Scared To Love You Again

22

Damian

Three years ago...

I still think about her. Her smile, those lips, her cute little pouty face she makes when she wants some dick from me. I miss her voice. The less I hear it, the more vague it becomes. I've been regretting my decision since that day I completely cut ties from Leila. I know I broke her heart and I'm rotting for my mistakes, but it's for the best. The thought of her shedding a tear makes my heart ache.

I still have all her letters and pictures. Even the ones I had my brothers sneak, so I could keep up with what's going on in her life. From her first day in college to her last. I even have some of the pictures while she was in art school. Domenico even snuck me some pictures of Coffee. Leila wrote to me for my birthday, holidays, days where she'll just tell me how her day went. Whether she was upset, happy, alone, on her period, or if she had a bad dream. Everything. I have them all.

Every single day, she sent me letters until two years ago when I began to avoid her. God knows I didn't want to, but knowing I couldn't be there the way she needed me to was eating me the fuck up. As much as I fucking hate and despise the idea of another man taking care of her, I can't be selfish. She deserves a lot better than a man that can't provide and protect. I just hope when I get out that whoever steps up and does what the fuck he's supposed to do, won't have to worry about me throwing a stupid motherfucker on his back.

"Aye! Romano!" The older guard taps his club on my cell's bars. "Stasera sei in servizio di pulizia in cucina, figliolo." He slides it open. (You're on clean up duty in the kitchen tonight, son)

I groan in preparation of what's to come. So far since I've been here, there's been consistent brawls. Three of which I was a part of due to the fact that someone with a death wish decided it was okay to snatch my pictures of Leila from under my pillow. In which, he received a justified ass whoopin'.

The second was for Tiny invading my personal space, thinking he could bitch me just because he was bigger. Height don't mean shit compared to stamina, fat bitch. I was sent to solitary confinement for a week, but fuck it. It was worth my respect. Plus, I found it peaceful, but trust, there's more cons than pros being alone and stuck in the dark for so long. Thirdly, well, we'll just say I'm retaliating before I get out of here. I'll deal with them separately.

I exit my cell towards the lower level of the prison. The guard still on my heel. Once we're in an isolated hallway by the kitchen, he stops me by landing his hand on my shoulder. "Damian..."

I ferociously locked eyes with him.

"He's in there. Take this." He hands me a small pocket knife. "That sick son of a bitch raped and murdered my ten year old niece. His friends, too. The cameras don't work in there. Fai quello che ti serve, ma fallo in fretta." (Do what you need to, but make it quick.)

"Come posso fidarmi di te?" (How can I trust you?)

"Don't. I only want justice for my niece. I also know that they jumped you in the yard not too long ago. I have connections to each individual and I can give you whatever information you need."

"Why me?"

"You're determined. You go after what you want and won't stop until you do. I admire that, figlio. I've grown the upmost respect for you throughout the years. You do this for me and I'm in debt to you. For life."

In deep thought, his offer can be beneficial in the long run. Yet, I don't wanna handle the situation for that specific reason. No, his niece deserves justice in which I plan to give to her and her family. I know it won't bring her back, but it's the least I can do.