Know my Name

I loved him too

24 hours. 24 hours of staying in a small white cubic room that had no pictures nor windows that I could look out of. Hours of answering questions the police asked me. Hours of me repeating myself that the man in his mid 40s, did in fact intend to kill my brother and I. Hours of me crying and holding onto my dad as I had to tell him, that his son had just died. My already heartbroken dad, had to lose yet another loved one.

The doctors told me I had a broken ankle from smashing in the car window, a few broken ribs, a concussion, bruised knuckles, glass in both of my palms that needed to heal, and scraps that ran alongside my body. If you sum it all up, I was bruised from the outside and the inside. I'm emotionally drained, from having cried my eyes out all day and having to hear strangers and family members pity me for my loss.

For losing someone so close to me, that wasn't ever coming back.

"Do you want more jello?" My fathers deep voice cut through the prolonged silence. I looked up at him, and saw past his mask that he always threw up for other people. The part of him with bags underneath his eyes from sleepless nights, the part of him that had puffy eyes from grieving, the "weak" part of him.

I shook my head smiling at him lightly. "No I'm alright." I looked down at my joined hands but then looked up at him again. "When-" I cleared my throat. "When's the funeral?" I watched as my fathers face fell and he collapsed into the cushioned chair behind him. He buried his face in his hands and his chest was shaking as the tears fell down his cheeks.

I quickly got up from the hospital bed and limped to his side, not caring about the gown they forced me into or the IV sticking out of my arm. I hugged him with all my might as I let him cry it out.

For all the years I've known my father, I've never seen him break down, or cry, or show any weaknesses. My father is a stubborn man, a protector of his family of little cubs. Anyone that was a threat to him or his family, was either tortured to the point of them wanting to end their own life, or had the mercy of a bullet between their eyes. Living with a mafia leader is chaos all the time, it's having parties and meetings out of nowhere, but pretending to always be prepared. It's fighting even if all you want to do is fall to your knees and beg for mercy.

So seeing my father crying pulled at what was left of my broken heart. And I knew I couldn't do anything to ease his pain, so instead I held him in my arms and told him,

"It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay" And I didn't know who I was trying to convince. Me or him.

****

They finally released me from the hospital, after what felt like 20 years, but was only a day and a half. I had to try to rest when I got home since my ribs and the crutches I was now baring, but I knew it was going to be hard not to. We needed to plan my brothers funeral, to give him a proper burial. To show others that my brother never deserved to die that way. And it will be a mistake on their part, if I have any say in the matter.

"Cam, bring the car around." My father ordered one of our private guards, as I leaned against my crutch trying to catch up to them. I winced when I felt my stomach stretch and my ribs started burning from the strain. "Mare do you just want me to carry you? I hate seeing you in pain."

I waved my hand in dismissal, "Dad I'm fine just get me home safely big guy." I say hitting his shoulder playfully as I pass him to walk out the sliding doors.

I hear him chuckle softly as Cam helped me into the car even when I told him I was perfectly fine doing it on my own.

I watched as the trees outside rushed past in a green blur as we headed home. The little house Oscar and I owned was sold for the time being. I didn't want to go back there anymore from all of the bad memories I have now. I know I'll have to go back at some point to enjoy the mountainside and cherish the memories of my brother, but for now I'll be staying with my dad.