was scared. I was broken. I am still fucking broken. I came to you, begging for your help in getting Morgan to leave me alone. But you never believed me. You called me a pussy for allowing Morgan to dominate me.”
“Matteo—”
“No. Let me finish. You want me to talk? Well I’m fucking talking.” Matteo stood up. “I never wanted Morgan. I never wanted to feel her claws dig into my skin. I never wanted to feel her men rip into my body, forcing me to succumb to the wrath of their power.” Matteo turned, tearing his dress shirt in half.
The color drained from Edwin’s face as he stared up at the pink jagged scars on his son’s back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Matteo slumped back on the couch, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I tried.” He sighed, admitting a final defeat.
“My son.” Edwin swallowed noisily. “I am so sorry.”
“Are you?” Matteo bit out.
“Matteo,” I said, not able to keep quiet any longer.
His gaze shot to mine, challenging me to speak out of turn again.
My mouth snapped closed and I folded my hands in my lap, silently apologizing to him.
“I am sorry,” Edwin repeated. “How could I not be? I’ve treated you like I never wanted you since the day you were born. I raised you in a fucking brothel. Who does that? I’ve taught you things as a boy that you shouldn’t know until you get older.”
“It’s fine,” Matteo grumbled.
“It’s not fucking fine!” Edwin bellowed, shoving to his feet abruptly. “No wonder you never wanted to see me. God, how can I ever expect for you to forgive me?”
“You can’t.”
(Matteo)
Never in my life had I watched my father beg for my forgiveness. A part of me was satisfied that he was groveling. I reveled in the fact that he felt guilty. It wasn’t right but I needed that moment at least for a little bit.
The three of us sat there in silence, the pink fucking elephant in the room, breathing in all the air surrounding us.
“Matteo.” My father’s voice dripped with pity.
“Don’t.” I raised a hand, stopping him. “Just don’t.”
Dropping my head in my hands, I let out a deep sigh. As much as I wanted to hurt him, as much as I wanted him to experience the pain I had been through, I couldn’t do anything. I just sat there. My mind brought me back to when I was a boy being scolded for something I didn’t do. But this time I did do something. I gave in because I couldn’t do anything else.
“Sir.” Mae’s soft voice pulled me back to the here and now.
I wanted to lash out. Demand for her to stop talking when I hadn’t given her permission to do so but I was tired. Exhausted. I hadn’t worked in days because I just couldn’t deal. I knew I was falling into a deep depression. I was drowning. The black hole of anxiety and despair threatening to consume me. The darkness billowed around me, trying to take over my mind. I was falling, drowning in the sea of utter defeat.
“Sir,” Mae repeated, her voice becoming firm. But it sounded strange. I could hear her. I could see her beautiful face. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I was stuck. In time. In a place I didn’t want to be. I could feel the impending panic attack. The fall as I liked to call it. It usually happened whenever I tried to go to sleep. This was different. It was harder and more intense.
“Matteo.” At that point my father sat beside me, clapping a hand on my nape.
I tried shoving him off but it didn’t work. I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
“Sir.” Mae rose to her knees and cupped my cheeks. “Breathe, my love. Hear my voice. Think of me and see only me. Please,” her voice wavered. “Matteo.”
My chest constricted, tightening to the point of painful. My lips became parched as I tried to swallow. This wasn’t normal. A tingle shot up my left arm, piercing straight through to my heart. I gripped my chest, breathing in short bursts of air. Fuck me. It hurt. I hunched over, digging my fingers into my peck. God. Shit.
“Matteo.” Mae’s voice. A scream.
“Shit.” My father.
I couldn’t focus. My vision faded in and out. All I heard was “ambulance” and “heart attack”.
I was done, falling victim to the darkness, with a smile on my face.
Matteo
“My baby boy. Wake up. Mama is so proud of you. I love you. I