Morphine (Complete)

𝟏𝟗

Chapter Nineteen

Rannia knocked on her father's door lightly, waiting for a reply. When she got none, she called out instead. "Dad?"

No answer.

"He's in his room again," one of her brothers called from down the hall. Rannia nodded and swallowed, turning to face the room her father had not left much since the accident. He didn't really like leaving. He liked it in there.

With the cold.

Knowing she would not get a reply, Rannia opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it swiftly behind her.

"Dad," she uttered.

Her words were tangible within the cool room. Metal chairs, metal floors. No plastic, no wood. Free ventilation leading directly to the outside, cutting it off from the rest of their home's functions.

"You can come in further, Rannia."

Rannia stepped closer to him.

His haunting figure shone through the moonlight peaking in through a window. It highlighted his high cheekbones and his strong stature, or what was left of it, at least. He was leant against the chair, weak. Scarred hands held his knees, and as soon as Rannia felt her eyes on them, she quickly tore her eyes away.

"You're avoiding looking at me, child," he grit out.

Rannia snapped her eyes back to her dad, brows curling a little. "I wasn't looking away."

"Don't lie." She heard the noise of his tongue clicking on his teeth. It was cold and all she wanted to do was hold him again. Hug him like she used to do.

"I'm not," Rannia repeated childishly, staring down at her feet.

"You can look at it. At me." He scoffed, waving a hand around. "The doctor's say it's art, dear."

"It's just your face."

He slowly turned, and inch by inch, bit by bit, the hidden half of his face became visible in the moonlight; a crescent turned full eclipse. It was raw, it was horrifying. Meshed flesh, reddened and scarred, ran all along the right side of his face, distorting his once handsome features into a carnal wreckage.

It used to strike some sort of pity and pain into Rannia's heart, to see her dad so hurt, so debilitated. But for the past month or so, it only struck anger in, running right down to the soles of her feet like lightning.

"Just my face," the old Romano repeated slowly. He ghosted a scarred finger over the ruined side of his face, a ghost of a breath escaping his lips when he touched it. "You can come here, child. Touch it."

Rannia stepped forward and hesitantly raised a hand to his face. When she touched it, bumps spread along her fingers. The texture, the feel, it was all so wrong. So catastrophically damaged and beyond repair.

"This is what they did to me, Nia. You don't need to be afraid. I do not hurt those I love."

"I know," Rannia replied softly. She felt her eyes beginning to line with tears. She had to bring her fist down to her side to clench it in unused rage. I love you too, dad. She wanted to say it so badly. But he was a changed man. She wasn't sure what he'd take well.

"All aside." He waved a hand as if that would dispel the clear discomfort in the cold room. "You're here for a reason, yes?"

"Yes. I-I did something."

"And?"

"I share your pain. I want them dead too, dad. They don't deserve to live so freely when..." She trailed off, unsure of how to continue. When you have to live like this? When we have so much pain and we dealt them none? Rannia didn't know. "I've been gone for a month, dad."

"A month?" His eyes took on a glossy state, lost as he stared forward, unable to focus in one eye. It was all white. The doctors wanted to remove it entirely, but her dad wanted to keep it as a memory of what once was.

An eye for an eye.

"You didn't notice that I was gone, did you?"

He shook his head slowly. Rannia's chest constricted and she resisted tears—this time, not of the angry sort. The sad kind. The hurt kind.

"I want them dead," she muttered, voice wobbly from pain.

"You're not the only one."

She looked up. "I want to do this for you, dad. I've managed to—"

"No."

Rannia jumped as he slammed a fist down on his metal chair. It rang through the air like a chime, a deadly one, and Rannia's eyes became cloudy once more as she tried to figure out how much that must've hurt him.

And how much her dad didn't care.

"He's mine to kill, that Amir." He seethed their name with so much a hatred, so much boiling distaste and disgust, that Rannia tongue began to taste sour.

"Amir's brother is already dead—"

The most terrifying rage left her father's throat. It was not a scream, it was not a noise,it was but that: rage, pure and unfiltered like the flames of Hell.

"He was mine!"

"I-I'm sorry, I thought you'd w—"

"He did this to me, Nia. This." He jabbed a hand at his ruined cheek, his jaw, his neck. "He ruined me. I cannot walk. I cannot fight. I'm a useless lying corpse just waiting for my clock to stop ticking. I can speak but it hurts, Rannia." His voice broke. "It hurts."

Their tears were silent.

"I won't touch Amir, dad, I promise."

Her dad's sobs cut off a little. When he looked up at her, she saw the slightest glint of life in his eye.

Hope.

It had been so long.

"I will take him to you," you're making promises you might not be able to keep, Nia, "I will take care of the rest, but he's yours, I promise. I'm living under his son's roof. They trust me. They know me. I can get you him."

"It's dangerous," he admitted quietly.

It was what he wanted most in the world, to have revenge on his mortal enemy. But he was putting his only daughter at risk. They both knew he could not make the decision, and so it was made for him.

"I'm doing it," Rannia whispered.

"You have to come back, Nia." He looked away, unable to meet her teary gaze with his own. "I cannot lose you. Not truly."

His unspoken words hung off his tongue, slowly loosened by the bolt that was his consciousness.

As Rannia turned to leave, she heard it slip loose. Tumbling from his lips like the broken man he was.

"Not again."

(a/n: theories? interested to know what you think of the story now that Rannia's parents have been introduced)