The Beauty in Eternity

85 | Mason.

[ Venezia, Italia—2 years ago. ]

As I watch her walk out of the door, I feel everything shift. As her footsteps and cries become distant it hits me that this is real, and I just lost her. An overwhelming bout of pain jolts through me, and just as quickly as it arrives, it turns to rage.

My body courses with anger, and I feel like I can't physically exist with it. I swipe everything off of the shelves and watch it crash to the floor, my head pulsating with uncontrollable emotion. "Fuck!" I scream. I kick the table and watch it break, the ornaments on top clattering to the floor—fuck this, fuck all of this. I turn to the remaining shelves and in one sweep, throw everything against the wall with a loud bang, my teeth clenching in rage as the tears wet my cheeks. This isn't fucking right. Fuck!

The hotel manager clatters through the door and grabs my arm. "Mason! Stop!" he yells, his eyes bulging.

I fight my way out of his grip and throw the framed picture that hangs above the bed onto the floor. "Out! Get out, boy! You have to calm down!" he scolds me, shoving me towards the door.

My rage is blind, and I can't control it. I make my way straight to the warehouse, they made this happen—they should be the ones to deal with the backlash. Those bastards, they ruined my life. Again. They ruined it.

I swing the door open, every one of them eyeing me with a smug grin. "Where the fuck is the boss?" I yell.

Silence. They ignore me. I punch one of their loyal little soldiers in the face, earning a laugh from Stefano and an ill tempered insult from the one with the bloody nose. "I said where is he?"

"Marco is... indisposed at the moment." he smirks, twirling his knife between his fingers.

"Then where is Giovanni?" I seethe. I kick over a table with taped up boxes on top, no doubt waiting to be picked up by the cartel. Stefano stands to his feet with a clenched jaw.

"Back off," Marco sighs, placing his hand on Stefano's shoulder as he emerges from the back room. "De Luca, I'm guessing you made your decision?" he raises his brow smugly.

"A fanabla! Cazzo di merda." I spit.

"Calmarti," he laughs. "Calmarti, De Luca." My anger boils above breaking point as he condescends me, calm down? Fuck you.

I step forward and punch him in the face with every ounce of anger I have, sending him backwards towards Stefano. He finds his feet and brings his thumb slowly along his lip, wiping the blood that pools there with a disturbing smile on his face. "I did this for her, not for you. So you better start respecting me. I'm not the little child you could order around all those years ago," I spit, taking a step towards him. "So get your shit together, because I'm not scared of you anymore—boss."

I swipe the knife from Stefano's hand sending it clattering against the floor before walking out. As soon as I slam the door behind me I feel an overwhelming pain in my chest, and I try to breathe through my anger.

I return to the hotel and lock the door, stepping over the broken ornaments and wood scattered across the floor. I slide down the wall, my knees folding to my chest. My hands tug through my hair as I start to breathe heavier—I guess this is what they call rock bottom. I lean my head against the wall as I feel my eyes pool, I'm not used to this; I don't cry. I never cry. I haven't felt hurt in a long time, I don't remember the feeling well, I don't know how to deal with the it—but all I do know is that it feels like I'm suffocating, and I can't feel this. The only thing that helps is her, and she's gone. I refuse to feel this.