Monica
Struggles
"What did you say?" I asked in shock.
I'm just sad but I'm sure my brain is still running smoothly.
Why would he give me such a condition?
"You heard me, Monica. That's your only escape in this situation." Francis said in front of me.
I don't know if he sees me blushing with anger. I could feel the heat all over my face and seemed to want to explode with annoyance.
"How can that be my only option? I am Monica Carluccio Marchetti, you can't have me as your secretary." As I said these words my teeth were gritting.
"Inside the cell, you are not. You are just an ordinary prisoner with a theft offense." He leaned forward at the table between us.
"How dare you to accuse me of that? I didn't steal anything." My stubbornness.
I really want to get out of this place because I'm about to explode. They dared to take me here and my cousin Matteo did nothing to help me. My blood boils and it rises in my head with anger.
"What is this, then? It's a file kept in my office that was found in your closet. Tell me that you didn't steal it." Francis dropped the black folder in front of me.
No matter what happens I will not admit it.
I did nothing wrong.
And they have no right to accuse me.
"I don't know!" My stubbornness is still evident.
People who spoke to me in this room did not listen to me. The room is cold and I only have my thin cloth sleepwear. I am shivering but no one notices.
"Hey! Am I not going home?! It's fucking cold in here! Che diavolo!" I shouted.
They left me alone in this room. They told me that this room was covered by surveillance cameras and I don't care. I can curse whatever I want. I can shout as loud as I can like a crazy woman. I can talk shit about them. I did nothing wrong.
"Stop yelling. You're just tiring yourself." I heard Francis' voice over the megaphone. He's watching me.
I feel so cold yet they didn't even provide some warmers or blankets?
"Then at least give me some blanket so that I can calm down!" My eyes roll spontaneously in annoyance.
I could not move my hands properly because of the handcuffs I was wearing. My clothes had slipped off my shoulder and I couldn't fix them because of my handcuffs. The skin on my shoulder was exposed so I could feel the cold. My feet were cold as well and I could barely feel them.
Francis entered again with a blanket. He averted his gaze and I saw his jaw tighten as he closed the door.
"Do you want to go home?" He asked.
"Of course! Who would want to stay here?" I said sarcastically.
"Then take my condition," he suddenly faced me. Blank faced.
"No," over my dead body.
"Then they will put you in the cell. You will stay there until you change your mind. You will not go home." He was threatening me.
I did not shake. I did not show my frustration. I bolded my expression as I looked straight at him. I want him to know that I am not happy in this situation.
I saw him breathing deeply as a signal for his surrender. He took off the coat he was wearing and approached my side. I gasped secretly as he placed his coat on my bare shoulder. He knelt beside me and laid on my thighs the blanket he was carrying. He pulled up the chair in front of me and pushed it to my side, but was still facing me.
"Are you really going to be this stubborn?" Gritting his teeth.
"Before you put me in jail, I need to see my lawyer. I need to have a lawyer to prove my innocence." I said.
"Who? Your cousin? He turns you over, that's how I knew." That sly fox!
"I need a lawyer," I strongly repeated.
I don't care if he turns me over. I need someone to prove that I am innocent.
I looked at him badly. I hardened my face and held back the looming tears. If father was here, he wouldn't let any of this happen.
My father died mercilessly. And I am living miserably. What a dark fate, right?
"Hey, novice! That's my bed!"
I was about to lay down in the most comfortable bed I saw inside this dirty cell but someone interrupted me. How can they stay in this kind of place? So filthy. So tight. And people are looking so scary!
"Can't you just go there? I'm here first! Can't you see?" I said. You can't scare me with your tattoos, old lady!
"Wow! And you're talking back now? Don't speak English here if you don't want to get that face scratched!" She pulled me from my seat and threw me at the pointed end of this cell.
"What the fuck?!" I cried.
Come osi?
"Have mercy boss on the newcomer, look at that complexion. So smooth! She's been taking care of it." One of them approached me thinking she would help but instead ran her dirty hand over my shoulder to arm.
"Ew! Get off!" I rubbed my arm as if covered in dirty mud.
And what happened next was what I didn't expect. Someone threw a punch right in my face that felt so hurt. They have cornered me while some of them are holding both of my arms. My ears are ringing and I can't hear what they are saying.
"Vaffanculo!" I struggle but I can't cope with their strength.
I received a punch again but this time to my stomach as well. I almost vomited as if the organs in my stomach were tangled.
I was caught off guard.
I feel weak.
"Mannerism is not allowed here if you still want to live. Do you understand?" She pulled my hair. I just had it done the other day!
Dammit! I've spent a fortune on my hair!
"Get off!" I shouted.
I can hear them now. They were all noisy and seemed pleased with what they were doing to me.
The whistle of the cops is what I heard next. They suddenly let go of me which signaled them to fall me to the floor and walk away from me as if nothing had happened. The policemen came to our cell and found me like a poor dog.
"It's late at night and you're still making noise!" The police commented.
Come on! Help me here! Get me outta here!
I spent the whole night not sleeping or eating. And my cousin Matteo visited me just in time. It was only right that he saw what the result of what he did to me was.
This is his fault, by the way.
"Who the fuck did this to you?!" He exclaimed.
There my precious cousin. Go and yell. Tame your guilt.
When I looked in the mirror this morning, my left cheek was almost swollen with a large bruise from the punches given by my cellmate. My arms have almost become pure soft and wilted. My stomach also hurts and I have no appetite at all.
"You did this," I said. Poker-faced. "This wouldn't happen if it's not because of you."
"How can this be my fault? You are the one who committed a crime!" He debated.
"Why would I rob my own company?" What made him think of that?
"Carluccio is no longer yours! When are you going to stab the truth into your mind?! Accept it, Monica. Because I don't want you to hurt yourself!"
I looked straight at him. I heard what he said. Somehow, I have realized it. He's right. But that doesn't mean that I will give up.
I promised my father to be better. And I will do whatever it takes to fulfill that promise!
"You have no right to tell me that," every word has an emphasis.
"Monica-"
"It's easy for you to say that because you haven't experienced what I've been through. You are so busy paving your fucking law career that can't even be of use towards me! You are supposed to help me to get back everything I lost because you are my cousin. You're lucky because you're still able to make peace with the company being their lawyer, but me? They even want to ban me." I finally let it out.
Why do I feel like I'm becoming taboo on things that should belong to me? I have lost my rights since my Dad died. People are losing the treatment I used to have and the respect they give me. So at these times, I miss it. Even my own blood relatives could do nothing to help me.
I hate to compare my life to others. Because I know to myself that I used to be comfortable, and I still can't adjust to my new miserable life now. I hate to see others happy while I struggle.
Am I a bad person for thinking that way?
"This newcomer is said to be a rich man's daughter. She was just imprisoned because she stole something."
"Life was ruined so she thought of stealing. Gosh, she lost it completely."
"That's the proof that not all days, you're on top."
"Maybe it's a bad habit and was rejected by the family. That's why she's stealing because she doesn't know how to work."
I'm fed up with what I'm hearing. Whenever people look at me, I can't even hear what they are saying but I can read my name in their mouths.
"Please stop," I begged.
I don't accompany any of them. Even when someone tries to approach me, I ignore them. I don't want to be attached to them because I am not going to stay here any longer. While my cousin arranged my release, I will go to Francis directly to throw a punch right in front of his face.
I really hate that man!
Another day came and I still could not get out of this cell. Here I am in the cafeteria and eating. Just like yesterday, I am also eating alone at this long table. Quiet and peaceful. But that quickly disappeared when three women approached me.
"What's your case?"
The woman next to me asked.
They're not in the same cell as me. And only now have I seen them.
"If you have nothing good to say, run away."
I want to eat peacefully.
"So peevish," they laughed. "Don't worry, we're not like them, hurting you."
Why would I believe you?
"I'm Nelly," he plucked his hand in front of me.
"I'm Gladys," said another.
In the more than a week I have been here, they are the only ones who have dared to talk to me in such a calm manner. Everything that comes out of their mouths is true and they really want to know me. I don't know if I can call it friendship, but I was moved.
"I'm full," I declared.
I stood up and without saying goodbye left the table carrying the tray of my food. I don't even know if it's food I'm eating. It was blunt. I handed that to the kitchen staff and left.
I want to be alone.
I just can't believe that this is my life now. Inside this prison cell. Who would have believed?
Monica Carluccio, granddaughter of Mariano Carluccio, who established the best wine producer all over the world. Her life became miserable when her father died mercilessly right in front of her eyes. Such a young person to experience abandonment and danger.
I am just glad that I still have the last photo of my father. I still carry it even here in jail. And every time I look at this photo, I can't help but get angry with myself. What am I doing to keep my promise? Father would have been very disappointed in me right now.
"Perdonami, Papa." I wiped my falling tears for the last time.
"I just want to put things into their rightful place,"
In the days that followed, during each of Matteo's visits, I did not see him. I always say that I feel bad and he goes away right away. But now my avoidance of him is no longer a lie. I feel cold and sweaty but it's not dripping. I have a hard time coughing and I feel hoarse every time I speak. I have never been this sick before. I felt like I was dying, seriously.
my eyes but I couldn't because of the weight I am feeling. I know my skin is warm but I feel cold. Is this still normal? Am I the only one experiencing this?
"Hey, novice. Are you okay?" They noticed my trembling. The sun was up and it was hot outside so they wondered why I was still wrapped in a blanket.
I can't answer them. I am conscious but I am confused. I am not myself. I can't talk.
"The fever is burning you up!" She touched and felt my forehead. I didn't know her because I couldn't see her.
"Stay away from her. You might get infected. Let's go!" Another lady commented.
My body is already sore because of the cold that I feel. This thin blanket is not enough to warm me up. I only have thick cardboard as my bed so I can feel the cold on the floor easily. I feel like I will give up any time so I no longer choose to speak.
"Call the police! She is burning with fever-"
It was as if the voices of the people around me were disappearing. My spirit is floating until only darkness envelops my surroundings.
My body feels heavy and I can't move properly. My arm felt numb as soon as I woke up. I didn't know where I was but all I saw was white. White room, cold ambiance, white sheets and my sleeping cousin beside me.
"Matteo..." I can't even speak loudly.
I try to remove my arm from his head resting on it but I can't. I am still too weak.
Fortunately, the nurse arrived. When he saw me awake, he immediately ran outside to call a doctor. And I'm in the hospital now.
"Monica?" He whispered.
It's good that I woke up. My arm went numb because of the weight of his head.
"Get out of here," I averted my face at him.
I don't want to see him. I don't want to talk to him. And I don't want to feel him.
"I'm sorry, Monica. I shouldn't have done it. But I just don't want to hurt you." I heard the sincerity in his tone but I didn't flinch.
"Get out. I don't want to see you. I don't want to talk to you. Just get lost." My stubbornness.
I don't want the headache to increase.
I will not lie when I say that I slept soundly tonight. The whole room was cold, the bed and pillows were soft, the surroundings were fragrant and quiet. I just miss home.
The doctor said food poisoning was the cause of my temperature rise and stomach pain. So I felt the chill due to my fever. My condition is no longer the same as when they brought me here. Just a little time to rest and he advised me to go for a walk as well.
In the morning, when I woke up I thought of leaving the room.
"Sister, why is there a policeman behind you?" Innocent question of the child I met in the hallway.
Even when I'm just walking, I need to have a guard. Have I sinned so much that he has to follow me here? Can I still commit a crime if I can't walk properly and have an intravenous attached to my hand?
"Just a watchman,"
Is what I said right? I just hope that he will not ask any questions.
When he got the answer, he walked away. Left as if nothing had happened. I was just like him carrying an intravenous while walking slowly.
"Can you stop watching me? I can't escape this situation." I said.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am Monica. I'm just following orders."
Orders? They have come this far. Ugh!
I just let him follow wherever I go. Fortunately, this hospital has a garden so I can breathe fresh air. I kinda missed my grandmother who's always in her garden back in Tuscany.
I miss the fresh air.
I miss the green grass.
I literally miss Tuscany.
There, I can find peace. No police, no hospital staff and most importantly, no annoying Francis!
There, I lived like a princess.
"You shouldn't be wandering around,"
Francis is here.
Because my action was slow, I slowly faced towards his direction. Suddenly my mood changed when I only saw his annoying face.
"This is doctor's prescription, Mr. Rodriguez." The policeman who followed me answered.
He ignored it, but only looked at me.
"You were walking for fifteen minutes. That's enough." He said.
"You're not my doctor so step aside," I don't know where I got the strength to move his big body.
I tapped his stomach hard. I continued walking because I wanted to reach the small kiosk in the middle of the garden. I want to let him know that I don't want to see his presence.
The beautiful sun was facing my direction as I sat on the bench. I couldn't care less because I just dumped my bum on the red-colored wooden bench in the middle.
"Take it easy, Ms. Monica." Police warning behind me.
Why am I surrounded by annoying people?
"Don't you love the sun, Mr. De Castro?" I asked him.
"I prefer the moon, Ms. Carluccio. But the sun is stunning." He answered.
"That's your choice. I won't judge that." I sighed. "May I know the reason why you like the moon instead?"
"I get to look at it without paining my eyes. And it feels so quiet, I find peace." He said.
He's right.
He was also standing behind me for a few minutes. I knew it was tiring too so I offered to sit next to me. I was surprised when he accepted it but there was a long distance between us.
"Can't you find peace under the sun?"
He looked at me curiously.
"Once the sun rises, the hens are crowing, cars are honking, people are in a hurry. They're loud and hype."
"So you don't want that?"
"I like the sound of nature and I am aware that those noises are still part of it. I just want my surroundings to be quiet and peaceful."
If that's his reason, why is he a cop?
"If you want a quiet environment, why are you in this profession? Criminology will always be noisy." I asked out of curiosity.
"I want a quiet surroundings that's why I chose this profession,"
"Why?" I just didn't understand.
"Criminals, violators and illegal organizations; those are the major factors on why the world is cruel and loud. My job is to make the world better and safe for the likes of them." He turned to other patients here in the garden. "Safe and worry-less surroundings,"
There are even people who are real and have a vow in their being. Some people can still put the welfare of other people before their own. Only a select few are like them and it is very sad to think that not everyone will be like him. I know every personality and dignity a person has is different. But why not see that in others?
"You are a true police officer, Sir." I could not restrain myself from saying those words.
I admire him.
I saw a small smile flicker on his lips as he averted his gaze from me and focused his eyes on the front.
"I'm just doing my job," he replied.
"Oh come on! We all like being praised."
We both laughed.
Our conversation went so far as to turn to nonsense. We are just talking and no longer aware of the time. Then I just thought of entering the hospital when the heat of the sun was already hurting my skin. I was still walking slowly because I couldn't take my step suddenly.
I found out that the policeman I had been with had never had a wife. He was only two years older than me.
"Even a girlfriend?" I asked a naughty question as we headed back to my room.
"I'll put the work first. I can't keep them together."
"It's just a matter of time management and setting priorities. You just have to love the right person. If she really loves you, she will understand the field of your work. She will patiently wait for you. She will truly care for you. And she will be proud because you did something good." I flinched at the slightest pain I felt when I accidentally moved my wrist in which the needle of dextrose occurs.
"Have you been in love?" He suddenly asked.
"Me?" Am I?
I don't know.
"I don't want love for now," I looked at my feet while walking. "I still mourn for my father."
"I see," he said.
He opened the door for me to enter my room. Instead of being surprised by Francis' presence in my room, I was even angrier. I've driven him away before but he's still here.
Isn't he still happy that I'm having a hard time? Does he really need to see more?
"I told you to leave, right? What the hell are you still doing here?" I have always been raising my voice whenever I see him.
"I just want to check on you. I was just checking if you're doing fine."
Fucking silly!
"Do I look fine to you?" I asked sarcastically.
"No,"
He said.
"Exactly! You have checked me. So get out."
The second person who visited me and I also sent him out. That is not a concern I am seeing from them. Isn't it enough for them to know that I'm struggling and hurting in my current situation? I want it over so I can make my plans. I didn't come home here to have fun.
When my condition was completely normal, the doctor prescribed it to send me home. But I did not go to the house, but to the filthy dungeon where I stayed for three days. I could do nothing but follow.
Can I still go out?
"Thank God and you're fine!" I was greeted by a woman named Nelly.
Gladys, who was with her when we were in the canteen, followed.
"Are you alright?" She feels my forehead with her palm. "Doesn't your stomach hurt anymore? Your head?"
"Come here. Sit down and you might get tired." Gladys pulled me to the chair that she also pulled to the other table.
"I'm fine, just leave me alone," I said.
"They'll transfer you to a cell. We're the new ones you'll be with." Said Nelly.
"I don't want to be moved by any cell. All I want is to leave here. I have my life outside!" I sighed.
They pulled up their chairs and sat down in front of me.
"We all have a life outside of this prison," Gladys said.
"Like me, I just had a baby. But instead of me being with and taking care of him I asked someone else." Nelly.
"I have a son in college. Two months from now, he will graduate. I can't go to his graduation because I'm here." Gladys.
"We have been accused of a crime we did not commit. For several months now no one has visited us. And what's worse is that even a letter I have not received from them."
Why are they here if they are not at fault?
"What's your case?" I asked.
"Homicide murder," Gladys replied.
"We work together. We're both assistants of a wealthy family living in Forbes. Unexpectedly, we didn't think they'd kill each other just because of money."
"If you didn't do that, why are you here?"
"We are the ones left. There is no other accusation against the brother just to save himself. And there is no evidence to prove our innocence."
"Lawyer, did you get any lawyer?"
"They get paid. They know the law and they can turn other people around. Because they know, they can make an innocent become an ignorant sinner." Nelly said sadly.
A lawyer is supposed to help them. They cannot defend themselves so they will need their help.
"We also don't have money. It's very hard to defend yourself and fight that you're not at fault if you don't have money."
How did money become the basis of justice?
The problem they are filtering is even more serious than mine. Greater responsibilities are slung over their shoulders but they cannot fulfill them because they are here. Nothing compared to me.
"To those like us, money is powerful. You won't be safe and secure if you don't have money."
"That isn't justice," I whispered.
They just smiled. Sad and strained.
What exactly is justice for a person?
Is money the most powerful thing in the world?
In my situation, I thought, what exactly is the reason I am doing these?
Money? Dignity? Or do I just not want to be embarrassed?
I do not know the answer. I don't know where to look for that. It was as if I was lost, lost and looking for the right path for the answers to my own questions.