Killed On Purpose

8

The flight back home was stuffy and anxiety invoking. 

I didn't know if it was because of the turbulence or the fact that I finally had to tell Lazzaro what I had decided when we'd walk through the doors of our apartment.

"I'll go take a shower and we can order some Thai after, okay?" he said after dropping the bags in the living room, and disappeared into the bedroom. The apartment was cold this time and it wasn't because the heating was off for almost a week. I looked around and noticed almost every detail and memory Lazz and I had gathered over the period of time we had been together. I saw the framed picture of us when we first visited the Eifel tower together and couldn't stop smiling. I remembered we had asked an elder lady to take the picture, but she didn't know how so Lazz had to explain. She finally took it after too many failed attempts.

My eyes wandered over to the burnt spot on the kitchen counter of the time I had attempted to cook something and if it weren't for Lazz, I would've burned the apartment down. Surprisingly, this time, it brought a sad smile to my face.

I heard the shower go off in the bathroom so I set my bag down, took off my shoes and plopped down on the couch with a sigh. The sun was only now starting to go down and its last rays cast gold on my jeans-covered legs which was a welcoming contrast to the rainy days last week. I should've probably gotten up and changed into comfier and cleaner clothes, too, but I had no strength. The nerve-wracking feeling immobilized me.

Lazz tried being his old self when we said goodbyes to my parents and on the flight home, but I could tell it took a lot in him to do that which made my decision even harder. 

Ten more minutes passed of me abusing my lower lip to a point it almost started to bleed and letting my leg jump up and down in anticipation and anxiety. Lazzaro was supposed to come out any moment now and with each passing second, I was slowly starting to back down. I was a coward, that was clear as day. I wanted to be as honest as I could and tell him what I had decided, but I was scared of his reaction. I didn't want to hurt him even more, too. I had hurt him enough as it was. 

"L'escale Bangkok?" he suggested as he exited the bedroom now in a clean shirt, grey sweats and his hair a damp mess. I nodded absentmindedly before he reached for the phone. 

"Bonjour, je voudrais--" he started talking in french after dialling the number and I could only sit back and try to calm down my racing heart. Shit, I couldn't do this. 

"Merci beaucoup." he finished ordering and turned to me, who was probably a sweaty mess by now. "They said about half an hour." I nodded against the estimation of the food delivery, but Lazz barely noticed my state, if not at all. He walked to the kitchen and I heard him open the fridge. We had mostly cleared it out of the food that spoiled easily, but he came back with a jar of pickles. That was his snack for when he was really hungry and couldn't wait for the food. He took a seat on the other side of the couch and rested his back on the armrest, his front facing me. 

This is your moment, Willa. Do it. 

"Lazz, I want to tell you something," I uttered before I could change my mind. The moment he looked up with a pickle halfway in his mouth, my lips went dry and my heart ran to hide in my throat. I couldn't do it. His eyes still imprisoned the anger and, in a way, the betrayal, but his usual calmness made it hard to really notice it.

When I didn't speak further, he raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

We should break up, I wanted to tell him, and I opened my mouth to voice it out, but no such words came out. Instead, I said, "Can I get a pickle?"

Lazz took my expression in and did nothing for a while. He was trying to read me, no doubt, but he opted for giving me a smaller pickle instead while staying quiet. I chewed on the sour vegetable in silence and was thankful for at least not chewing on my lip anymore.  We stayed like that for a while afterwards and no one dared mention the fight or what we needed to talk about. It was so quiet around us that when the doorbell rang, it startled me. 

Lazzaro merely let the jar down on the coffee table and frowned. "That was quick," he muttered in confusion, but got up to open the door. As soon as he twisted the key, the door bursted open with such force that it collided with the wall behind it. The sound made my body jump in fright and when I turned around, the sight chilled my bones. Half a dozen black-uniformed men barged in, holding cold weapons and masks covering half their faces. Two of them had Lazzaro's chest pinned on the nearest wall before he could even process what was happening. 

"Hands behind your head, now!" one of the men holding him yelled and the other quickly patted him up and down, presumably for weapons. Another man went around the apartment and searched for God knows what before coming back empty handed and announcing to the others that all's clear. 

"What the fuck is going on?" Lazzaro finally shouted and tried getting out of their grip, but his disobedience was rewarded with a painful shove of his head to the wall. His yell of pain left uncomfortable goosebumps on my skin before I finally got to my senses and got up from my frozen stance. 

"Hey, let him go! He didn't do anything," my voice was a wavering mess of panic and fear when I tried shouting and walked closer to them, but no one paid me any attention.

"Lazzaro Morreti, you are under arrest for the murder of Angelo Morreti." the one holding his hands said as he started putting handcuffs on him, and for the first time Lazzaro went stiff. He didn't deny it nor did he fight them anymore. It was as if he embraced this accusation with open arms.

"He hasn't killed anyone. Lazz, tell them." I yelled and tried pulling him away but as soon as I touched his arm, one of the man abruptly and forcefully shoved me back, making me fall down on the hardwood with a thud.

"Don't touch her!" Lazz hissed as the men turned him around. His eyes instantly found mine and, despite the evident panic, there was some recognition, too, as if he knew this was coming sooner or later. 

"Lazz..." I whispered as they started taking him away and shot upright. He complied fully to them walking him out, but before they exited the apartment, Lazz gave me another, final look, and uttered quickly.

"Call Silvio, Willa." Those were his last words before he disappeared with the agents. 

I closed the door as an automatic response then set out to find the phone. I frantically searched around the living room until I got a hold of Lazzaro's Iphone. It took me a lot more to find Silvio's contact because my hands were uncontrollably shaking, but when I finally did, I clicked his name as fast as I could and brought the phone to my ear. I could feel my lips trembling as I heard the ringing on the speaker, and I tried taking deep breaths to calm myself down but it hardly helped. Few more seconds passed and the other line finally picked up.

"Brother-" I heard Silvio's apologetic tone on the other side and it was all I needed to break down. 

"They took him, Silvio. They just took him and went away." a tear slipped away and I wiped it off with my free hand before it could make its way down to my jaw. The line was silent for a slow second.

"Who took him, Willa?" his tone was no longer apologetic. It was alarmed and pressing.

"The police...I don't know. They had black uniforms and guns, Silvio. They just barged in and took him. They said he killed someone, but how could they arrest him under false accusations? He hasn't done anything."

"I'll be there in a few hours. Stay in the apartment and don't open the door to anyone," he ordered me, but didn't deny anything. Just like Lazzaro didn't. In the background I could hear shuffling and loud curses from Silvio. When I didn't answer, he raised his voice. "Did you hear me, Willa?"

"Yes," 

"I'll be there as fast as I can, gattino." with that, he ended the call and left me alone with my scary thoughts and that half eaten, opened jar of pickles on the coffee table.