62. MATTEO

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I haven't slept in two days.

I am exhausted.

Mom walks in with her infamous soup. It must be the placebo effect or some thing but everytime I eat this, I feel much better.

She puts it on my desk, sitting beside me. "Matty, I know you're paranoid but you need to rest."

I shake my head. "I can't be alone, mom." I lean forward.

I'm either scared of spiralling, hurting myself or relapsing. I'm very stressed, and the only thing I can think about is the one thing that made me less stressed: alcohol.

"You're worrying me, Matty. Romeo and-"

"This isn't Romeo's doing. I won't let him clean up my mess." I keep eating. "I'll be fine."

"I don't believe you." She says honestly. "You won't even step foot in the kitchen because you know there's alcohol-"

"Mom, I'm trying my hardest." I look up at her. "But they're threatening all of the people I love and I feel helpless. I'm sober, okay. I'll stay sober as long as I do what I need to do, how I need to do it."

She smiles softly. "We're here for you, Matty."

"I know."

She rubs my shoulder, watching me eat and then going to get me more once I'm finished.

Roman walks in this time, placing the bowl in front of me.

He just stares at me.

"You got something to say, dad?" I ask.

"Your mother is barely hanging on by a thread here, Matteo. It is not weak to ask for help."

I lean back. "Rich coming from you."

He cracks a smile. "Don't be a dick. I'll leave you on this for now but the second I see you deteriorate, Romeo will take your place."

"It's not Romeo's mess."

"I don't care. I won't let you put yourself on the line for this when I know Romeo will have it done in a month."

I scoff. They do this all the time. Romeo is only the better capo because people fear him. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if I stuck on my heartless facade.

Would people fear me like they fear him?

"Right. Bye, dad."

"Don't give me attitude, Matteo. It will be for your own sake."

"You and mom do this all the time. You think I can't handle shit and then you give it to Romeo. You don't think I can handle this, papa?" I take my voice.

He blinks once, twice. "Youre a recovering alcoholic-"

"I'm recovered. Don't use that against me."

"Your father and I have had this conversation far too many times, Matteo. I am not saying this to offend you."

"Damn seems like it." I stand up, for some reason on the urge of tears. "Go. I'll deal with this myself."

He sighs. "You're already struggling."

"I'm just tired, dad. Go."

He shakes his head, leaving.

When he leaves I sit back down, wiping my cheeks.

I'm angry because I know he's right.

Ilaria walks in.

She doesn't say anything and she doesn't need me to say anything. She just hugs me.

I cry into her.

She rubs my back. "No one will think different of you if we take this off yours hands, Matty."

"I started this." I hiccup.

"We'll help you finish it." She rubs her fingers through my hair. "You need to rest. Everybody is here. Go lay down and take a nap."

"I can't-"

"I'll take over until you wake. Please rest, Matty."

She manages to convince me to take one of the rooms upstairs. There was a couple of juniors sleeping in here and I just take one of the extra beds.

I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.

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