I don't recall." He mumbled, his brain still trying to process that people believed he was dead. But thinking about it more, it made sense with how long he was gone.
"It's Sandro Nicchi." The man continued. "From art class in junior and senior year." Stefano tried to think back to before leaving for his war photographer career. But he couldn't remember any Sandro Nicchis.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Nicchi, I can't seem to remember," he apologized. "My memory hasn't been up to par after my injury." He pointed to his bandages. The man deflated for a moment, a flash of sadness tainting his eyes before he chuckled half-heartedly.
"No, I understand. I'm guessing that's what ended your war photographer career?"
"Among other things." He glanced down at Lily, who shyly clung to his side.
"I certainly see." Nicchi awed, turning his attention onto Lily. "She has your eyes. What's your name?"
"Her name's Liliana," Stefano answered for her. "She's a bit shy around strangers."
"You were a bit shy yourself, Stefano. Must run in the family. What's her mother like? I'd like to see what kind of woman you ended up with."
"Well, um," Stefano paused, awkwardly rubbing his neck. "Her mother isn't around… and won't ever be." He solemnly said while stoking Lily's hair.
"Oh, I'm so sorry." Nicchi apologized. "I didn't mean to bring it up."
"It's alright. She's passed for many years now. So it's just been Lily and me."
"When did you get back to Florence?"
"Yesterday, actually."
"Yesterday?" Nicchi's confused expression returned. "Who looked after Liliana while you were away?"
"No one. I…. I had her while I was deployed. I'd rather not get into it."
"And you don't have to. Are things better now at least?" He asked, hopeful.
"For the most part, yes. I mean, we're not getting shot at, but money is limited at the moment. And I can't find a suitable job, which is stressful. Ah, sorry, I'm rambling."
"No, this is great." Nicchi declared, delighted, leaving Stefano perplexed. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I work at an art gallery in Stella Square, and there's a job opening for a custodian."
"I can work there?" He asked, happy for once in this conversation. Nicchi smirked.
"I'm sure I can persuade Jacopo to give you the job."
"This won't be an issue?" He gestured to his face.
"Certainly not."
"Am I allowed to bring my daughter?"
"Well," Nicchi started, putting a hand to his chin. "I'm not sure if that will be allowed, but we can work out the details. This position certainly pays more than the average janitor. You shouldn't pass it up."
"… I'll think about it."
"Please do. Here take this," Nicchi pulled out a card from his coat pocket and handed it to him. Acque Rosse Gallery the card read. "Call when you have an answer. I hope it's yes."
"Thank you, Mr. Nicchi."
"Call me Sandro, and please allow me to pay for your groceries."
"You don't have to do that," Stefano rejected with a nervous smile, not wanting to owe a stranger.
"You don't have to owe me anything if that's what you're thinking. Trust me, I have more than enough money to take care of myself." Sandro said, smiling as if reading his mind. "You'll need all the money you can get when raising a child." Stefano glanced down at Lily before sighing.
"… Alright, thank you."
"Anything to help a friend."
~ L ~
Lily carried the brown paper bag full of vegetables and followed Papá into the apartment complex. She was glad to finally be away from the large crowds and back to the safety of their home. The food store had been the worst. The crowded isles and the man with a fur coat that Papá had talked with nearly suffocated her. Papá didn't seem to be friends, which was clear when he retreated from his hug. Hopefully, she'd never see him again.
Papá hit the button on the elevator, and the rickety doors opened. He let her inside first before coming in himself and hitting the 4th floor. The doors started to close when a woman's voice on the other side hurriedly called:
"Per favore, tieni le porte!" He held the elevator doors back long enough for a woman to join them inside the elevator. She looked older than Papá, with her dark brown hair tied in a loose bun and shimmering green eyes. Her outfit was undoubtedly different from all the others Lily had seen. She wore a long flowing dress of blue fabric with embroidery of various colorful flowers. A white, blue, and purple shawl rested over her shoulders and pearl earrings dangled from her ears. "Grazie molte signore." She thanked him; her red lips pulled into a wide smile. She spoke differently, too, having an accent to her words.
"Non è un problema, signora. Quale pavimento?" Papá replied.
"Quattro per favore. Sei nuovo? Nonti homai visto quiin giro prima." The lady went on pulling him into a conversation. Lily heard talks of a new apartment and food, but that was all she got. Suddenly the woman turned her attention to her, flinching as she crouched down and cooed:
"Come ti chiami dolce ragazza?" Lily shrank away from the intrusion. How long was this elevator ride?
"Lei è Liliana," Papá answered just as the doors opened. She hurried out of the elevator with Papá not too far behind, but the lady also left the elevator. To her irritation, he stopped to talk to her longer, constantly looking her way. She mostly blanked out on their conversation until:
"¿You speak Spanish, Liliana?" Lily was shocked to understand the lady's question, and it showed on her face.
"Yes, ma'am." she quietly answered.
"Lovely!" The lady clapped her hands together before crouching down again, her green eyes like sparkling gems. "Please allow me to introduce myself. My name's Juanita Flores, but you can call me Miss Juanita. I'm from Spain, just like you. I came to Italy many years ago, and I know you'll like it here we much as I do. I'll see you soon." she looked at Papá. "Spero di sentirla presto, signor Valentini." she reached into her purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper that she handed to him. Finally, she walked away down the opposite side of the hall, and they were able to get back to their apartment without any more disturbances.
Cooking meals with Papá were always fun. This dinner was no different. She used a stool to reach the kitchen sink as she filled two pots with water, and he pulled out a cutting board and fresh tomatoes. After placing the pots on the stovetop, he turned on the stove; he always turned on the hot things. He was also the one that used the knife, which he used to start slicing the tomatoes.
"Metti la pasta nella pentola per favore." He said, pointing to the package of spaghetti pasta and then the pot. Lily took out a portion of the pasta and cracked it over the boiling pot of water, hot water drops splashing onto the stove with a sizzle. "Careful, Farfalla." He warned.
"Of course, Papá." She carefully put the rest of the pasta into the pot before sliding her stool over beside Papá, where he was cutting the tomatoes. It was satisfying to see how effortlessly he guided the silver blade through the sweet red flesh of the fruit, its pink juices seeping into the wood of the cardboard. The sound of metal tapping on the hardwood with the soft crunch of the tomato made it that much better. "Papá," he paused mid-cut, looking to her. "May I try per favore?" she asked, gesturing to herself before making a cutting motion with her hand. He hummed, thinking to himself quietly before nodding. She smiled giddily as he slid the cutting board over to her.
"Devi tenere il coltello in questo modo." He held the knife in front of her to see, looking closely as to how he exactly held the kitchen knife. Then, he handed it over to her. The black handle was much bigger in her tiny hand, but she managed to copy the hold he had had on it. Next, she held the tomato still in her other hand, making sure her fingers weren't in the way and slowly bringing the knife blade down into the cut he had made. Then, she began sawing back and forth, but he quickly stopped her, shaking his head.
"Devi tagliare in questo modo." He grabbed her knife hand and guided her through the motions of how to properly use the kitchen knife. She was surprised at how little force she needed to use. It was the blade's purpose to cut. It was simply her job to guide its sharpened edge further into the wounded fruit. Soon enough, he let go, and she was doing the cutting all on her own. "Meravigliosa, Farfalla. Sei un naturale." He congratulated her. She smiled as the knife clicked on the wood with a satisfying thump, and her first slice of tomato slumped onto the board.
Finishing dinner didn't take too long after that. Lily found herself sitting at the small dining table as he plated their food and brought it over to the table. He set down her plate of spaghetti in front of her, and the smell of it was absolutely heavenly.
"Grazie Papà."
"Thank you, Lily." He thanked her back, sitting down with his own plate. She ate gratefully. She didn't do a lousy job with the sauce; she'd say so herself.
"Lily," Papá said, pausing his meal. She stopped too but made sure to clean her face of the tomato sauce. He clasped his hands together and took a deep breath. "I have job now."
"Molto buona!" She cheered, clapping her hands together, but he didn't smile like she did. "What's sbagliato?" She asked worriedly, but her eyes quickly locked onto the new issue that arose.
"Bene, you no-"
"Papá," she abruptly cut him off, "Il tuo nose." She pointed to her nose and reached for his with a confused look. His eyes widened as his fingers touched the warm stream of deep red blood running from his pale nose.
"One moment, please." He was already grabbing a napkin and rushing to the bathroom before she could ask if he was okay. She got out of her seat and waited nervously outside the bathroom door. The minutes he was in there felt like an eternity for her. So, it was a breath of relief for when he finally opened the door, his face clean with a small smile. "Sei bravo?" she asked
"I good, Farfalla. No worry." He softly patted her head to try and comfort her, but it didn't stop the distressing feeling in her chest.
"What stavi andando say before?" She asked, gesturing to the dining table.
"I…" he stopped, looking stumped as if the word was at the top of his tongue but wouldn't come. "Non sono sicuro." He shrugged. "Dai, let's eat." He walked back to the dining table. Holding her troubles back, she followed him to the table to finish dinner.
