Mafia’s Curves

Third person’s POV

The petit girl dressed in black wiped the streak of tears that fell from her eyes. She sat idly on the bench of the park looking at nothing in particular. She has no one to turn to now…. Now that he is gone.

It seemed like she had no purpose to live and she didn’t. The only man she ever loved is dead, he has been snatched away from her… once again but this time for good.

Her entire face was swollen from crying so much for the past few days. Her innocent brown eyes has no life left in them anymore, the pink swollen lips that he used to love so much is now blue and dry due to lack of hydration. Her sleek black hair that used to shine is now dull, nothing about her is right. Her appearance looks just as dead as she feels from inside, hollow. Once a cheery girl is now a emotionless block of stone.

She has been sucked into the oblivious whirlpool of bleak darkness, where she physically feels pains but mentally she feels numb.

She took a deep breath of the fresh air, according to Diana, he used to come here often. And it truly does smell like him too, morning dew and wood. He heart scrunched up in grieve.

Two days that’s how long Fallon has been coping up with Hayden’s death. All she has done I these two days is crying till she faints then wake up and cry again untill she throws up and faints again. The maids help her clean herself up sometimes but she really needs to be alone.

Fallon has been touring herself with every memory for Hayden. She couldn’t just digest the fact that he is dead, her heart stopped beating for a couple of seconds. She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, more like the sob threating to come out.Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

She didn’t wanna cry in a place where her Hayden used to find peace. Tears streamed down her face without a pause, biting her lips so that no sound would come out. She leaned back on the bench trying to steady her breath.

But Fallon isn’t the one who took the news the hardest, it is his mother. She has been sitting in Caleb’s childhood room with his favourite toys and security blanket wrapped around her. She has not moved an inch from the spot, where her baby used to sleep, she sits there looking longingly at the bed.

Her husband tried to take her to her bedroom but she didn’t move or even say anything. She just sat there. All she could do was remember her son’s memories. His first mumma, first crawl, first walk, first tooth he grew, the first tooth he lost. Everything. It haunted her, she will never be able to make her boy sleep on her lap singing lullaby or feeding him his favourite food.

Her sweet little boy is dead.

Her eyes filled with another set of tears and the throabing pain reappeared in her head. She sobbed with Caleb’s memory going through her head and hitting her like a train. The pain in her head increased and she collapsed against the cot, the second time for today.

The rest of the family members are no different. The father is drowning himself in the comfort of alcohol. He lays on his office couch the entire day drinking his son’s favourite drinks. There are a tons of diaries of Caleb neatly kept on the coffee table. When ever after drinking himself to oblivion the full ache doesn’t go away, he pulls out a diary and reads his son’s pre-puberty and teen thoughts and emotions.

Sometime the ache would only increase, reading how Caleb felt proud when his dad used to praise him for getting good grades in school or doing well in sports. His eyes filled with tears of agony when he read the part where Caleb wrote how his father’s burnt cookies were better than his brother Alexander’s disgusting tuna turkey sandwich.

He took a half empty bottle of Jameson and drowned the whole content.

Diana suffered internally, she couldn’t cry infront of her kids. She bottled all of her emotions when her kids were around, which is most of the time. She would have a fake smile on her face and go on with her day. But ever night or whenever she was alone, she’d wail.

She’d cry untill she has no tears left. Sometimes her breathing would get difficult and she’d have to take medicines.

She’s feeding her kids now, who are strapped in the kids chair not wanting to eat vegetables. “Mumma no!!! I dwn’t wanna have wgly gween thing!!” Xyera her eldest daughter said making an innocent pout. Diana fake a pout herself, “But it good for your health baby” she said and tried to feed Xander who’s face scrunched up in disgust. She managed to feed everyone with their share of broccoli and put some grilled chicken in front of them.

Xavier pouted, “Caweb unwle iw so muwh bewwer, he gibs us chicwen firwt” he whined and digged into the chicken just like his siblings making her mother stiffen. She called out one of the maid and told her to watch the kids while she takes a shower.

Turning the shower on she cried hysterically.

Alexander was a walking zombie, he couldn’t eat, drink or sleep. He felt the most guilt, as a big brother it was his job to keep his little brother out of danger and out of the reach of the dangerous people. But instead of doing that he stayed in the sideline watching his little brother drain his life into gutter.

How would he provide the support to his family when he is a mess himself. How will he console his mother when he felt like crying himself? How will he steady his father when he himself wants to drown in alcohol’s misery? How will he tell his wife to stop hurting when he wants to drag poisonous dagger in his heart? How will he tell his brother’s love to move on when all he wants to do is hold his brother?

Right. Left. Left. Right upper cut. Center. Left kick. Right knee.

He punched the punching bag, sweat drowned his body. He took a deep breath looking around the gym, their gym. The gym, they built with their father when they were young, where he taught Caleb how to fight. A pained smile made its way on his lips remembering the time when Caleb tore his ligament and Alexander rushed to the hospital. After knowing why he, like an imbecile punched the wall, Alexander collected his brother in his arm consoling how it’s not right to punch walls even when your girlfriend break ups with you.

“What’s up Alex?” A familiar sound came from the entry door, Alexander whipped his head to the source of the sound in shock. His eyes wide and jaw hanging but soon that changed to one of a menace snarl and wrathful eyes.

“YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING ME!!” He roared and ran to grab that bastrad.

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The head maid of the king’s colleted everyone and convinced them to have some food. She knew that the only way to convince them would be, ‘ Caleb wouldn’t want you to suffer like that’ she really feels guilty but they’ll kill themselves if they don’t get any food. All they have been doing is crying.

Rose, Jason, Diana and Fallon sat quietly in the table, not wanting to make small talks whatsoever. The maids served the food and went inside the kitchen, the mourners shoved the food down their throats. Eating not because they want to, because they have to.

In the middle of the quite lunch at 5 o’ clock, the main door thrashed opened and came in a raging Alex, “Look who I found” he spat and pushed the beat to pulp man in the dining room.

Everybody’s eyes were wide open in astonishment, “Ca-caleb?!” Rose stuttered looking at her son. Caleb lifted her bruised face giving his mother a goofy grin, “Hey momma” he said, his mother cried out and went to hug her little boy, “My son! My baby! My baby is alive, my sweet little baby” she cried taking the mountainous man in her arms, rocking them.

She pulled back cupping her son’s face in her tiny palms, “I am sorry to hurt you mumma” he whispered softly, tears threatening to spill out of his green eyes. She just sobbed and kissed her son’s entitled face. She cried clutching her son close to her, Caleb put his head on his mother’s chest listening to the heartbeat that always calmed him down.