Chapter 14 - Crash

Sirens in the distance draw my attention. The sound of death as the ambulance arrives. The alcohol gurgles in my system, my blood rushing to my head. Blood drips from my head falling to the roof of my car. Surprised I'm not dead, I look around in slow jagged movements. 

I suppose in these moments I can think upon my days as a kid with an abusive father and suicidal mother. The hell growing up in a house, unlike home. I always wanted to be an officer growing up but when you live in a Mafia family it's laughable. 

Now at 25, in a car crash after following a lead on my missing husband, I think back. I think back on my past mistakes. My eyelids fluttered closed as rushed footsteps approached my form.

I open my eyes once again and spot Antonio calling out to me. His voice held silence as the world around me went deathly quiet. With a large frown, he proceeds to help me in the escape from the metal death trap. I look down towards my wrists, one bent in an impossible position. 

A frown of my own appears as he lies me down on the asphalt. He waves a hand in front of my face and with silence falling from his mouth he holds up two fingers. I force myself to talk only feeling the vibrations in my chest. "There's two.. fingers.. multiple sets of two.." I can tell even without hearing-- my voice is strained, I can feel it in my throat. 

He sits me up and rubs my back looking around, probably smelling the liquor on me. My as well not try to hide it. Slowly, the pudgy man gets me to stand muttering shit that I can't under his breath. I look at my destroyed Lamborghini and smirk.

That boy is costing me shit tons, I don't even drink often and I get head over heels drunk worrying myself? I shake my head to my inner monolog. Antonio leads me over to our Mercedes Maybach and I hesitantly smile at the car. I've had this car for quite some time and the memories with it run deep. 

He opens the backdoor and I climb in, the numbness still rattling me as he shuts the door with a slam. I grumble under my breath but he's probably pissed off at me so I remain mute. He climbs in the driver's side and speeds off. Leaning my head back on the uncomfortable headrest, I sigh. 

I close my eyes, my chest clawing with an unknown feeling. The feeling of anger and almost… jealousy? I open my eyes and look out the window. We drive through town and I spot a man with a German Shepherd walking on the sidewalk. The dog seems to be deeply sniffing around and the man seems to watch. Yet not too long after, we've driven past them and they're out of sight.

With a long silent sigh, I look back down at my tanned skin, the color has begun to fade slightly. My worry creases for the boy. His own skin was the pinnacle of pale, almost white as a ghost at that. Maybe in his days gone he's earned a tan to the frail color. He seems fragile and innocent but I know he's…

My thoughts trail as I spot a staggering boy. I gasped if I'm unable to breathe, all the sounds rush in and I throw myself out the car door. Anthony screams at me in anger and pulls the car over. I rush towards the boy and grab his shoulder. 

My vision clouds with tears when met with brown eyes.  I look down in shame, it's not really my boy. The submissive boy squeaks and rushes away. I rest my head in my hands. His brownish red hair, his pale blue eyes, his cute freckled cheeks. I miss him. 

A gentle large hand rests on my shoulder, "Let's go, Damien, you need to get that wrist of yours in a cast." I nod and follow after him, my soft moments evaporating as I transfer back to my original self. I sidle into the backseat, closing the door behind me as Anthony hops in the driver's seat. We speed off, the warm lights of the city in the waning sky draw my attention. The reflections flicker across my face from the window view as my eyelids fall low as usual.

Some lights hold a blinding ray as the glass in my mind shatters. His Spanish cursing compiled with the absent mother figure. My body and mind show my wars as a child. Why couldn’t they have been happy? Why did she hang herself? Why did he beat me, why was I trained so fucking ruthlessly?

I shake my head wanting to look at my phone, though I had left it behind in the demolished car. It was most likely broken anyway… 

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I sit on the checkout seat stationed in the Mafia doctor’s room based out of the mansion. “Alright, Mr. Alferenzo.” The doctor walks in holding a couple of photos most likely from the dastardly x-rays. “It seems you have a compound fracture in your wrist, so to set it we’ll need to take you into surgery.”

With a long sigh, I nod, “Let’s get this over with I’ve got shit to do…” I growl out annoyed. Not long after I’m gritting my teeth in pure pain as they execute the painful as fuck surgery. After applying the white cast I’m walking back to the front of the mansion. The dark, near-black matte interior compared alongside the grey marble was always a favorite thing of mine in this mansion. The matte black paint finishes littered about along with the beautiful greens of plants warming something in my cold bastard orphan heart.

The tall elegantly spindled snake plants anchored on either side of the front doors warm me. “Anthony, I think it’s about time we hire me a bodyguard.” He nods slowly and leads me out, Anthony has practically raised me in my years. I wish to never see him leave my side but as the wrinkles grow more visible my worries only worsen. He’s my butler, not a bodyguard. 

We walk down the steps of the mansion, the warm lamp lights guiding us towards the Mercedes. I open the door and shut it behind me. My body ragdolls in its spot as I breathe deeply, I’m physically and emotionally drained after today.

The drive to the house was long and hard. The traffic drove me to hell and my head was pounding by the time we arrived. With stumbling steps, I made my way through the house hearing my name called behind me for dinner. Hearing my name called for some Aspirin. Yet the sound of my bed calling me was the most appealing.

With messy and staggered movements I strip to my boxers and flop down on my bed. I look up and rest my hands on my chest. The images of a man dancing alongside a woman with a beautiful wedding gown plague my mind. Her bright smile and pale skin, a beautiful contrast to the darker Puerto Rican man. 

The man smiled, his raven hair combed back on this day once marked special for the two. They had a son and a blossoming love yet it crumbled. The man had cheated and never wanted the boy. His brown eyes were warm like his mother's but turned scared along with her own. 

She left him behind the day she hung from the kitchen fan. The body was cold and ghost-white- she was gone. The abuse was long and dreadful. The scars still litter my body from the glass and whips. The training to be the leader deemed perfect by this bastardly man held me by the hair. 

I sigh and close my eyes, they haunt me every night. Both the man and woman. I knew she wanted to save me but she should have tried harder. She gave up on me, she gave up on herself…