The Mafia's Doctor

<-49->

<-I-L-A-<<<
"How is your dad? Was your flight okay? How are you feeling?" Charlotte bombarded me with questions as she took both of my luggage out of my hands. "Was traffic bad? Also, I saw Emmet's Instagram post of him with a dog. Did he get a dog?"

With my head already fried, comprehending answers to reply seemed impossible. I rubbed my head and asked, "Um... can we start this in the morning? I'm really tried."

"Ah, jetlagged?" she questioned, wheeling the suitcases as she led me to the guest room. Seeing it as a convincing lie, I nodded my head and followed behind her. "You can stay in this room and you already know where the bathroom is."

"I'll shower in the morning," I said. Already, in my mind, I've decided to jump straight into bed as soon as Charlotte left the room.

"Okay, goodnight. Make sure you get a good amount of sleep because I want to hear all about it in the morning," Charlotte said. She set the suitcases aside and closed the door behind her after exiting.

I plopped onto the bed. Face first, I was sinking into the blanket-covered mattress. I stayed long enough until it was hard for me to breathe. In and out, I exhaled and inhaled harder. A scent filled my nose. Oddly, it smelt like Quinten's cologne.

I turned, rolling onto my side to lay on my back. Letting out a sigh, it was now easier to breathe. No matter how many times I did this, the heavyweight at my chest came back and it made me suffocate. Staring at the ceiling above, I broke.

As my eyes watered once more, I thought hard about my decision. In conclusion, I was sick of it. I felt sorry for myself, among other things like bad and guilty. I was done feeling that way. I'm finally out of organized crime and I'm finally going to stop worrying about it. My choice was right. Leaving the place that puts me in harm's way was the correct choice. So I'm asking myself, why do I have to convince myself that? Why do I feel so wrong?

>>>-M-A-T-T-E-O->
I'm not mad, I thought to myself. Upset? Disappoint? No, I'm fine.

Almost missing my turn, I made a sharp left.  The turn was wider than expected and the car slightly drifted. Checking the speedometer, I was going 30 over the speed limit.

I guess I could calm down, I thought as I slowed down my speed. Eventually, the car brought me to the mafia mansion. I didn't mind to park in the garage, stopping the car right in the driveway.

I entered through the front door and I saw Aiden. Unlike the last time I saw him, Aiden had a familiar-looking cane by his side. He was using the walking stick rather than crutches to walk.

"Is that my grandmother's walking stick?" I asked, pointing it out.

Aiden looked down at the cane, "Yeah. Why? Is your nonna looking for it?"

I said, "No, she's in Italy right now."

"Oh, okay, good."

Before Aiden limped away, I stopped him. "Why exactly are you using her cane?" 

"Giovanni is keeping my crutches away from me," Aiden explained and then he asked me questions in return, "Where is Ila? Didn't she leave with you?"

I frowned because he had reminded me of my current situation. Not wanting to answer, I walked passed Aiden. I sped up my walk, ignoring anyone who called for me. I didn't stop until I reached the pantry where the good liquor sat on the shelves. I grabbed a few bottles and headed to my room.