The Slave of Pleasure

Vincenzonovelbin

The cell was cold and silent, with only the distant sound of footsteps echoing through the prison corridors. I was sitting on the bed, my elbows resting on my knees and my hands clasped together, staring at the floor without really seeing it. The dim light from the overhead lamp cast distorted shadows on the concrete walls, and the constant sound of rain beating on the distant windows brought an uncomfortable melody, as if the world outside was crying.

It was strange to think that, after everything, I was here again. The place I had spent so much time trying to avoid seemed to be pulling me back, as if prison were some kind of second home that I never asked to have. But, unlike before, this time there was something more. A contained, controlled anger, mixed with an anguish that refused to leave me. All of this because of Veronica.

The cell door opened with a dry snap, tearing me from my thoughts. I looked up just enough to see the guard standing there, his expression neutral, as if he were too tired to care.

"A message from Veronica," he said simply, as if her name didn't carry the weight I felt.

That simple mention made my jaw tighten. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my cool.

"I've said everything I needed to say," I said firmly, looking the guard straight in the eye. There was nothing more to discuss with her. Everything that needed to be resolved had already been laid out that night, in the rain, with the police watching.

But the guard didn't move. Instead, he just looked at me with disconcerting calm and added,

"She said you would say that. But she said she hadn't yet."

For a moment, all I could do was stare at the man in silence. My hands involuntarily clenched into fists. No matter how many times I tried to pull away, Veronica always managed to pull me back into this sick dance she called a relationship. Even now, with her locked up and me too, it felt like she still had some control over what was happening around us.

The guard stepped away from the entrance, making way for me to leave. For a second, I considered refusing. But part of me knew I needed to end this. Even if there was no hope of resolution anymore, I needed to hear what Veronica had to say. Maybe this would be the last chapter in this story.

I stood up, running my hands over my face to try to dispel the tiredness, and followed the guard out. The hallway seemed longer than I remembered, each footstep echoing off the walls as if it reminded me of my prison. The guard led me down a different path, and I soon realized we weren't heading to the conventional visiting room. Instead, we stopped in front of a door that led to a space with a wide view of the outside of the prison.

There she was. Veronica stood with her back to me, staring out the large window as the rain fell outside. The thunder rumbled as if it were part of a carefully choreographed soundtrack. The scene seemed to have been taken straight from a film noir, but there was nothing romantic about it.

I approached, feeling the handcuffs on my wrists tighten more than usual. The weight of the metal seemed to remind me of the reason I was there.

"Take the handcuffs off him," Veronica said, without turning around.

The guard looked at her with obvious skepticism. "Are you sure about that?"

"We'll talk in a civilized manner. No need for handcuffs."

The man hesitated for a moment, but complied. I felt the cold of the metal disappear as he removed the handcuffs. I ran my thumbs over my wrists, relieving the pressure that the marks left on my skin.

The room where Veronica and I were was unlike any other inside the prison. It wasn't your typical cold room, with bare concrete walls and weathered metal chairs. This one had a more reserved feel, almost as if it were made for negotiations that required an extra layer of discretion. The walls were a faded beige, and one of the tall windows let in pale light, filtered through heavy bars. The floor was made of old tiles, with discreet cracks that told of the age of the place. There was a table in the center, made of dark wood, marked by scratches and small stains, but still solid. The chairs were padded, a luxury considering the circumstances. It was quiet. The kind of quiet that comes not from peace, but from anticipation. There was a camera in one corner, discreet but clearly visible a reminder that we weren't completely alone, even if the surroundings gave that illusion. Veronica sat on one side, I on the other. The distance between us felt greater than the room itself, even though it was physically only six feet. It was a space built by time, by wrong choices and lies.

"You're wasting your time," I said, I broke the silence as I approached her. "Everything we needed to say to each other has already been said." Before I could continue, Veronica abruptly interrupted me. "Adrian." My body froze. For a moment, thought I had misheard. The silence that followed seemed to last forever. Finally, she turned and looked me straight in the eyes. "Our son's name. Adrian is his name." I felt as if the air had been knocked out of my lungs. My heart raced in my chest uncontrollably. I knew what that name meant. It was the name I had always wanted to give my son, ever since I was young. But that wasn't public information. It was a secret that only Veronica knew, because at some point in the past, she had been the only person I had trusted enough to share it with. My eyes locked on hers, searching for any trace of deception, any sign of manipulation. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find it. Only a silent pain reflected in Veronica's eyes. "Why are you telling me this now?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

She stepped closer, stopping a few feet away.

"Because he exists, Vincenzo. And you need to find him before it's too late."