Chiara Rose

tredici

tw - mention of anxiety, abuse, rape and self harm

Damiano's POV

Anxiety is a very common human emotion, something that helps the human body sense when they're in danger or if they're stressed.

I've never been an overly anxious person. I've always somehow found a way to remain calm, to not overthink things obsessively. My father says it's why I'm so successful at my job, both as a CEO and a Don. Although I am still human, I'm not immune to anxiety. I've felt it a few times in my life, most of them revolving around my children.

When Tino had his first major panic attack, when we rushed Bruno to the hospital after finding him passed out in the bathroom with blood trailing down his wrists. When Rocco took a hard hit and passed out on the football field, when Gi passed out from overworking himself. When Enzo broke his arm and was rushed into emergency surgery, when Carlo came home from school with a bloody nose from a bully. When I walked into the twin's room that night to find Chiara gone.

Those are all moments in my recent life where I felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety, a sense of anxiety so strong that I never thought I'd feel anything worse.

But this, right now, sitting in my living room waiting to find out if my daughter wasn't as fine as I convinced myself she was. This here, the sense of overwhelming dread and guilt, then throw in the anxiety of waiting? This is much worse than those other times. So much worse.

"What's taking them so long." Bruno says anxiously, frantically pulling at the rubber band sitting around his wrist. Even from where I'm sitting on the couch across from here, I can see how red the skin around the band is. And Enzo, who's sitting next to Bruno, notices it as well and stops Bruno, and moves the rubber band to the other wrist. Bruno then starts tugging at it again.

"They're just checking in on Carlo, give them a moment to make sure he's okay." I explain softly. Bruno slowly nods my head, and I turn my attention to Rocco who has slumped on the couch next to Enzo. He also hasn't said a word since we sat down, which is very uncharacteristic for him.

"What's going on?" I ask quietly, and Rocco knows it's directed towards him. He grudgingly moves his attention from the floor to my face, beings to glare at me and then shakes his head. This is a telltale sign that his head is getting busy, which means he's bound to lash out at some stage.

I quickly bounce up from my chair, run off to the 'den' as the boys like to call it and grab the box of stuffed toys. Rocco first went into therapy when he was 7, and one of the ways she suggested to help with anger is to throw stuffed toys. I took the suggestion and implemented it house-wide. It made Rocco feel less isolated, and also saved me from patching up holes in walls and replacing broken furniture.

When I walk back into the room, I find Gi and Tino sitting in their respective places in the room, clearly waiting for me. I take the lid off the box and chuck it into the middle of the room, not forcing anyone to take anything from it. If they think they need to, they will, I can't force them to do anything.

"Who did it." Rocco says, breaking the somewhat tense silence that had settled upon the room. It's the question everyone's burning to ask, but no one really has the guts to do it.

"She let me have a look at the bruising and other marks that were on her body. They all look fairly superficial, I'm gonna get her a prescribed cream to help them fade." Gi starts, clearly ignoring Rocco's question.

"What about the bruise on her ribs? Rocco said it was fairly bad." I ask wearily, still keeping my eye on Rocco. He clearly didn't like how Gi ignored his question so blatantly but knows Gi's doing it for a reason. It still doesn't stop him from clenching and unclenching his fists.