evanescence (2.) | ✔️

INTERLUDE // Romano De Carlo

October 4, 2014

Malibu, California

        "Take this, all of you, and eat of it, for this is my body, which will be given up for you."

        Body. I couldn't count the number of bruises, the number of scars that were staining my skin underneath this polished suit, these expensive pants.

       "Take this, all of you, and drink from it, for this is the chalice of my blood, the blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins."

       Blood. If I closed my eyes, I could almost see it. The blood-soaked shirts that I could never wear again. The little cherry red droplets of the stuff on the floor as I stare off into space, waiting for my punishment to be over.

      My sins needed to be repaid. I needed to be forgiven. That's what I knew. It was all I knew.

      My scalp aches as I take communion, the bread and wine sticking to my throat. The effects of my most recent punishment hadn't yet faded, and I was only reminded of them as I sit next to my father who was all too capable of inflicting pain whenever he saw fit. I reach a hand up to touch my burning scalp, credited to his fingers pulling at the strands as he dragged me to the basement. Hot white pain flickers along my head and I can barely stifle a groan building in the back of my throat.

        Father bends down ever so slightly until his lips are at my ear. "Man up," he whispers, glaring at me. "We don't need you crying like a sissy in front of all these people."

        I swallow back the lump in my throat, nodding quickly. Father was always worried about appearances. In church, work parties, anywhere really. He was the CEO of our family's well-esteemed oil business, which left little room for failure.

        I would not be just a failure to him.

        The mass ends without me noticing it. I glance up from in front of me, quickly shaking hands with the men beside me and accepting kisses on my cheeks from their women, and even a hug from my personal favorite, Jane. Father had many opinions on Jane, a single woman who often attended church alone. He thought she oughta put herself out there more, search for a man that can fulfill her life. Though I kept it to myself, I was quite inspired by Jane. She got on just fine by herself.

        "You seem different today, Romano," Jane points out, a worried expression etched onto her brown skin. "Quieter."

        I bristle uncomfortably and reach up to straighten my tie. "Just tired, perhaps. I've been working hard with my father. If I'm going to inherit the family business, well, I'd better put in the work."

        "The family business, right. The oil company?"

        I nod, beaming with pride. "Yes. It's been in the De Carlo's name for years now, success in Italy and America. I'm quite lucky to be inheriting it someday."

        Jane's eyes squint. "Is it really want you what to do? Be some sort of leader in your family business?"

        I falter for just a moment before calling back up my smile. "Of course, I do. It's been my dream since I was a boy." Or more so, it'd been my father's dream. The minute I was born a boy, he'd been ecstatic. It only took a few years for him to realize that I wasn't the kind of boy he'd wanted and by then, it was already abundantly clear that my mother wouldn't be able to have any more children. Having me nearly killed her, in the first place. And now she really was dead, buried just over a year ago and...

        "Excuse me," I say, sending Jane a pinched smile and rushing out of the room. My feet bound down the hall until I reach a quiet room in the back, one where all the Bibles and fans were stored. I slide onto a table, bringing my fingers to my mouth and biting my nails. My nail beds were ruined, as they had been for years, but at least it gave me something to do.

        I heave a sigh and shut my eyes, trying to shut out my mind. Mother had been gone a whole year. What was there to panic for? She was gone and I was still here and those were the facts. And facts don't change. They just don't.

        There's a rustling and my eyes peel open immediately, surveying the seemingly empty room. "Who's there?" I call out. There's another sound and then Beau peeks out, dressed up in a white button-up shirt and dark blue slacks. "Beau. Jesus, you scared me."

        He sucks in his lip, laughing softly. "Sorry. You have terrible nerves, you know that?"

        I chuckle softly, not exactly ready to tell him that the reason my nerves were so bad was that I'd gotten so used to looking over my shoulder to make sure Father wasn't around.

        Beau moves closer, leaning down next to me on the table, so close that our thighs were touching. I fell into his touch easily and when he wraps his hand around mine, it felt like coming home. I lean my head down onto his shoulder, sighing softly. "Saw you rush out of the church," he murmurs, rubbing circles along my knuckles. "You okay?"

        I shrug. "I'm fine. Did your dad see you leave after me?"

        He shakes his head. "No, I waited a few minutes. Besides, he was too busy talking to people after the sermon to see me leave."

        I nod. Beaumont's dad was the priest; it wasn't too hard to imagine him shaking hands and receiving compliments after the sermon from the congregation. "You disappeared so quickly the other day," Beau says. "After we...you know."

        I nod again, knowing he's referring to last Monday when we'd spent hours making out behind the school bleachers. We stayed extra hours at school just to hang out and be able to be ourselves at the only place we really could see each other. Of course, shit hit the fan when my dad came to pick me up, something he hadn't done in years. He'd just had a new development with the company and was eager to take me out to dinner with some of his colleagues to celebrate, only to find me and Beau holding hands outside of the school. I suppose we were lucky; Beau's back was to my dad and Father only saw me. I briefly whispered to him that my dad was behind him in his sports car and that he needed to walk away without turning around. Then, I'd run up to my dad's car and gotten inside, knowing he'd kill me for being with a guy like that.

        Beau had gotten away and when Father screamed at me, he didn't seem to know exactly who I was seeing. It wasn't like this hadn't happened before. Father has suspected that I was into guys ever since he went through my search history on my computer. My back instinctively flexes at the reminder of that punishment. "Yeah, I know," I mumble. "He never saw you, though. You're in the clear."

        Beau sighs loudly. "This sucks. I hate having to hide like this."

        I squeeze his hand, lifting my head up to look at him. "I know," I murmur. "I know."

       He sighs again before bringing his hand to my face. We're kissing immediately after that and I feel like it's the first time I've breathed in a week.