The Gun Wants Me *currently writing and editing*

Chapter 44

Copyrights 2015 © Elena Sgro

All Rights Reserved

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Chapter 44:

His voice was gruff as if he was holding something back. His chest vibrating against my ear as he spoke and his fingers continued to twirl in my hair. I felt myself snuggling impossibly closer to him. Wanting to comfort him in anyway possible. To hear him continue on so causally after telling me his father had passed. It was almost unnatural. 

The fear of him closing off from me made me sit up. My eyes searching for him in the darkness, the very faint light only giving me an outline of him. The warmth of his fingers on my arm that was supporting my body made me jump. I relaxed instantly as his hand traveled up my arm skimming over my shoulder, under my shoulder blade and down the side of my body. 

"I was young, had broken my arm and had to go to the emergency to get the bones restructured. Back then I had no idea what my Dad did. Thought he was some business man." He laughed. 

His laugh was strained, painful almost and it struck a nerve deep down in my heart. Part of me was enlightened to hear about D'Angelo's childhood. The other part was nervous and sorry that the story he was telling wouldn't be a pleasant one. 

"He was always there you know?" His voice was soft and filled with pride as he continued. "He always made time for me no matter how busy he was. He was there more than my mother" 

His tone turning bitter at the mention of the vile woman. I shifted the weight on the arm that was holding me up. My hand brushing against D'Angelo's fingers. Instantly I intertwined our fingers wanting to give him some sort of comfort to help with his mother. I knew it was wrong but I hated everything about that woman. The fact that she wasn't there for her son when he was young proved that she wasn't the maternal woman he needed in his life. There was no warmth in her, no compassion, I could tell when I had first met her and it was even more evident when she came to visit D'Angelo in the hospital. She wasn't responsible for raising D'Angelo to be the man he was today. No, that was all his grandparents and his father and I couldn't be more thankful for them. 

“I woke up in the hospital and he was right there.” He went on. “He was smiling at me and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I couldn’t look at him because I was supposed to be a Calabrese and I’d faint because I broke my arm, I was so weak.”

I bit my lip, my heart pouring out for D’Angelo. Even at such a young age he felt the need to be tough. He was only a little boy and yet he had punished himself because he thought he was weak. It angered me, he was only a boy but part of his upbringing had made him grow up to fast. That he was taught that he couldn’t cry or show weakness. The tightening of his voice told me he thought it was wrong, but then there were the moments I had with him, where this D'Angelo didn’t exists. The D'Angelo I knew and loved was open to me, most of the time, but he didn’t hide his emotions, he didn’t hide his pain. There were so many sides to D’Angelo, and only now was I seeing this one.

“He laughed, said that I was able to show my emotion, that I was only young that I was going to get hurt and that it was okay to cry, but I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t, Nonno had always said to never show my pain, to always keep myself reserved. It’s how we’re supposed to be. My last moments with my father and I couldn’t even look at him, and I’ll forever carry that with me. It didn’t realise that at the time but I hate myself for it now.”

My brow furrowed at him. The darkness keeping my facial expression hidden, as my stomach twisted with knots. The way he spoke it wasn’t right. He put so much pressure on himself for something that he couldn’t control.