It’s all I can think of, and I don’t hear anything Augusto and Lorenzo say.
When the SUV comes to a screeching stop, it feels like I’m having an out-of-body experience as my brother helps me out of the vehicle and ushers me into the hospital.
I’m bombarded with the image of injured guards who are being treated in the hallway and every available room.
“Fuck,” Lorenzo calls out. “Dad, are you okay?”
Seeing Uncle Milo gripping his side, blood seeping through his fingers, I’m dealt another blow.
I’ve known Uncle Milo all my life.
Breaths saw over my dry lips as my heart breaks.
Augusto leaves me to check on our beloved uncle, and as I slowly walk farther down the hallway, my body trembles severely. My movements are jerky, and as I turn my head to the left, I see Simone, who’s a nurse, pulling a white sheet over someone.
My eyes land on the cream-colored jacket Christiano was wearing that’s lying on the floor beside the bed, and as the shock hits, I sway on my feet.
The next instant, I’m dragged down to the pits of hell as unbearable devastation pulverises my heart, and soon after, rapid waves of chaotic emotions threaten to drown me in darkness.
“No,” I gasp, my face crumpling. “God, don’t do this to me.”
He can’t be dead.
Walking into the room, I start to shake my head. Simone rushes past me so she can help someone else, and when I crouch to pick up the jacket, panic flays my soul raw.
The meager sense of safety I’ve had growing up in the Cosa Nostra evaporates, and the brutal world I’m a part of closes in around me.
An intense need for Christiano to come back grows and grows until it drives me over the edge, and I sink to my knees.
Inside of me, there’s a relentless longing and deep sorrow, while on the outside, I can only stare at the jacket in my hands. My thumb brushes over the blood that’s still wet.
Christiano.
Having lost all sense of time or where I am, I can only stare at the jacket.
Suddenly, I’m grabbed by my shoulders and pulled back to my feet. When Augusto says something, I can’t make out his words because it sounds like I’m underwater.
Even though people are rushing around the hospital, it feels like I’m moving in slow motion as Augusto leads me somewhere.
Time warps even more until my breathing begins to slow down. The ruthless sharpness of the grief swirling in my soul lessens slightly, and a heavy, floating sensation creeps through my mind.
“You’ll feel better soon.” I hear Mom’s voice, her hands gripping one of mine. “Mamma’s here.”
The fogginess makes it difficult for me to think, and I fight it for what feels like hours before I’m able to start making sense of the sounds around me.
I notice I’m sitting on a chair by the nurses’ station, and Mom is with me.
“Hey, sweetie,” she coos. “Are you feeling better?”
My sight focuses on her worried face, and while my mind becomes a little clearer, I remember that I’ve lost Christiano, and acute grief changes my entire world from colorful to pitch black.
A weird sensation creeps through me as I stare at Mom, and slowly the unbearable ache and sense of loss diminish until I feel nothing.
Somehow, I manage to switch off my emotions because facing the devastating reality that Christiano is dead is not something I can deal with.
Mom’s eyebrows knit together as her worry increases. “Sienna?”
My lips part, and my speech is delayed before I say, “Yes.”
