During her imprisonment in the cellar at an elevation of three thousand feet above sea level, Chiara had injured her leg, and the wound had become infected. She needed a crutch to walk, but the doctor was optimistic. “Listen, would you stop peppering me with questions the way the journalists do?”

Max lowered his head. He was just trying to inquire about his girlfriend’s state of health. Chiara turned back to look out the window. “I don’t think I’ll ever be better.”

“Why do you say that? They stitched up the wound!”

God, what an idiot, Chiara thought to herself. A handsome cretin. “I’m not talking about the leg, Max. I relive it in my dreams every night. Every night I’m tied to that chair, with the hood over my head. All alone. And outside it’s raining, it’s snowing, and I’m all alone. Without water to drink . . .”

“But the two guys that kidnapped you are dead now, Chiara. Now no one can hurt you again, you know that?”

The girl whipped her head around and looked Max in the eyes. “How do you know? Are you certain?” She furrowed her brow. “Have you noticed? I turned nineteen and didn’t even have a party. Because I don’t want to have anyone else looking at me the way you’re looking at me now.” A tear streamed down from her eye; both eyes were shut tight. “That poor girl who was kidnapped and . . . who knows what else they did to her!”

“Chiara, I don’t—”

“Are they talking about me at school? And what are they saying?”

“That they want to see you again.”

Chiara softened her tone. “How are you, Max?”

“Okay, I guess. Things are horrible at home.”

“How so?”

Max looked down at his hands. He continued rubbing them against each other. “Lots of things aren’t going well, Papà and Mamma are . . . I don’t know what. I can’t take it at home anymore.”

Chiara heaved a sigh of annoyance. “Then just leave. You have plenty of money.”

“You think it hasn’t occurred to me? But until I finish school, I don’t get a penny . . .”

At last Chiara smiled. “I love you, Max. I really do. But you have to promise me something.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t come back to see me again.”

Max opened his eyes wide. “But . . .”

“Go to school, go with your friends, but don’t think about me again. Chiara Berguet no longer exists.”

“Why not?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you. But I don’t know. I really don’t know . . .”

“Won’t you even give me a kiss?”

“I’m sorry, Max, just let me sleep. I’m so tired . . .”