Amore Mio ✓

Parallel World: His Happiness

What happens if...Neilson's papa left the Italian mafia.

Neilson's POV:

Anthony stood there in his clean, black suit. His eyes dare into mine. "Tell me, Esposito." He pushed a hand inside his pocket and drew out a cigarette. With a flick, the lighter flicker allows the flames to illuminate the room. With a single puff, he blew out the smokes from his lungs. "Have you ever feel regret?"

Resting on the concrete floor, I allow the blood to spill from inside. The kick of adrenaline allows the pain to decrease, a pain that meant nothing to me - absolutely nothing.

And as I cast my eyes upon the grey ceiling, I pray that death will take me.

"Regret," I said, unable to fight the bitter smile. Never in my life had I regretted anything, not until that day.

That day taught me something that I never knew was possible.

It taught me how to live while being dead.

The images never burn from my mind. No matter what I do, it refuses to fade.

All I can see is her body, her shell. All that's left of the blood that had once flowed thick in her veins were on my skin. A dried stain of brown wicked into the fabric of my white t-shirt the day she died. The one that still rests inside my suitcase. I know I should throw away the clothes, stained and ruined. However, I never could.

It felt as if I was betraying her.

Throw her away.

Her life with me seemed like a fantasy, and with only the stained clothes and photos that I would dig out of my pockets that I remember, she was real.

Was real.

Now, she's waiting for me, for when my time will end.

Every day I prayed to the Gods and asked him to tell her not to worry that my heart would still be hers alone.

I wish I could lie, tell her that I would come to her.

But, I promise...I would never lie to my Angel.

"I regret...meeting her."

Anthony huffs out another breath before he throws the cigarette onto the ground and crushes it with the sole of his shoe. "Do you truly?"

And then there was darkness.

Nothing.

It suffocates my body, but somehow it still feels light.

Free from everything.

***

"Neilson...Neilson."

I blinked and saw a white ceiling.

"Neilson?"

I sat up and adjusted my eyes to my surroundings. It was my old bedroom in Italy. "Momma?"

She tucked a strand of wet locks behind my ear and said: "Are you okay?" in Italian.

My heart beats fast, and there's a buzz in my brain, and together they create a violet wave throughout my body. I held my palm against my forehead. "Nothing, mamma," I replied to her, "I just had the strangest dream."

She tilts her head, "Are you sure you're okay?"

I shook my head. "Momma," I said. "Why am I here?" English. The language somehow felt foreign to me, as if I didn't speak it enough.