THIRD PERSON

"What's taking her so long?" Matteo muttered, frowning. "She knows we still have to keep going."

Valentino stretched his legs, holding a tree stump in one hand. God, these cookies were delicious. Too bad they weren't for him. Maybe he should tell Josephine how great he thought they were; then she'd definitely make him some more. "Maybe she ate too much dough and got sick? Her stomach probably isn't used to it."

"Do you really think so?" The younger brother looked skeptically at him, then back at the door. "I'd better go check on her. Don't touch the cookies while I'm gone, okay?"

Valentino shot him a meaningful look before grabbing another cookie. Shaking his head, Matteo left the kitchen. It was hopeless; there was simply no way to help his brother. It was time for the family to realize they had to do the right thing and put him in a closed psychiatric hospital. Not so hopeless that he would need a straitjacket, but close. He couldn't understand how Vito and Domenico hadn't thrown him out during their teenage years. Matteo had only been a child then, but he still remembered how often Valentino had been suspended from school—more times than Riccardo and him combined, and they'd been called troublemakers.

"Hey, watch where you're going." Riccardo looked at his brother, who had nearly run into him. "Do you have flour in your hair?" Grinning, he reached out and ruffled Matteo's curls.

"Stop it! Have you seen Josie?" Matteo quickly ran a hand through his hair to tame it. Why was he the only one with curls? Everyone else had hair that stayed in place after a shower, but not him. It wasn't fair!

"Nope. Why are you looking for—" Something behind them made a dull bang. Both turned toward the hallway in surprise. "What the hell was that?" Neither could answer because another bang followed, this one sounding like something heavy had broken. The brothers exchanged alarmed looks and then ran to Josephine's room.

Matteo reached the door first but stopped mid-movement, staring in disbelief at the scene. Dresses were scattered across the floor, most of them torn. Where there had once been pillows on her bed, feathers drifted onto the mattress. A broken pot lay at his feet, beside the plant it belonged to. A few steps away, he saw the last Harry Potter book torn in two. He stood frozen, unable to move. They had just baked cookies!

"Josie! Hey, what are you—" Riccardo tried gently, but she didn't hear him. Instead, she raised her fist and struck the already shattered mirror like a madwoman. Blood was already sticking to the splinters. Whatever it was, this wasn't a panic attack. Riccardo didn't think; he wrapped his arms around her from behind, holding her tight. "Josie, it's me! Josephine!" he shouted, this time louder.

But she still didn't respond. She continued screaming, a sound that made Riccardo's stomach turn. She fought against his iron grip, thrashing around, but he didn't let go. Instead, he tightened his hold until she couldn't move and glanced at Matteo. "Go get Vito!" His brother remained motionless. "Matteo! Get the others! Fuck—" Josephine hit his nose, and for a brief moment, he saw stars, loosening his grip just enough for her to lunge forward. She grabbed the small stool next to the mirror and hurled it toward the door. Cursing, he reached for her again, but her scream pierced the air like a deafening shriek. Matteo snapped out of his trance just in time to dodge the stool, which left a dent in the wall beside him. His spit turned bitter, his throat tightening. He blinked and ran, unable to form any coherent thoughts.

All he could hear was her screaming as he raced down the stairs. Valentino was approaching, probably alarmed by the noise, but Matteo ran past him. He had to reach his brothers. They could help. They would know what to do. They would make her feel better. Breathless, he burst into the office where Vito and Domenico looked at him in surprise. "Josie, she—she's—"

Alarmed, they exchanged quick glances and dashed past him upstairs without wasting a moment. Matteo followed more slowly, his body growing heavier with each step. But they had just baked cookies!

Upstairs, Riccardo and Valentino were trying to reach Josephine, but she was still lost to them. She continued to scream as if she were being slaughtered, fighting against Riccardo's grip. "What the hell—" Domenico cursed upon seeing the destruction. "What happened here?" He had to shout to be heard.

"I don't know! We heard a bang, and she's unresponsive! What should I do?" Riccardo looked helplessly at his eldest brother.

Vito exchanged a look with Domenico. "You take the window; I'll take the door." Domenico nodded and got into position. "Riccardo, let her go and see if you can find bandages in the kitchen. Valentino," Vito pulled out his cell phone without breaking eye contact with Josephine. "Call Dr. Bradford. I don't care what it costs; he needs to come here. Now."

The two brothers hesitated but followed Vito's instructions. As soon as Josephine was released, she bolted for the door like a wild animal. Vito quickly stretched out his arms to block her path.

Matteo didn't recognize her; her eyes were wide, blood smeared across her face, saliva on her shirt. She looked less than human now. Josephine turned to escape through the window, but Domenico mirrored Vito's action, blocking her there too.

Dazed, Matteo watched from the hallway as Vito said something to Valentino before closing the door. He barely noticed Riccardo leaving or Valentino answering the phone. It was only when Valentino grabbed his shoulder that he flinched. His brother asked worriedly if he was okay, but instead of responding, Matteo dashed into the nearest bathroom and vomited into the toilet until only bile remained. Everything had been fine!

Inside the room, Josephine paced like a caged animal. Blood dripped onto the floor; nobody cared. "Let me out!" she hissed, her voice unrecognizable. When the brothers didn't move, she picked up another flowerpot and threw it at Domenico.

It narrowly missed him, but he remained still. If she truly wanted to hit him, he was sure she would have. "Talk to us. Whatever it is, we'll get it back on track," he urged.

"You can't help me!" she hissed, trying to push him back. She didn't even notice the splinters digging into her hand. All she could think of was escaping. Domenico pulled her into his arms. When she realized what he was doing, she began to hit his torso, but instead of releasing her, he let her continue. "Nobody can help me!"

"Maybe not, but we can at least listen," Vito said, inching closer. "And no matter what it is, we're here with you." Josephine's blows grew weaker until she finally ran out of strength, gasping for air. Domenico held her tighter.

"I can't tell you," she whispered, turning her head to look at Vito. He felt transported back to the night he first saw her. The look in her eyes was one of despair, as if she had given up on life, hoping someone would save her. All the progress she had made seemed to vanish in an instant. The girl before him had become what he and Domenico had tried to protect her from. "I'm not allowed to."

The brothers stiffened, exchanging quick glances. There it was—the barrier that had always stood between her and the story she longed to tell. "Did he tell you that?" Josephine sought refuge in Domenico's shirt, nodding slightly, but both brothers saw it.

Then she thought of the camera and what he had said, recalling everything that had happened and the feeling of never escaping him. It didn't matter where she was; he would always catch up with her, no matter how far she ran. She would remain trapped forever, all because of him! Desperate to breathe, she struggled against the tightness in her chest.

"Let it out, Tiny," Domenico whispered, holding her close. "Cry and let all the ugliness out. I'll hold you."

Something inside her broke. She began to cry over the thousand pieces she felt shattered into, the strength she lacked to put herself back together. She cried for the future stolen from her by her past, for the childhood lost, for the person she could have been if her parents hadn't died, for the second chance she had squandered yet again. She cried out of anger, self-hatred, and her inability to do the right thing.

Domenico rocked her gently without saying a word as her tears soaked through his shirt. If he just held her tightly enough, maybe he could hold her together.

Neither of them heard the timid knock on the door, but Vito did. He cracked it open, revealing Valentino, holding bandages. "Dr. Bradford is on his way; I'll bring him up as soon as he arrives. Riccardo is with Matteo. Do you need anything?"

Vito accepted the bag, shaking his head. "Take care of those two and bring them downstairs." Valentino nodded and disappeared, while Vito turned back to Domenico and Josephine. Without speaking, he lifted the bag for Domenico to see. He shook his head briefly, signaling that she still needed time. Vito nodded. If it would have helped her, he would have stopped every clock in the world to give her more of it.