Cortello - D'Angelo (New)

c h a p t e r t w o

Chapter Two - Sister

adrian

The day of the funeral starts off as any other day. The air is crisp from fall starting to settle in yet the sun is still bright. I've been awake for yours dreading the day ahead.

I've been through this once already. I understand how the process goes. Wake up, surround yourself with people who never actually cared about the dead person, accept every "I'm sorry for your loss" and "They were a good person", then everyone leaves. You're there to pick up the pieces of your life that feel like they'll never fit again because now someone who you thought would be around forever is just gone and you don't know what to do with yourself.

For mom's funeral, I had dad by my side. He was an anchor, a shoulder to cry on and someone that was there helping me pick up the pieces. This time around, I have no one. No one that feels like they could do what dad did for me.

A knock sounds at more door and I simply stare, willing whoever it is on the other side to leave me alone.

"Adrian?"

Darius.

The second Luciano and Darius touched down in New York, they dived straight into business. They planned the entire funeral from the tux, to the coffin, to the church service and everything else. I don't mind, I didn't want to be apart of the plans anyway. Better for someone else to decide how my dad will be laid to rest.

Truth be told, I don't even want to go to the funeral. I don't want to have to see the coffin knowing the last remaining person who ever felt like my family was being to put to rest inside it. I don't think I can take it.

I haven't voiced these thoughts to anyone, not that there's really anyone to listen. For the most part, Darius and Luciano have left to my self isolation in my bedroom. The only time we've interacted is when they try to persuade me to eat, or shower or do anything really.

Doing anything other than laying in bed has become very taxing. My mind whirls and my body feels to heavy to move so I just don't do it.

"Adrian?" Darius and his knocking persist.

The door handle starts moving, but it's locked. It has been since last night.

"Adrian?" I'm no reader of people, but he sounds worried know.

The jiggling of the door handle starts becoming frantic movements. Something in the back of my mind tells me that Darius isn't above breaking my door down and that I should tell him I'm awake, so I do.

"I'm awake," I croak, my voice hoarse from disuse.

All movements stop on the other side of the door. It's quiet for a second and then Darius asks, "Can you unlock the door, please?"

Yes, I can but no, I don't want to. But I find it in me to do so anyway because I don't want my door broken down and destroying the sanctuary of my bedroom.

I drag myself out of the bed and it's even more of task to get to the door. The lock licks and the door is pushed open from the other side. I act fast with a side-step, avoiding being hit by the door by just an inch.

Darius' brows are furrowed as he looks me up and down, "You're not ready yet."

What an astounding observation.