Rachel


    Vincenzo''s words came out slowly, almost as if each one carried an unbearable weight. I could see the difort on his face, the internal struggle to open up about his past to us. Nancy and I watched him closely, each word he said seeming to have the power to change everything I thought about him.


    "When I was a kid," he began, "a friend of my mother''s used toe over to our house a lot. She acted... strangely toward me."


    My breath caught in my chest. I knew what that emphasis meant, and it made my skin crawl. A sudden nervousness washed over me, because I sensed that what he was about to reveal would be devastating. "Mother always invited her over," Vincenzo continued, "and she always found a way to be alone with me. Her name was Monica."


    Each word weighed more heavily than thest. My heart raced, and I felt a knot form in my stomach. Vincenzo could barely look me in the eye as he spoke, and I knew he was reliving something extremely painful.


    "She said she was teaching me how to be a real man," he said, his voice lowering, as if he were about to choke. "And I didn''t understand... I was just a child."


    Without saying a word, I rested my hand on his. It was a silent gesture, but I wanted him to know that even though it was hard, I was there with him, listening, feeling the pain alongside him. My fingers tightened around his, and for a moment he looked at me, with silent gratitude in his eyes, but also with deep sadness.


    He took a deep breath, trying to gather the strength to continue. "One day, in the garden... Monica followed me. She started touching me in a way that didn''t make sense to me, but somehow, she made me believe that I was to me. I was scared, but at the same time... curious."


    My heart ached at hearing that. The weight of Vincenzo''s confusion and shame seemed to be palpable in the room. Every word he said brought a new wave of horror and anger to me. How could someone do this to a child? How could they twist innocence so cruelly?


    "One day, she asked me toe over to her house," he continued, his voice even more reluctant. "I went. And when I walked through the door... my life was never the same again."


    I couldn''t control the tears any longer. They fell silently as my mind tried to process what he was revealing. Vincenzo had suffered. He had been manipted and abused in a horrific way, and it exined so much about his personality. The control, the coldness, the mystery-it all made sense now. It was the defense of someone who had been deeply and irreparably hurt.


    The hatred I felt for this woman, Monica, was almost suffocating. How could anyone take a boy''s childhood away like that? He was just a child, and she had shaped him with her wicked actions, leaving scars that followed him into adulthood. I wanted to scream, I wanted to confront this woman, even if she was just a ghost in his past. But more than that, I wanted to protect Vincenzo, even if it was toote to undo what he had been through.


    Anger mixed with pain filled my chest, and I continued to hold his hand, unable to say a word. Vincenzo had carried this secret for so long, and now, he had finally exposed it to us. And I didn''t know what to say or do other than to be there, offering him my support, even if it was insignificant in the face of so much pain.


    But one thing I did know: I would never look at Vincenzo the same way. Understanding his past made me see him as more human, more vulnerable.


    I waspletely speechless after hearing Vincenzo''s story. My heart was heavy, and all I could do was look at him, searching for a way to process what had just been revealed. I never imagined that someone as strong and dominant as Vincenzo had gone through something so devastating. It was as if, in a matter of minutes, a hiddenyer of him had been exposed, revealing something deep and painful that he had been keeping for a long time.


    I looked away at Nancy. She, normally so aloof and energetic, now had her head down. She seemed to be reflecting on everything, silently mourning Vincenzo''s past. This unexpected gesture touched me even more. Even with all herplexities and challenges, Nancy, like me, seemed to feel his pain.


    I turned my eyes to Vincenzo, and this time, they were full of affection. I didn''t know what to say. How could Ifort him? What did one say at a time like this? But it seemed that he wasn''t expecting any words offort, because he continued, his voice firm but full of emotion:Owned by N?velDrama.Org.


    "That''s why I can only express myself through violence," he admitted, as if he was finally exposing a truth that had haunted him for a long time. "I hardly let anyone get close to me... in any way."


    As he spoke, it was as if the world around us disappeared. The vulnerability in his words and the rawness of his emotions were palpable. The man I knew was used to maintaining a strong, unwavering stance. But here, in front of me, he was admitting his greatest weakness, the wound that shaped his attitudes and his worldview. It was painful to hear him, and at the same time, I felt a deeper connection forming between us.


    Vincenzo then looked at Nancy, who was still silent. "When I met Nancy in the hospital," he began, his voice softening, "we talked and discovered that in some ways we lived the same thing, but in different ways."


    That took me by surprise. I had no idea that Nancy also had a dark past. Vincenzo continued, "She went through something simr... the abuse, the maniption. But the way we reacted was different. She withdrew from reality in a way. I... I hardened myself. I blocked my emotions and wallowed in anger."


    I looked at Nancy again, seeing her with new eyes. She had always seemed unpredictable, chaotic. Now, everything made a little more sense. Her erratic behaviors, her way of seeing the world, were reflections of unresolved trauma. And Vincenzo... well, he dealt with pain in the opposite way. He kept everything controlled, repressed, and channeled that pain in ways that protected him but also isted him.


    "That''s why she is the way she is," Vincenzo said, as if stating the obvious. "And that''s why I am the way I am."


    The revtion hit me hard. There was a strange symmetry between them. Nancy and Vincenzo, despite being so different, shared an invisible bond, a pain that connected them, even if their reactions to that pain were so different. My head was spinning with so much information, so many conflicting emotions. Part of me wanted to cry for them, for everything they had been through. Another part, however, wanted to fight. I couldn''t let this pain shape everything from now on. There was a way out, a way to break this cycle of violence and trauma. And somehow I felt like I was in the middle of this path with them, seeking a bnce between their shadows and my desire for light. Vincenzo looked at me, waiting for an answer, a sign that I understood. And for the first time, I felt like I truly understood who he was.