An Angel Knocks on Hell's Door

By Suzé DiPietro

An Angel Knocks on Hells Door is a riveting story of a young girls perilous journey into womanhood. When sixteen-year-old Gia discovers her father with another woman and reveals his betrayal to her family, he deserts them. They lose everything, plummeting from a comfortable middle-class existence into a neighborhood rife with crime, gangs, racial tension and drugs. It is there that the stage is set for Gia to come of age under the obsessive sexual attentions of a neighborhood gang leader.

Suffering from the belief that she is guilty of having shattered her family and that she has become a loose woman, she is convinced that she is condemned to hell. Her sins are so great in her eyes that she can never confess them to a priest or anyone for that matter. And if you cant confess, you cant be forgiven. This is the story of Gias battle, triumph and salvation from hell -- without ever confessing a thing to a priest.

Insecure and reeling from the departure of her husband, Gias mother is not prepared to raise her three children and support her mother. Unable to accept her leadership role, she emotionally abandons her family in favor of her new boyfriend. The children are left under the watchful eye of Nanny, her mother, who is nicknamed The Iron Lady.

Nanny is a tough, no-nonsense woman with a rough-edged sense of humor. She is caught between protecting her grandchildren and risking her already fragile relationship with her daughter. Keenly aware that her family is dangerously close to self-destructing, she fears losing them to their personal demons: Tony to gangs, drugs and drinking; Mario, inwardly, to the solitary pursuit of running; and Gia to sexual awakening.

The stakes are raised when Gia, the object of obsession for Nicky, a neighborhood Greek gang leader, unknowingly rebuffs him in favor of his younger brother. A ballistic Nicky rapes her, warning her that if she tells anyone, he will kill her and her family. Obsessed with controlling her, he takes over every facet of her life, from choosing what she wears, chauffeuring her to and from school, to physically and emotionally assaulting her if she doesnt do as he says. If Gia thought she was knocking on Hells door before, she is absolutely certain that Satan has answered it in the form of Nicky.

A man of starkly contrasting dark and light personality traits, Nicky alternately abuses Gia and treats her like a princess. All the while he asserts, You will love me. Despite her initial fear and hatred of him, she slowly, and with much guilt and confusion, finds herself drawn to him both emotionally and physically.

She struggles to understand how she can possibly love the devil unless shes evil too. This sets her on a treacherous pilgrimage of self-discovery. What she comes to realize is that in order to face Nicky, she has to face herself, even if she doesnt like what she sees. And sometimes the devil teaches us lessons that we dont want to learn but must learn in order to survive. Gia discovers exactly what she represents to Nicky and it involves more than just sex. He uses her as his sword against his controlling parents, his arranged marriage and his impending return to Greece.

Gia's story ends in a stunning climax, surprising to both her and Nicky.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 11, 2000
• ISBN: 9781465320544

Suzé DiPietro

A professional singer and songwriter, Suzé has released her solo debut “Look At Me.” She has written, produced and performed in her original rock opera, “Grendel’s Lair.” Suzé is the author of An Angel Knocks on Hell’s Door and is a University of Pennsylvania graduate. She lives in New Jersey in a quaint Victorian farm house with her husband and two sons.

Book preview

AN ANGEL

KNOCKS ON

HELL’S DOOR

Suzé DiPietro

Copyright © 2000 by Suze DiPietro.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-7-XLIBRIS

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

To the lovely Maura Ciccarelli,

without whose life-long friendship,

love, support and amazing editing skills,

this book would not have been possible.

JUNE 16—Wednesday

I may have gotten straight A’s on my report card today, but, BOY, am I dumb.

I can’t help it. When I saw him down the street, slobbering all over that woman, I had to tell someone, didn’t I? Is it my fault that he can’t keep it zipped?

I didn’t mean to ruin everything. But, it just slipped out. Nanny asked why I looked so sad after I handed her my report card. It came out and then, she didn’t say anything. She just looked away, kind of cold looking. I should have known better.

Dinner was typical—left over spaghetti and meatballs—but it was dead quiet. I couldn’t say anything. I was so furious. Mommy didn’t say anything either. The twins kept pretty quiet too after she snapped their heads off for laughing as they whispered fart jokes to each other. Nanny’s eyes were boring holes into Daddy’s forehead. I watched everyone but kept looking at the light over the dining room table. It was flickering on and off. Nobody else seemed to notice.

I couldn’t tell if Daddy knew that Mommy knew about Mrs. Kelly. I watched Daddy, but he never even let on that he knew that I knew. He didn’t look at me once. He sat there in his white T-shirt, muscles bulging out, shoveling the food in his mouth.

I didn’t know whether Mommy knew because she acted like she normally does. But she hadn’t changed out of her white nurse’s uniform when she got back from work. That’s unusual because she has a thing about eating dinner with bloodstains from patients on her clothes. It’s gross.

It was way too quiet. Usually we’re all competing for attention, with at least three conversations going on at once. Silence is not something we’re good at. Max, our black lab, kept nudging my hand for food but even he didn’t make a sound.

It seemed like ages before Nanny finally poked her glasses back onto her nose and looked Daddy straight in the eyes. You better be careful. That no good, lace curtain Irishwoman is trouble.

Daddy didn’t wait a second. He jumped up and smashed his chair right onto the table. Spaghetti, bread, milk, glasses, forks, meatballs, dishes, tempers … everything flew into the air. There were red stains everywhere, from the tablecloth to the rug to our clothes. Max started barking hysterically.

Mom, I told you … protested Mommy as she jumped up from her chair.

I don’t care! Nanny screamed. She flew up from her chair, wagging her finger at Mommy. I’m sick and tired of the way this heartless bastard treats you. And I’m not going to stand around anymore and let you take it! She pounded on the table with her fists. A dish fell on the floor with a loud crash.

"Mom, he’s my husband!"

He’s a worthless, cheating piece of crap who thinks with his …

Daddy bellowed to the boys and me, Get up the stairs. Now! Move it! He sounded like a bullhorn.

We ran up the stairs and at the top hung over the railing to listen. All we could see were shadows. Daddy looked so dangerous as he hovered over Mommy and Nanny. The light from the dining room kept flashing, making it even scarier.

You should’ve kept your fat mouth shut, Tony said to me, giving me a shove.

Mario pushed Tony back. Shut up. It’s not her fault.

You stay out of this, you nosy old battle-ax, Daddy warned. He poked Nanny’s chest with his finger.

What are you going to do, beat me like you used to beat her? She pushed his hand away. You don’t scare me, you little man.

I never beat your daughter!

MOM! Mommy yelled. Shut up, please! Max barked even louder.

Get that damned dog the hell out of here! Daddy ripped the tablecloth off the table and everything left on the table tumbled on the floor with a thud. Shut up, you stupid dog! Daddy gave Max a quick kick in the ribs. Max yelped, ran and hid behind Nanny.

You shut up! Nanny shouted.

No, you shut up! Daddy roared. Or I’m gonna throw you out of my house!

Go ahead. I’d like to see you try.

Don’t push me, old woman. Daddy was just inches away from her.

Mommy screamed at him to get out and Max’s bark seemed to echo her. Tony and Mario ran downstairs, clutched Daddy around the waist and begged him not to go. Nanny shouted, Don’t let the door hit you in the ass!

I’d really done it. I not only broke Mommy’s heart but their hearts, too. Why didn’t I run downstairs and beg Mommy to let Daddy stay? Why did I want him to leave? Is it wrong to want to be happy? And not have to worry about somebody yelling or hitting you for no reason? I’ll be happy when we can sit at dinner and not have him suddenly get mad and smash a chair in the middle of the table. He hates us. How come Nanny and I are the only ones who see it, accept it, and want to move on? I guess I must be as bad a daughter as he always said I was.

Get up stairs and mind your business, old woman, before I give you the back of my hand, Daddy threatened Nanny. He raised his hand to hit her and that made my heart race.

That’ll be the last thing you ever do, you no good dago bastard!

I’m warning you, old woman.

Go ahead and hit me, you coward!

I saw the shadow of his hand raise higher as if this time he really was going to hit her. That’s when I raced down the stairs. I don’t even know what came over me. I grabbed Mommy’s pink porcelain vase and lifted it over Daddy’s head, ready to smash him. It felt cold in my hands.

If you touch her, I swear to God I’m going to hit you with this, I warned him.

Put that down, you little bitch, before I blister your ass! The veins on his neck popped out and looked like they were going to explode.

GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! Mommy screamed with her hands clapped over her ears. The dog jumped up on Daddy and barked.

Daddy, Daddy, don’t go! Mario and Tony cried as they pulled on his arms.

Get down, Daddy spat and pushed the boys and Max away. But they continued to whine at him. Only his attention was fixed on me. I told you to put that thing down now! He looked like he was going to hit me, but I wasn’t going to back down. I felt like I was frozen.

I swear to God, I’ll hit you if you touch her! I shouted over the racket. Nanny pushed me aside and screamed, Get out of here, you no good dago bastard! He threw his arms up in the air and cried, Now you’ve turned my own daughter against me! You’re all against me!

GET OUT! GET OUT! BEFORE I CALL THE COPS! Mommy screeched at the top of her lungs.

He stormed out of the house with Max barking and nipping at his heels. He slammed the door behind him. You’ll all be sorry! he yelled. God damn it, you’ll all be sorry!

The boys ran out after him. Mommy collapsed to the floor in a crying heap. Nanny put her arms around her to comfort her. I stood there still holding the vase over my head. I shook from the depths of my soul. I don’t know how long I stood there like that. The realization that I wanted to hit my father paralyzed me with guilt. I wanted to hit my father.

I forced him to walk out. He’ll never come back. He’s right … we’ll all be sorry. One way or another, we’ll be sorry. And it was all my fault. How could I ever fix this? I love Mommy and Nanny. I was only trying to protect them. He was going to hit them. I know he was. I couldn’t let him do it. I couldn’t let him hurt them. So I ended up hurting them even worse. Maybe I’ve just been thrown out of heaven on to the path that goes straight to hell.

I always try to be good, to be perfect, but somehow I always end up doing bad things. What is that saying the nuns always use? The path to hell is paved with good intentions.

Maybe I shouldn’t confess how I really feel about Daddy. He is my father and I think I love him sometimes. But I don’t even know if he loves us.

Mommy loved him, though. For her, everything revolved around Daddy. He always came first, even before us kids. She always used to say that he was the love of her life and the best looking man she’d ever seen. She said she was lucky to have him. But I think she knew other women wanted him for themselves.

I guess I’m not too surprised. A lot of the women in our neighborhood thought he was good looking. They flirted with him—from the most beautiful like the redheaded Mrs. Kelly to the fattest like Mrs. cradle. When I look at it objectively, I know what they see. Tall. Black hair. Blue eyes. A successful contracting company. Well-built. It makes women look at you. I hated when they did it in front of Mommy, as if she didn’t exist. I also hated how Daddy ate it right up, with no thought of how it must have hurt her. Mommy never said anything, though. I don’t think I could be that understanding. I’d never let anyone treat me like that.

Daddy never appreciated Mommy’s beauty because he was always too busy trying to impress every other woman on the planet. I love her hair. It’s thick and black, not blonde like mine. The twins, Mario and Tony, look just like her. At 14, they’re already the tallest guys in their class. But I’m petite and have blue eyes, just like Mommy. Daddy always called me his ‘recessive gene.’ I think he thought it was funny, but it hurt.

That’s true even when it came to school. Mommy and Daddy didn’t care what I did there. They never even asked about my report card. Well, so much for the tenth grade. Somehow I doubt eleventh grade will be much better.

AUGUST 8—Thursday

And the hits keep coming.

Today Mommy informed us that we’ve lost our house—our beautiful house with the big pillars that Daddy built. I loved to sit on the porch to watch thunderstorms, the seasons change or to write in my diary. I always sat in the swing and looked up at the midnight blue porch ceiling. That ceiling always seemed like it needed little stars painted on it because it looked so much like the sky does in the middle of the night.

I spent a ton of afternoons on that swing drawing and writing to the sounds of Daddy’s music as it drifted through the screens. Daddy loved opera. Especially singers like Caruso and Lanza, who Daddy swore was the best tenor ever born. Sometimes he’d play Elvis. I like opera okay, but it’s Elvis I love the most. My favorite song is It’s Now or Never. I like that it’s a cha cha set to the music of O Solo Mio—I think that’s the right spelling. It’s now or never/Come hold me close/Kiss me, my darling/Be mine tonight/ Tomorrow will be too late/It’s now or never/My love won’t wait Cha, cha, cha. Whenever I listened to that song, I always dreamed of dancing real close with a tall, dark, handsome guy. Ah, how romantic. Now it seems like a whole lifetime ago.

The fact is that Daddy’s disappeared and Mommy’s trying to raise three kids, her mother and a dog on barely minimum wage. To this day, we haven’t even mentioned that awful night. Everyone pretends as if it never happened. But I’m still haunted by it. I think about it every day and every day it hurts just as much. What can I do? I have to keep going.

I’ve tried to help. My job at McDonald’s doesn’t bring in much. Mommy doesn’t want me to work anyway. She said I’d have the rest of my life to work. Besides, it wasn’t enough to save the house.

I can’t bear to leave here. I love this house. I don’t know how she can walk away from all this. She said she hates this house because it’ll always remind her of Daddy. We have to be out by the end of the month. We begged her to stay in town. She said she’d try.

I’m trying not to think about things too much. This whole mess has Mommy and Nanny arguing and it makes it hard for me to sleep at night because it’s all my fault. I should’ve never told Nanny about Mrs. Kelly. At least we’d still be living here. I’ve ruined everybody’s lives.

I’ve even dreamed that I hit Daddy with the vase. Sometimes, I’m knocking on this big, black wooden door and Daddy answers, but he’s really Satan. Sometimes, I’m in a fun house looking in one of those funky mirrors and I see Daddy’s image, not mine. It’s distorted and laughing at me. I get mad and I smash the mirror with the vase. Then I wake up. These dreams terrify me. As much as I hate thinking about them, I can’t help myself. I wish they would go away.

Besides work and my family’s problems, summer’s been sort of fun. Thank God for having a best friend like Michelle. She tried to keep my spirits up. She even had a few pool parties. Lots of people came, including the tall, blond and handsome Greg Menta, who is as dreamy as ever. All the girls have a crush on him.

I spent the whole summer trying to avoid Denny Drake. How come the short, geeky, best friend of the guy I like always likes me? I constantly get asked out by guys I’m not interested in and the guys I am interested in are out of my league or already taken. And I am definitely not wasting my first date on someone I don’t like.

Last year I went to two proms, both with Michelle’s older brother Jack. They don’t count as real dates to me because I only went as a favor. He couldn’t get a date. Jack’s okay, but he’s too much of a brainiac for me. He’s a good dancer, though. I laughed when he tried to kiss me good night. It felt like kissing one of my brothers good night. So much for that.

I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, but this summer seems to have passed me by without a single date. This isn’t at all how I envisioned my life. I thought for sure that by now I’d have a boyfriend, especially since Mommy is okay with me going out. I thought that maybe I’d be on my third boyfriend at least.

I sort of understood why I never had a boyfriend before. Daddy wouldn’t let me out of the house. But secretly, I was always willing to sneak out if it were the right guy. But that never happened. I suppose you don’t meet many guys when you go to a Catholic girls school.

Michelle is in the same boat as me. She’s never had a date either. She’s never even been to a prom with someone’s brother. I don’t know why guys don’t go for me, but I can guess why it’s hard for Michelle to get a date—her height. At 5’10", she towers over most guys. I guess they find her intimidating. She’s not exactly petite either. Not that she’s fat. She’s just ‘strapping,’ as my brothers call her. Her face is pretty, even delicate. It kind of doesn’t go with her build. And nobody has more beautiful auburn hair than Michelle does. God, I wish I had her hair.

No matter what the reasons, neither one of us have ever had a boyfriend.

But now, I’m allowed to date and I still can’t get a date? What’s up with that? So how come other girls in my class have boyfriends? What’s wrong with me?

I am dying to have a real kiss … a kiss that’s full of passion. I don’t know. With the rate I’m going, I’m going to end up a spinster who’s never been kissed.

AUGUST 15—Thursday

I’m going to public school. Mommy told us today that she couldn’t afford the tuition for Catholic school. I’m losing everything I love! What will I do without Michelle when I move and I can’t see her in school? When I told her, we both held each other and cried. We’ve been best friends since forever. Oh God, please don’t take her away from me.

I can’t imagine what my life will be like in a new school and a new neighborhood, especially without Michelle. She’s the only person in my life I can talk to about anything. That’s because I know she’s not going to make fun of me or think badly of me. She’s the only reason why I’m getting through this whole thing with Daddy leaving and losing the house.

I can’t talk to Mommy because I think she hates me. I guess I can’t blame her. I ruined her marriage. But Daddy was a terrible man and I hate the way he used to bully her. I wish Mommy could see how much better things are without him. We can actually have dinner without worrying about Daddy getting mad and throwing things.

AUGUST 18—Sunday

Two bits of news. Mommy rented a house in town, YEAH! We’ll move in at the end of the month. It took a lot of begging, but Michelle convinced her parents to enroll her in Kirklyn Senior High—as long as she goes to church every Sunday. Hallelujah! Thank you God for hearing my prayers. Maybe life won’t be so bad after all.

AUGUST 20—Tuesday

Michelle and I went to Kirklyn High School and got tested. So this is where all the heathens get their education. Now that I’m going directly to hell, I think it’s only fitting that I’m going to public school. Why waste money and time on my religious education?

The school looks like a big three story, gray rectangle with orange rimmed windows. It’s really modern and really ugly. Holy Innocents may have been built a million years ago, but it has beautiful architecture like marble columns and floors and intricate dark woodwork. At least it looks like somebody took the time and cared what the building looked like. Kirklyn Senior High looks like somebody just threw the place up.

I was a little nervous about taking the test because I didn’t know what public school kids learned. But the test was easy. Maybe the nuns weren’t lying when they told us we got a better education in catholic school.

Michelle and I have to come back in two days to pick out our courses. We plan to have all the same classes together. It’ll be fun to be in a new high school and meet new guys. Maybe we’ll get lucky and finally get asked out. We’re hoping we’ll both fall in love and go out on double dates all the time.

Speaking of dates, Mommy has a date for Saturday night. Weird. Tony and Mario don’t know and she doesn’t want them to know. They would definitely freak out.

AUGUST 22—Thursday

The nuns were right. We all have our crosses to bear. Although some crosses are lighter to carry than others. We got back our test results from Kirklyn High. Michelle and I can’t have any of the same classes together except drama because I’m in a higher ‘track’ than she is. Bummer. At least we’ll still see each other every day.

We’ve been packing up to move in a few days and I’m really depressed about it. I don’t want to leave here. I sit on the porch every chance I get so I can be sure to remember every square inch of it. I’ve even tried to draw it, but for some reason what my mind sees and what my hand draws are not the same.

Mario and Tony have been acting really bad. Last night Nanny had to punish them for breaking a lamp. They don’t want to go and they miss Daddy. I think Mommy is ready to kill them. At least she yells at them. She doesn’t even speak to me. When I tried to apologize to her about what happened that night, she told me she didn’t want to hear it. She said, Go write it down in that stupid flowered diary of yours. Oh, and be sure to lock it. In case you haven’t noticed, no one else cares what you think. I don’t think I’ve ever cried harder in my whole life.

Still no word from Daddy.

AUGUST 31—Friday

Today we moved into our new house.

JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH! THIS PLACE IS A SHIT HOUSE!

Leave it to Nanny to tell it like it is. It’s not a single house like before. It’s a rundown, two story, brick row house. The window frames are peeled and need painting. There’s cement missing between some of the bricks and the rainspout is hanging off the side of the house. The front yard is a postage stamp of brown, dry dirt. There are about 25 of the same brick houses all lined up on both sides of the street. No backyards, just a concrete alley. Now I know why we couldn’t ‘fit’ the aboveground pool.

Wow. I can’t believe we’re living here. I don’t know if I can bring my friends, except for Michelle, home to this. I can’t let them know how far we’ve fallen …

I suppose there’s one redeeming feature—the big maple in front of the house. It’s the only tree on the street. It looks like it’s so brazen, thriving where no other form of vegetation would dare to grow. Best of all, it’s ours.

I’ve never lived in a row house before. It seems so small, but it’s the best Mommy can do under the circumstances. There’s a small living room that was painted white about fifty years ago. Straight through the living room, through a large archway, the dining room looks the same as the living room. To the left, there’s a door to a long and narrow kitchen. Nanny said that the stove is so old, George Washington probably used it.

I can already tell we won’t be able to fit most of our furniture in the house. And, it’s too pretty. It’ll look completely out of place. It looks like we’ll have to scale down. I know it must break my mother’s heart to have to sell her prized antiques. But at least we’ll have some extra money.

Even though I know there wasn’t a choice, I still cried every night this week. But I tried to put up a brave front when I was around Mommy and the boys and look at the bright side. I haven’t figured out what the bright side is yet, but I hope I figure it out soon. Every time the twins complained, I always took Mommy’s side, even though I secretly knew how they felt.

The house has three bedrooms. The twins will share the second biggest bedroom. Nanny has the smallest bedroom, painted a ‘lovely’ shade of pumpkin. I have to share the front bedroom with Mommy. How weird! I have no privacy. Sometimes I like to get up in the middle of the night when everybody is asleep and the house is quiet to draw or write in my diary. Those days are over. On top of that, Mommy insisted on decorating the room in hot pink. She said it’s her favorite color and Nanny wouldn’t let her have hot pink when she was growing up. Daddy wouldn’t let her have it either. Now she’ll decorate the room any way she wants. Even if I hate it, which I do.

Mommy and I have never been close, but now we barely get along. The least little thing upsets her. I know it’s been hard on her since Daddy left, but it’s been hard on us, too—especially the twins. She never wants to talk about it. I guess it’s better to keep my mouth shut. I noticed she threw out the pink vase.

This neighborhood is so different from Baker Street. First of all, everybody here seems to be Greek. Hardly anyone speaks good English, but they seem friendly enough.

There’s a trash-strewn, blacktop playground at the top of the street. The swings and stuff for little kids are gone, but the basketball hoops are still there without any nets. Michelle and I noticed right away there were a ton of guys playing basketball. Some of them came down and offered to help us move in our stuff. I’ve never been around so many good looking guys. I was glad Mommy let Michelle come and help us move. We might get lucky and finally snag ourselves boyfriends.

Every time a guy talked to one of us, the other laughed. God, I was so embarrassed. I hope I get used to talking to guys I don’t know. I never know what to say. I’m always afraid I’ll say something stupid. But it is exciting to meet new people. Maybe this is the bright side of the situation I hadn’t thought of. Wow! What a great way to start our