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It was late. He should have been asleep. Sitting at the edge of his bed, he ogled the bottle of whiskey on his counter. He felt a fleeting sense of the pleasure that would come when he cracked it open, took a swig, and closed it back. However, he knew better than to trust himself.
The thought of Rocco and Mia flashed through his mind, and he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut to evade the memory. He imagined severing his brain from his body and plucking at the prefrontal cortex until he forgot everything.
He would risk losing all the knowledge he attained over the years to forget every bad thing that had happened to the people around him. He would risk anything.
He remembered Mia's delicate words, her voice so young and sweet. Rocco's eyes were so concerned he cared so much for that kid. It was the most delicate thing The Beast had ever seen.
He no longer fought against the memory.
It was the night of her surgery.
The doctor came out and both men jumped to their feet. Anticipation threaded Rocco's visage. The Beast could have seen through his eyes that he imagined the worst yet to come.
The doctor, however, had many years to hide what he thought and felt in his eyes. Not even The Beast could derive meaning from them.
There was a beat.
All The Beast could have smelt was hand sanitiser and indiscernible hospital food. The distant beeps of machinery suddenly felt closer; almost pounding on his ears.
A muscle ticked in Rocco's jaw. He, too, didn't seem to understand the doctor's intent behind the silence.
The man said the cliched words. "We did everything we could." The words that were revised and repeated so often they eventually lost all meaning. The significance was lost to the doctor himself. "Mia Cataneo didn't make it."
Rocco couldn't contain the weight of the words. They slammed down on him, and he crumbled under the weight. He slumped onto the seat, glaring at the floor. The Beast was yet to imagine the turmoil that torpedoed throughout the man's head.
A terrible ache rumbled in The Beast's chest, but he never allowed his expression to change.
Rocco held his own face and sobbed. The reverberation came out estranged and muffled.
"I'm sorry," the doctor stated.
This worsened the man's cries. The Beast's practised expression threatened to crack. He turned to leave.
