TONY: Book 1 of The De Luca Brothers Series [COMPLETED]

21:

We drive to the hospital in silence, letting the somber atmosphere suffocate the air with its cold fingers and blue mood. I'm not ready- not ready at all- to see her, or to talk about her, or to even think about her. Despite my mourning, it's as if my mind can't actually admit that she's gone forever, as if a sick joke played by the world. The idea of her dead is already too much, but the fact that she's actually gone is...

There's no words to describe the agonising ache that her death has caused me.

Toro pulls into park and looks at me, "I'm here for you."

I nod, "I know."

We sit silently for another ten seconds before he sighs. "Zachary, I want you to know that if you need anything, anything at all, I'll be there. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Let's go."

We exit the sports car and begin to walk to the tall, grey building that held my mother's corpse. Toro's presence remains by my side and oddly reassures me, the fact that he's here and not running off doing crime, or running to his brother's call causes my stomach to flip. That happy feeling flutters away as we enter through the automatic glass doors.
The strong smell of antiseptic wafts through the air, along with the pristine white flooring and pastel green walls, this place resonates coolness, with no warmth. No sign of hope. Pain stabs my gut and I sharply intake a breath. Toro lightly grips my elbow and shows me towards the receptionist, I plump, short man with greying hair and rectangular glasses.
"Yes," he responds, his gaze glued to the screen. "How may I help you?"

"Uh, I was called yesterday that my mother had d-died," I reply hoarsely, my eyes pricking.

Fucking pathetic.

His gaze snaps up and his eyes hold sympathy, the last thing I need. He glances unsurely at Toro, but otherwise nods, "Are you Mrs Whitlock's son?"

"Yes," I whisper.

"She's located down in the morgue- would you like to see her? The police would like to ask a few questions about her suicide."

The word slaps me across the face and I visibly flinch. Toro's grip tightens as he bites, "Be careful with your words."

The man gulps, "O-of course. My deepest apologies."

"Do you want to see her Zachary?"

I shake my head, "No."

"Let's go to police station then, thank you for your time."

Toro leads me out, however I can't help but feel numb. Morgue... suicide... death... all of it is overwhelming and harsh, painfully true in every way shape and form. He buckles me into the car- how I got here is beyond me- the constant taunting of her giggles and her whispering of love and adoration in my mind. Yet my eyes don't cry, the pressure at the back of my throat increases until it's unbearable and the pounding in my head intensifies. I grip my skull and let out a low groan.

"Hey, Zachary, just calm down, you're fine. I promise, you're going to be fine," Toro says, but his voice seems so distant.

Suddenly I can't breath, as if a twenty kilo weight is pressing down on my chest. Instinctively, I took my legs to my chest and try to breathe, but with every pitiful lungful, my panic increases.

Toro's hand touches my shoulder and swiftly pulls over with the other one. My ragged breathing doesn't wain and my thoughts are all jumbled and the overwhelming feeling like I'M GOING TO DIE hits me hard as my mother's laughter disappears and leave me alone.

She's left me alone.

Red hot tears pour down my cheeks as I rock myself.

"Zachary, you're okay... Zachary, I need you to just look at me, please Zachary, look at me," Toro's voice cuts through the air and I snap my attention to his perfectly sculptured face. Even with blurred vision, you could tell he looks stunning.

"She's dead," I gasp. "Oh my god... she's dead. Toro, I'm alone. I'm all alone now."

"You're not alone. I-I'm here for you."

I shoot him a cruel look and scoff despite my tears. He flinches in surprise. "You're here for me? I don't even know your fucking name!"

He bites his lip, "It's Tony."

"Tony," I test. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?!"

"You're not thinking clearly."

"No, you're not thinking clearly!" I exclaim.

His jaw ticks, "I'm taking you to the police station, and I'm going to go and get us some coffee and you're going to calm the fuck down. Nobody talks to me like that Zachary, ever."

I gulp.

He pulls out again and we proceed to drive in silence, the atmosphere tense and awkward, my anger instantly dissipating. Heavy guilt fills me, he's only trying to help. Even though there's also obvious sexual tension and he's so damn attractive, this little bickering is disproportional. And inconvenient. Gnawing at my lip, my brows pinch and my eyes shut.

The car stops again, jolting me forwards. My eyes snap open and I glance at Toro-Tony. His jaw ticks, his fists are clenched on the wheel and his entire body is tense. I take it as a hint and solemnly exit the car, ignoring the pricking tears. I'm surprised I'm not dehydrated.

His sports car speeds off, leaving a cloud of dust in the air and the beautiful purr of his engine. God, I really messed up big time.

Scrubbing my face, I sigh into my hands, before gripping my hair and tugging. Losing people by the day- why am I not surprised?

Turning on my heel, I gulp another ragged breath before marching up the steps to the grey, brick building of the police station. It's cold appearance replicates the colder atmosphere inside, the icy walls to the dull flooring. Or the way that the only sound is the typing of the keys or the occasional whirring of the coffee machine.

I walk up hesitantly to the desk and offer a tight lipped, sad smile, "Hello. I'm here to be questioned?"

The receptionist looks me up and down, she sighs, her blemished cheeks puffing out, "Name?"

"Zachary W-Whitlock."

Her eyes widen slightly but she nods, "I'll call for the detective of your case."