AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He may be putting an effort into getting better, but the demons inside his mind wouldn't rest, always whispering things to him and pushing him further into a corner.
So, though he was making progress, he was also stagnating.
Because forgiveness was too out of the question for him.
It was a few weeks later that he finally gave in, going home for the first time in months. In his short identity crisis after curiouscat had disappeared, he'd shut everyone out, refusing to meet his family for fear he wouldn't be able to keep his act up.
And how could he, when inside he felt like he was slowly dying? How could he focus his strength into a stupid act when he was using all his power to stop himself from going crazy—from effectively shutting himself from the world until he slowly withered away.
At his therapist's advice, he agreed to move home temporarily—if only to make sure he wasn't a danger to himself.
In the beginning, when he'd been told that he was exhibiting dangerous signs of self-harm, Raf had laughed that off. Yet the more he thought about it, the more he realized his therapist was right.
One way or another, hewasself-harming—whether consciously or unconsciously. He was self-sabotaging, and he wasn't going to stop unless he made an active effort to better himself.
"My darling boy," Cosima cried out as he carried his bags inside the house, dumping them on the floor to catch her as she wrapped her arms around him.
His mother was a tall woman, but next to Raf, she looked small and fragile. So much so, in fact, that Raf felt a pang of hurt for the first time in…forever.
She'd committed an awful crime. He was aware of that and rightfully acknowledged it. But she was still his mother, and whether he wanted or not, he loved her.
He'd loved her even as he hated her.
Slowly, his arms came around her bony shoulders, returning the hug.
She'd lost weight. Most probably due to worrying about him all the time.
“I-I’m h-home," he whispered, reveling in her warmth.
It felt years since the last time he'd allowed someone to embrace him—to give him any type of affection.
His eyes misted with tears, and he barely managed to keep them at bay.
"Let's get you set up, shall we?" his mother continued, picking up one of his suitcases and leading him up the stairs.
She did all the talking. He smiled tightly at her, allowing himself one brief moment in which she was just his mother. Not someone he inherently disliked, not someone who'd ruined an innocent person's life.
For one moment, he imagined he was back in the past, when he'd been ignorant of what happened around him, when he'd taken her love and his ability to return it for granted.
"I have so much to tell you darling. So much has changed and I never got to tell you," she droned on.
He kept an indulgent smile, yet he only internalized her words when she mentioned Antonio.
“W-what?"
"Antonio is dead. Some hussy killed him at the convent he was visiting. Can you believe that? She killed him right in the church. Good Lord, I swear I've never heard something like this before."
Raf blinked.
Antonio was…dead?
"And now Franco's in a foul mood, trying to get your father to demand retribution. She's an Agosti, you know. We've never gotten along with them, what with how their son snubbed us with the engagement, years ago. And now his sister killed Antonio? Savages, I tell you…"
Antonio was dead.
Three words and a weight was lifted off his shoulders—one that had been pinning him down to the ground, feeding his nightmares and adding to his constant worry.
He didn't bother to correct his mother when she lamented his death—didn't even try to tell her he probably deserved what he got because she would never admit it.
