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

43:

I get jolted awake, my head hitting a close wall, before my entire body goes airborne for a couple of seconds, hitting the roof of the compact, dark space, before falling down once again. Groaning, I cocoon my head with my arms, unsure of where the fuck I am and what is happening. Only when I hear the revving of an engine do I realise that I am in fact, in my stepdad's car.

My breathing labours as claustrophobia leaks in, my lungs constrict and the intense hammering of the back of my head causes me to wince; my body gets thrown around one again; battering, bruising, breaking. Thud, thud, thud. The car pauses at what I can assume is a red light and I sigh with happiness, however I know this'll be short lived. I try to understand where I am in the car, laying on my back, to my right is a felt material whilst on my left is a plastic sheet of what I can assume is the boot door.

The car starts again and I involuntarily roll into said plastic sheet, my nose connecting and making a harsh cracking sound. I know it's broken. Crying out, my limbs break from the brace position and my limbs flail, my head hits walls and flooring, I can feel it swelling and the pressure increases almost unbearably. I'm sure I black out- positive even. There is no way I could have possibly stayed conscious throughout that excruciatingly painful experience since time seemed to not exist and an eternal torture of immense physical pain pushed me over the edge.

The car halts and sighs, the rumbling engine ceasing as the car shakes to the slamming of a door. The familiar heavy footsteps of my stepdad sound on a gravelly path, the noise teasing my agonised self. The boot opens and I hiss away from the searing light of the sun, my eyes burning. I flinch but regret it as my limbs scream in protest, my muscles seizing and my ribs spasming.

"You crying' boy?" He teases. "You always looked too feminine to be man, let alone a boy."

I tried to retort an answer, but the fuzziness in my head and the dry, cotton feeling mixed with a coppery taste in my mouth causes me to gag. He grips me by the collar and launches me out of the car. My poor body hits the solid, jagged ground and I whimper, the feeling like molten lava through my veins.

"Get up," he grumbles. When I don't move- not like I can- he mutters underneath his breath before hooking me under my pits and dragging me somewhere. He abruptly drops me at the steps, deciding to let me clamber up there by myself as he pats his pockets, looking for something. With a satisfied hum, he whips out a pair of keys, j hear the clicking of the lock and the groaning of the door before his footfalls stop next to my face. He kneels next to me and picks me up in his arms, his muscles trembling slightly before he rushes inside, once again dropping me on the couch.

I take the dizzy moment to analyse my surroundings. A warmly lit log cabin with a wool rug in the centre underneath a coffee table, an L-shaped organised beige settees with vintage throws, a dining table next to the front door with the kitchen behind the lounge.

"I built this place for our tenth anniversary," he claims, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I'm not a monster Zac."

"But you beat me up, threw me in a car boot  and murdered my mother," I croak. "Yet you still claim you're not a monster?"

He runs a hand over his face and takes a seat on the other settee. A tear leaks down his cheek, "I'm so sorry." A sob escapes his lips and he shakes his head, hurrying his head in his palms, "I'm so, so sorry Zachary. I never meant to hurt anyone, I was j-just so jealous."

I stare at him, feeling an internal hurricane of turmoil. Pure white anger pulses through my veins since he's the reason for my parent's death: I want to kill him. I can't move, but I can scheme. I can plot his death in the most sickening, twisted way to make him pay for what he has done to me.

Losing a father, losing a mother, abusive childhood, alcoholic stepdad... ruining my life. He thinks a 'sorry' is good enough?! He took everything away from me— I'm going to kill him. Kill him for everything, thinking he can have my mother 'cause he claims he's in love?

He shuffles and snaps me from my stupor, "I loved her."

I scoff, "Fun way of showing it."

"I loved her so much that I killed for her. That's why I don't like you, the spawn of that man is sickening. Your father was a terrible man, y'know?"

"My father was better than you," I hiss, eyes flashing. I go to launch myself, but pause, the immense pain radiating from my ribs. "Just because he got the girl, had a successful career, had a promising future... you're pathetic!"

He flinches, "He bullied me! He picked on the weak! He was the real monster, so let me ask you this: what does that make you?"

"He wasn't the monster," I snarl. "You're just jealous. Hell, look at you! You were green with envy so you killed him."

"Don't you dare try to understand—"

"I don't need to try," I mutter weakly. "I already know. You just thought physical action would be the best; you're wrong. There is no way you can think of yourself as that protagonist in your story, 'cause at the end of the day you brutally murdered my mom—"

"Shut up."

"—by trying to force yourself on her despite her protests. Murder my father—"

"Shut up!"

"—'cause he has the American dream and the girl you wanted. Abused me and my mother through alcohol because you couldn't deal with the guilt—"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" He shouts, slamming a fist down on the coffee table and standing up to his full and wide stature. His eyes shine with anger as he tries to calm his breathing but might as well have not bothered since it's obviously not working. Kicking the table, he raises a fist as if to pummel me, only to freeze.

"Go on," I taunt. "Beat me up like you've always did, since that's the only true fight you can win. Against someone weak or unprepared."

Something flickers in his gaze, he flinches away from me and staggers backwards onto the settee, allowing his body to crumble into the plush cushioning.

"That's what I thought," I whisper.

I don't know how long we stay like this, the two of us numbly staring into space, but when the police finally rock up, I'm close to passing out.