Life can surprise you sometimes, sometimes it's in the best way possible. But there are always those times life slaps you in the face... again.
Luca’s POV.
They say getting things off your chest can help the healing process. In a lot of ways it’s true. Telling Caden has helped me in many ways. I no longer feel like I can’t speak to him about things. At the same time, I have a hard time seeing how he’s still here. I know he pities me now, and who could blame him? No one, that’s who, no one. A lot of times he looks at me different. Cautiously, almost planning how he will speak to me next. I don’t like seeing the caution in his eyes. I understand it, really, I do. But I don’t want to see it there. I despise seeing pity and sympathy in his eyes. I’ve never despised anything before… and now I despise the way he looks at me? Or is it just that I don’t believe I deserve him to stay? I guess I’ll never really know.
One thing’s certain, he’s a persistent person. He does his best to not go to school. He makes excuses and tries every trick in the book. I love him for it, I really do. But I also want him to get on with his life again. I want him to live a happy life, full of opportunities, not to stay by my beside and waste his life. It’s not right, and I cannot allow him to continue.
He procrastinates; Monday, knowing what is coming, and not wanting to face the facts. I listen to him. Allowing him to speak his mind and to tell me why he doesn’t want to go to school. Of course I know why, he doesn’t want to leave me. He feels guilty – unnecessarily so – and thinks I will hate him for leaving me. The truth is I love him more for going, which he does. I explain to him the importance of time away from me. I tell him I love him, he smiles. A bright goofy grin that melts my heart. Does he know what smiles like that do to me? They light up his whole face and make him look so beautiful, so stunningly beautiful.
“I’ll be back after school, straight after. I love you.” He leans forward, kissing me gently before he walks out the door.
“I love you too,” I whisper to the closed door.
Before I can pick up anything, the door opens and nonnino walks in, smiling. He walks with a small limp now, unnoticeable unless you know what to look for. His face crumples slightly when he sees me watching him, the smile slips from his lips.
“No need to worry, Luca.”
“What happened?”
He shakes his head gently. “Don’t worry yourself with my little problems. They are nothing like the ones you have, my dear boy. Nothing at all.”
“Nonnino, you can’t expect me to not worry. I never saw you look like this before… You look ill.”
Sorrow flickers in his eyes, and in that brief moment, I know more than I want to. He lowers his head, not looking me in the eyes. I want to demand answers. I want to say so much, and yet, I don’t. I stay silent because silent is the way I have always been. Silence is my way of dealing with the tough times. And times don’t get tougher. A feeble hand squeezes my shoulder and I look up into the eyes that say so much and yet so little. Those eyes are ones I have trusted my whole life.
“It is nothing like that,” he says. “I am not a young man no more.”
He says the words and I want to believe him, I really do. Is it as simple as ignoring what my brain tells me? No. Of course there will always be something. Our eyes meet and he sees those emotions in me. My internal battle rages inside me, trying my patience until I feel like I’m standing on an edge with nowhere left to go. Nonnino grabs my hand and squeezes, his eyes plead with me, begging to let it go. But I can’t. How can I? How can I believe something when I can see the truth in plain sight?
“Do not fight it, Luca. Trust in me. You don’t need to anything but trust me in.”
“I trust you nonnino, ti amo,” I whisper, uselessly.
He smiles ruefully at me. “Ti amo, Luca. You always know I love you. You, my boy, are my boy, my precious boy. I would never wish you harm or sadness. So be happy. Be happy with the boy who gives you his heart.”
“Do you like Caden? What do you think of him, nonnino? I want to know.”
“I think the boy loves you,” he says, “He loves you very much. I believe he would do anything for you. I see it, you see, when you were first brought in to the hospital, he never leaves once, he stays. I don’t know much about teenage boys anymore, not as much as I like to claim. But he reminds me of me, when I first met your nonnina.” I smile at him for saying that. “Luca, at the end of the day, love is what drives us. And I know without a doubt, that boy loves you. I see it in his eyes, in the way he smiles at you.”
Clearing my throat, I ask him, “Is it as obvious I love him?”
He laughs, loudly. Is it because the question is stupid or because he doesn’t want to answer? “Luca, you look at that boy like he is the only one in the room. I would say you are both, eh, even, when it comes to that.”
The thought is surprisingly comforting. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like the idea of showing my emotions so freely. But at the same time, I don’t want people thinking I dislike Caden. I love him with all my heart and I wish I could be what he needs me to be, not just another person. Unfortunately, I am not a very confident person, and I cannot change who I am overnight. Maybe he’ll get tired of me eventually, but for now, I will do my best to show him as much love as I can. He’s already accepting things, albeit with pity and sympathy. But it’s not running away, so I guess I will learn to accept it with time. Or maybe his perception of me will change and he won’t see me as a weak victim. One can only hope.
“Give the boy time, I’m sure we all did thing we regret back then. It’s only natural to hurt for the ones you love.”
I gasp, feeling my heart beating faster. “You know?” I ask with a tremor in my voice.
He nods, looking non-judgemental. “Your brother tells me things when I ask. But I can see it in the boys actions now, the way he acts around us, watching us. I think he suspects we might all hurt you, and in many ways it is a very, very good thing.”
“He shouldn’t suspect any of you, none of you did anything wrong. But I guess I get why he does… I just wish,” sighing, I look away.
“You just wish what?” He prods.
“I wish I didn’t have to tell anyone. I wish there was nothing to tell. Caden’s been great, why he loves me is anyone’s guess. But I just wish there was nothing that made me different, made me pitied. Michael… He… He hated me so much and I hate that I wasn’t loved by him. As a kid, I wanted to be loved by him, and when I wasn’t, it didn’t matter as much to me as it should have. I just didn’t want everyone else suffering, and that’s what ended up happening.” My emotions pour out of my mouth. The frustration I feel slips out, verbal diarrhoea was never something I suffered with, but right now, I can’t stop it.
Nonnino sees my frustration, he tries to calm me, but nothing he can do works. I ramble on about how unfair it all is. I blurt out how bad I feel about myself. Tears soon follow, falling from my eyes onto my cheeks, the bed, and nonnino. He places his hand over my mouth, cutting off the words coming from my mouth and he pulls me closer to his body. He climbs onto the bed, cuddling me like a small child. With everything finally bubbling over, I begin to sob into his chest. It feels as if all I do is cry.
He sooths me. Every chance he gets, he tells me not to feel the way I do. His comfort warms the cockles of my heart. I fist his shirt in my hand as I continue to cry, while he continues to offer me comforting words, and a soothing hand stroking my back and my hair. Like a child, I cuddle even closer to him. His warmth brings back memories of my childhood, the days I would spend cuddled up on a sofa with him. Before the abuse and before I broke, they are some of the best memories of my life. Nonnino always knew what I liked, peace, quiet, and tranquillity. He has always offered those things, and more. He likes a lot of the things I like, and now he knows what I need without me having to tell him.
Tensing, I start to calm down, worry floods through me like a dam breaking. I hate feeling like I’m hurting those around me and by losing it, that is exactly how I feel. Sleepiness overcomes me after a while. Unable to do anything, I close my eyes and allow tiredness to take hold. He pulls me closer and leans back, rocking me to sleep in his arms.
I wake the next morning with Caden fast asleep in my bed. Nonnino is sleeping in the chair beside my bed, his head tilted back. I watch his breathing, in and out, in and out, making sure his chest moves as it should. Caden stirs slightly and I turn to look at him. He even looks beautiful as he sleeps. His hair, now slightly longer than before, is dishevelled, going in many different directions. His milky white skin calls to be kissed, loved, and cherished. I place a gentle kiss on his cheek and a smile forms on his face. His eyes open and meet mine, the smile reaching his eyes.
“Good morning, angel,” he whispers, before kissing me gently.
“I love you,” I blurt out. The words sounding oh so right. They don’t make me sick to say anymore. Like somehow I am starting to accept that he really can love me, and not just that he says them because he has to. It makes me feel like I can love, too, and not just love in silence.
A slow, easy grin forms on Caden’s face. “I love you too, angel. I love you so much.”
He pulls me closer to his body and we stare at each other. I don’t feel awkward with nonnino there. He’s sleeping soundly, which is enough for me. Instead, I concentrate on Caden’s grey eyes. They hold so much emotion it makes my breath catch, and my heart beat rapidly in my chest. He holds me close, almost like he is afraid of letting me go. I don’t understand it any more than I have in the past, but now I know he wants to give this a go. Whatever this is. I long to be able to say it’s love, and not just familial love. But true love. A love that stands the tests of time and never extinguishes. It’s silly for me to believe it, especially, considering; Caden will meet new people, better people, and will fall in love again.
“Stop thinking like that, angel. No one will come between us. I love you and only you. Not God, not the devil, not our family, and definitely not strangers. So you better gets used to me,” he smirks.
I smile shyly, “Don’t worry yourself if you fall for someone else, I’ll never hate you for it.”
Something liken to sadness flickers in his eyes before he closes the gap between us, kissing me lovingly. Our breath mingles as his lips brush mine. His tongue swipes mine, making me moan soundlessly. I’m lost in the sensation of his mouth against mine. His hands cradle my head as he takes complete control of our kiss, pouring all the emotion he can into it.
“Calm yourselves boys, there’s someone in the room with you.” Nonnino’s voice breaks through the cloudiness in my head.
“Sorry, Angelo. Couldn’t help myself.” Caden smirks at him and he chuckles. I hide my head under the crook of Caden’s neck while he and nonnino exchange snarky remarks.
Nonnina comes to take nonnino home, and orders Caden out of the room. She winks at me before closing the door. Alone at last, I take the time to gather my thoughts. I need the time to get my feeling together, to make sense of all the overpowering emotions at play in my head. I pull myself out of bed and wander into the hall, tell the nurses I’m going to shower, and head for the shower. I watch the water streaming in a pool at the foot of the shower. I wonder if what it would be like to wash away with the water. To be taken away with the water and leave nothing behind. To feel as free as the waves in the middle of the ocean. It must be freeing and exhilarating. Can people ever really leave without issue?
Questions swirl around my head as I wash. My eyes follow the water around my feet. The smaller splashes and the lagers ones, all of them do something to the water, sort of like life in a way. All our lives make some difference, even if that difference is only the size of a tiny organism. Just like me. My death would cause a ripple effect in people’s lives, some might not even notice it, but others, like Caden or mamma, would. It’s thought provoking, real, and scary. I can influence people’s lives simply by living or dying.
“Luca, are you ready for our next session?” The psychiatrist voice is solid, strong, even. Not one sign of his voice being anything other than professional.
“Yeah… I’m ready when you are… I guess.”
I don’t look up, not because I’m afraid. For the first time in my life, it’s not because of fear. But simply because I have too much going on in my head. It’s taking over much more life than it should. But my thoughts are overpowering my ability to function in the real world. They suck me from reality and drag me down with them. He doesn’t speak again, and I know it’s because he wants me to look up.
Tearing my eyes from the floor, I look up and meet his. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, want to talk about your thoughts?”
“Just… I don’t know. I was thinking about life. How one life can make a huge impact without doing much, living, dying, it all makes an impact. Sometimes it’s huge – and affects millions – other times it might only affect one person. But at the same time, anyone can affect one person. You don’t have to be particularly famous or special to do so.”
His face remains impassive, but his eyes express his shock. “That’s some pretty heavy thinking you’ve been doing. How does this type of thing start?”
“Nonnino – my grandfather – he’s sick. Like, dying sick. He had cancer before I was born. He told I helped heal him the first time, before I was even born I impacted hugely on my family’s lives. He’s old now, dying. I’ll have to say goodbye to him pretty soon. But he’d be dead already if I had died,” I push the sadness to the back on my mind. “Caden, too. His whole life revolves around me now. He said it’s been like that since we met. But I didn’t do anything spectacular to make that happen. All I have to do is live. It’s strange, you know? I don’t know how all of it can be so… simple? No, not the right word. I just don’t get how someone as unimportant as me can make such a huge impact on so many people.”
The psychiatrist clears his throat, almost like he’s buying his time. “Well, does that surprise you? You’ve always known your family loves you.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to explain this. “It’s not that I didn’t know they love me.”
“Then what is it? Why would your living or dying not impact them? It doesn’t really make much sense.”
He really won’t get it. “I never saw myself as equal to other people. I’m a whore, a freak, someone who isn’t worth loving. Those feeling don’t go away because someone says something to oppose that. I’m still the same person I was back then.”
For a split second, I expect him to say something about God creating everyone for a reason. “Yes, you’re the same person you were back then. Your physical appearance has changed, but not the person,” he continues with a smirk. “You’re also the same person your mother gave birth to. The same small baby that made an ill man fight for life. You are still that innocent little boy who just wants to be loved. Nothing has changed about you but your perception of yourself.”
Are things ever really that simple?
“I… I…” He has stunned me. I’m not used to feeling… things… these things are all so unbelievably powerful. “I never got that before. I guess it makes sense in some ways, but at the same time… I don’t know I saw a younger me when I was in the coma. I mean, I went through things in my past. And he was there, every step of the way…”
“Sometimes our subconscious can be our best friend. Did it help you find peace with anything in your past?”
I nod, unable to form a coherent sentence.
“Well then, that’s all that matters at the end of the day. It’s not like you really changed, you just have to find the person you once were.”
Tears well up in my eyes. “I never cut myself as a kid, not a small one anyway. I never did those things to myself when I was small. It was only when I got older and needed something… to do something.”
“How do you feel when you cut?”
It’s a simple enough question, but one I do not know how to answer. “Nothing. Everything. I don’t really know. It doesn’t makes sense.”
“Empowered, maybe? Do you feel like you finally have something good in your life? Does it feel like you are finally taking control?” He sits forward, not in an intimidating manner, but in a more curious manner, like he doesn’t really know how I will respond. He’s eager to learn, if that is the case. His eyes shine with enthusiasm.
I shrug. “Not empowerment exactly. It’s not about having control. It’s about feeling when I can’t feel and not feeling at the same time. I don’t like my emotions. They make me feel things I don’t always want to feel and that makes it harder. You might not get what I’m trying to say, most people don’t.”
Frowning, he looks to be considering what I have said. With his head tilted to the side, he looks me in the eyes. “Are you saying you don’t want to feel anything or is it just the pain you don’t want to feel?” His tone is more reserved this time.
“No. I don’t want to feel the emptiness inside me anymore.”
“You feel empty, do you?”
He finally gets it. “Yeah, I feel empty all of the fucking time. It’s what I meant when I said I felt everything and nothing. Emptiness can feel, but it’s also unfeeling. Unless you’ve felt like that before, you can’t really understand what I’m talking about.”
“You’re right. Most people won’t understand that feeling, not even I completely understand, but I do know how you are feeling. I know a lot of people feel that way,” he replies. “We can work on ways of helping you feel better, but that will require a lot of work. Lucas. You need to put a lot of work and dedication into this.”
“Luca,” I correct him.
“I’m sorry?” He asks with a smirk.
“My name… It’s Luca, not Lucas.” I can see the genuine smile forming on his face.
“You just corrected me; I don’t think you would have done that before Christmas, would you?” I shake my head, trying not to smile. He’s right. I wouldn’t have corrected him before that. “I think that shows you something. It shows that you are, and can, improve.”
It makes sense, what he’s saying makes sense. “I guess. You’re right, though. Before Christmas I wouldn’t have corrected you. I’m kinda used to people calling me Lucas anyway. It happened before.”
“Do you like being called Lucas?”
Sighing, I shake my head. “No, but you kind of get used to it. I mean, they could call me worse. But I… Luca and Lucas are two different names.”
He laughs a real hearty laugh that sends shockwaves down my spine. I didn’t mean it as a joke. I didn’t say it so he would laugh; I’m just telling the truth. So he either finds me funny, or he’s laughing at me. He seems too nice to be laughing at me, so he finds what I said funny. Okay… So that’s something I’ll have to get used to.
“Luca,” he says still laughing. “I think you’ll be fine once we get you back to your normal, happy self. You don’t actually realise how funny you are, but trust me, you are.”
“Thanks…” I think.
I sit there as he laughs, again. He definitely seems to find something funny. What that is, I don’t really know. But if it’s something I’ve said, I guess it can only be a good thing. At least he’s not laughing at me. Right? That has to be an improvement. People normally laugh at me because of something I’ve said, not laugh because I’m actually funny. His whole body shakes with laughter. It’s almost humorous to watch him. His face has gone red, tears are streaming down his cheeks, and he’s hunched over, laughing even harder. A small smile forms on my lips. I can’t help but see the fun in all of this. It’s definitely not how I envisioned this session – or any session for that matter –going.
“I think you’re doing very well, Luca. I want to see you a bit more than I had initially planned, though only because I think we can work better if we see more of each other. Before we finish, is there anything else you want to discuss? It can be absolutely anything.” He looks me square in the eye, making his intent known.
I shake my head, knowing that I need time to process everything. He doesn’t seem to change because of this. Instead, he picks up his diary and starts scribbling inside. “I’ll see you again, Friday. We can have a chat, see when you’ll be released, and go from there.”
“That’s cool, eh, what are we going to talk about next time?” I ask my voice barely above a whisper.
He smiles kindly, making sure I feel comfortable in his presence. “We can talk about anything. This is all about your recovery and helping you battle your demons. Depression and PTSD are common in survivors like yourself.”
Survivor? Is that what I really am? I’ve never seem myself as a survivor before. I just do what I have to. It’s not like I’ve made it out unscathed. I’m broken, damaged, uncaring.
“But you made it out alive.” I look up startled. “You’ve made it out alive, and you do care. If you didn’t, we wouldn’t be here talking about the issues you’re facing.”
He hands me the piece of paper with the time on it before escorting me to the door. Dante stands when the door opens, his eyes meet mine and he smiles. It feels like everyone’s smiling apart from me, and it’s starting to hurt. Why can’t I just feel happy and smiley? Why does it have to be so fuckin hard to live? Happiness seems to come easily to everyone around me and I’m the odd one out in all of it. I accept the hug he offers me and his smile doesn’t falter, even when he sees I’m not completely into the hug.
“Great news, Pooh Bear. The doctors think you might be released in a couple of weeks, that’d be good, right?”
“A couple of weeks?” I ask sceptically.
He nods, bouncing like an over-excited child. “Yep. They have to keep a close eye on you, but you haven’t tried to kill yourself since, they have you on medication and physically you’re healing. The only thing they’re worried about is your hand movement. But that isn’t so bad, is it?”
I play with my hand and wrist, noticing the stiffness for the first time. It goes to show, if you don’t pay much attention to your body, thing can go unnoticed. Things like this – my wrist moving slowly – are important enough in the grand scheme of being released from the hospital. He notices, Dante, and grabs my wrist gently. His fingers soothe my wrist, trying, and failing, to loosen it.
“It’ll be fine; you just need to give it time. I’ll bring you to get something to eat,” he reassures me. “C’mon. They’re finally serving fries downstairs.”
Dante drags me off to the café in the hospital; he orders way too much food and starts stuffing his face like a pig. Of course it’s no real surprise to me. He’s always been a big eater and has a habit of making a pig of himself. Thank god nonnina isn’t here. She would have a fit if she could see the crap he is eating. The entire table is covered in burgers, fries, onion rings, sandwiches, potato chips, and three milkshakes. That’s just his food. The only thing I’m eating is a salad, a dry, leafy green salad. And I have to sit it on my lap because he’s left no room for my teeny tiny bowl.
“You not hungry?” He asks around a mouthful of food. It’s almost funny. Almost. Then again, some would find him more disgusting or vulgar than funny. But that’s just Dante for you. He doesn’t care what people think once he has food in front of him.
I wave the salad in front of his face and smirk. “I’ve already eaten. But you’ve got enough food there for the two of us, possibly the family, so I’ll let you do the eating.”
“How’d the session go? You looking forward to working with him?” The question is whispered and he leans closer to me, not just for privacy – but that is part of it – he wants me to tell him something.
Tell him. Get it all off your chest. “Yeah, I… I can talk about things with him. I guess you want to know what we’ve talked about. Huh?”
“I want you to want to talk to me. You and I… We’ve always been close, Pooh Bear,” he squeezes my hand. “I want you to feel like you can tell me things. Like with Michael. I want you to talk to me about those letters, about the things he said.”
“He’s going to come after me. You know that. At first, I thought it was Rose; she was the one I suspected at first. But now that I know it’s him… I don’t feel safe anywhere. He’s always there. I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting to see him there.”
“He’s not going to touch you again. I called the detective who investigated him. He’s going to make sure Michael doesn’t write to you again,” he replies firmly. I wonder who he’s trying to convince, me or himself.
I shake my head, trying to stay calm. “I’m not safe as far as he’s concerned. I won’t be safe until he’s dead.”
With a sigh, Dante pushes his chair back and walks around to hug me from behind. I close my eyes and sigh. One of the hardest things I needed to tell him, and I have. It’s like a huge weight being lifted off my shoulders and now I know he won’t get angry at me. He’s hugging me! I never expected that, not in a million years. What did I expect? God knows. I think, more than anything, I expected him to say I wanted things to happen, I don’t. But it seems like that would be what people would say.
“I’ll always protect you, Luca,” he whispers in my ear with a hitch in his voice. “Always. I promise you, no one will hurt you again.”
*****
After three and a half weeks – longer than expected because I hit a rough patch – I’m finally home from the hospital. It’s strange being back after everything. I have so much to do before I can go back to school, or get back into real life. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to go back. On the contrary, I would kill to be there now, but I’m not ready for people again. Especially Jaxon and his brothers, Beth, and all the other people who think I’m the biggest freak in the world.
“You want something to eat, Luca?” Aria’s chipper voice asks.
Looking up, I watch as she hovers over me. Her eyes bore into mine, like she’s trying to see if I’ll argue with her. Of course she knows I can’t. One of the things I have to do to stay home, is eat. I need to eat at least two meals a day. Whether that be spaced out during the day, or all at once, I still have to eat – and let people see me eating. It’s a pain in the ass, one I understand completely. But all the same, it’s a pain. She frowns when I don’t answer immediately. And I notice how pale she looks. Her eyes have dark circles around them and her face is gaunt and colourless.
“You okay, Aria?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” She asks. “Don’t try to get out of this, kiddo. You promised you would eat if we brought you home.”
“You look sick is all,” I reply. “I’ll eat; I just don’t know what to eat. I don’t want to cook.”
She frowns for a minute, her eyes roaming over my face. I lean back, trying to get comfortable. I still hate people staring at me, even if it is because they care. I find it really creepy to have someone watching your every move. Others don’t seem to have a problem with it, though, so I guess it might be me.
“We can order pizza, Pooh Bear. I know you don’t want my food,” she laughs. “I forgot you ate with the pig while you were in the hospital. Don’t worry; we won’t eat enough for an army. Just enough for us.” She grabs the menu from the counter and throws it to me. “Pick whatever you can for me. Just don’t put mushrooms, or fish on it.”
“I know what you like, sis. No need to tell me.”
For that, I get a smile. Though it might be because I called her ‘sis’. Sometimes she and Dante get really weird about those kinds of things. Not that I’m complaining. It’s been a long time since I called them anything other than their whole names, the nicknames going long ago. It’s nice to see her smile. Even if she does look like she’s about to pass out. Turning away from her, I pick up the phone and call the pizza place. I place the order before looking for Aria again. She smiles, softly at me. It’s strange to describe a smile as soft, but sometimes her smiles are soft. Not like mamma’s soft smiles, Aria’s smiles are girlish.
“Pizza coming soon?” She asks as she sits down on the sofa beside me. Brushing hair away from her eyes.
“Yeah, it’ll be here in about half an hour, so we have time before it gets here.”
She smiles again, but it’s weaker. The colour is draining from her face more and more. She looks sick. I reach out and touch her brow glistening with sweat. She pulls my hand away, shaking her head gently. It’s worrying to see her looking so… so weak. I don’t remember her ever looking sick like this before, even as kids she was always strong, healthy.
“Ari, you okay?”
She stands up shaking. “Yeah, I just need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a sec.”
She races off and leaves me behind to worry. After a couple of minutes, waiting, watching the clock, I stand to go after her, but the doorbell rings. The pizza guy grunts when I answer, with a disgusted look he throws the bags and boxes in my hands before storming back to the car. When I turn back around Aria is standing there glowering. She pushes past me and sticks her head out the door.
“Don’t come back again, asshole!”
I blush, but then I hear the guys voice fire back, “Don’t send a faggot to answer the door in future!” Then the car engine starts and he drives off. I can only imagine how fast he’s driving.
She slams the door and tells me to get in, although she doesn’t seem any better, her fiery attitude is back. I blink rapidly when she pulls me into a hug, it scares me too.
“You okay? I’m sorry that asshole came here. He had no fucking right to say those things to you,” she whispers in my ear. “I am really, really sorry.”
I shake my head at her. “He didn’t say anything until you shouted out at him – thanks for that by the way. It was just the way he looked at me. Like I was the scum of the earth.” It’s not the first time I’ve encountered homophobic people like him, in Texas it was almost a daily thing.
“I don’t care, people shouldn’t care who you love. They should worry more about who they love,” she tells me. “Stupid assholes.”
“You okay now, you kinda worried me there, sis.” I’m really worried about her now; she’s never out of it like this. Not that she’s out of it, really. But she’s definitely not herself. I hate seeing my strong sister looking so sickly and weak.
Her smile is weaker again. “I’m fine, Pooh Bear. C’mon, let’s eat.”
“You sure, we could get someone if you need me to. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She hugs me again, pulling me into a vice like hug. “Pooh Bear, I’m fine, really. I’ve just got a sick stomach or something. You don’t have to – or need to – worry about me.”
I frown and she rolls her eyes. “Seriously, I’m fine. If I feel worse later, I’ll ask Abi to bring me to a doctor. Okay?” She grabs my arm and pulls. “C’mon. You know I’m fine,” she grabs a slice of pizza and pushes it into my mouth. “Now eat!”
I eye her suspiciously as we eat, she doesn’t pay much attention to me. Her smile vanishes after a while, but she doesn’t let on there’s anything wrong. Instead, she chooses to ignore me, possibly hoping I won’t notice her clutching her stomach. After three slices of pizza, she seems to give up the struggle and guzzles down two cans of coke, which doesn’t help her either. She’s sweating profusely now, and looks like she’s about to keel over. I reach out, but at the last second decide to leave her be. She won’t appreciate me hovering over her.
Again, she stands and races off to the bathroom. This time, however, I follow her to try to help. But she slams the door behind her. I knock, she doesn’t reply. It’s taking everything in me not to open the door to check on her, but if she doesn’t want me to see her sick, there really isn’t much point. Then again, I won’t know unless I open the door and look inside. In the end, I decide to leave her be. I walk away from the door, letting her know to call me if she needs me for anything, when she replies; I breathe a sigh of relief and walk back into the living room.
“Luca? You still here, Luca?” A raspy voice calls out.
“I’m in the living room. You need any help?”
A muffled sound comes from the hallway. I call out again and she doesn’t answer which sends a shiver down my spine. Without really thinking about it, I race out into the hallway and look down at Aria in a crumpled ball at the bottom of the stairs, unconscious.