Arabella

I've been coming down here for the past few days. Every time I push open the heavy door and step into this damp, airless basement, the hair at the back of my neck stands. A new wave of dread washed over me as I came face to face with him again.

The light was dim, a single bulb dangling from a frayed cord above Marco's head, and yet it was enough to see the damage. There was always something new, another shadowed bruise along his jaw, a cut swelling on his lip, dark blotches creeping along his arms. Leonardo had promised this was my call, that I would decide...