Winter's Wonderful Summer's Special

His Choice

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Angelo dragged his feet up the stairs leading out of the basement, his body filled with exhaustion. He hadn't slept well at all. Stepping into the living room he was surprised to see Mila curled up on the couch, her eyes unfocused as she lost herself in thought. He looked into the kitchen to see that the counters were littered with beer bottles, apparently his father had a party all by himself last night.

As he started towards the kitchen Mila sat up slowly, gripping her stomach briefly, her eyes slamming shut as she noticeably found her bearings. He frowned at her worriedly.

"Are you sick?" He blurted, voice louder than he meant for it to be.

She shook her head. "I'm fine," she whispered. "How did it go?" It took him a moment to realize she meant the meeting with his mother yesterday. "You got back kind of late and your dad wanted me to go to bed with him, so I didn't get a chance to speak to you."

Angelo found himself wondering why she cared. He shrugged. "It was fine. She wants to meet with me again and she gave me her phone number." He scratched the back of his neck and avoided her gaze. "I met my brother as well," he began. "His name is Stefano." He forced himself to look at her again, catching her frown.

"Stefano?" She echoed.

Angelo watched her chew her lip as she thought, apparently she hadn't known that she knew his brother. So she was just curious about how him meeting his mother again had gone, there wasn't another agenda.

Not wanting to say anything else, Angelo moved on into the kitchen and began cleaning up. Mila followed him into the kitchen and watched him for a few minutes, silently.

"Your little brother is named Stefano?" She finally asked.

Angelo nodded but decided not to look at her, not wanting to tell her how he could have potentially gotten her rescued. All he had to do was tell Stefano and his mother, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to. The thought of betraying his dad both terrified him and felt wrong to him. He knew it wasn't wrong because Mila didn't want to be here and his dad hurt her, but he couldn't do it.

He told himself that he hadn't said anything at the time because his dad could have found out he told somehow and rushed back home and vanished with Mila, but he knew it was more than that deep down.

He came to a sudden stop as Mila rushed passed him and over to the trashcan and began throwing up. He watched on worriedly as she began to retch into the bin. He watched with wide eyes as she stopped and pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stared down into the bin for a moment before a strangled cry escaped her and she gripped the trashcan and began to angrily bang it against the floor, shrill wails leaving her.

Angelo had never heard anything like it before. It was heartbreaking.

"What in the hell is going on out here?" His father yelled as he stumbled out of his bedroom. Mila didn't stop, she actually got even louder. "Mila?" The man shouted moving forward. "What in the hell is wrong with you?" He grabbed her but she fought against him, attempting to escape his hold, still screaming. She was sobbing. "Mila, what's wrong?" The man asked softer now, locking his arm around her. "Mila, sweet-bon, what's wrong? Talk to me, tell me what's wrong."

She eventually stopped crying and fighting, sinking to the ground taking the large man with her as her whole body shook and she wheezed. She curled into herself in the mans arms.

Angelo stood there, a trash bag full of beers still in his hands. He stared at the shaking Mila, chest aching.

(SB)