Post by arlo rossi vittorio on Apr 8, 2014 22:24:35 GMT -5
"Mr. Vittorio? ... Arlo? I don't know.. I hate to be.. Hate to be the one to tell you this... Your brother.. Damian... I'm so sorry, Arlo, but Damian is dead."
Arlo awoke with a start. His fingertips brushed against his cheek; he had been crying in his sleep again. The man was drenched in a cold sweat from his reoccurring nightmare. A night hadn't passed where Arlo got a full night's sleep. His brother's recent death plagued his thoughts even in his unconscious mind. The night he found out. The night he had to hear from Damian's friend, Wynter, that his brother committed suicide. Arlo's chest tightened as he choked back a sob. Damian is gone. How could he let his little brother out of his sight? What kind of guardian is he? Damian, the boy he practically raised. His brother. His rock. How could he be gone? How could he kill himself? Over a girl?
The school allowed Arlo to read the note. Something about 'closure' or some bullshit like that, according to the grievance counselor. Arlo knew he shouldn't be mad at the girl who caused his brother's duress. Still, he couldn't help the anger that built up inside of him every time he thought about it. Sure, there were other things at play. Dae wasn't... Hadn't been.. Stable.
But her. She was the trigger. If she had 'loved' him so much, how did she not know what this would do to him? Arlo could no longer choke back the tears that he had been trying to contain. They fell freely down his face, and he made no effort to wipe them away. Not even the beautiful love of his life, Serenity Rider, could comfort him any longer. He had become too distant to even respond to her letters any more. For the first time in his life, he was truly alone.
He was hollow.
Arlo put his face in his hands as he sat on the corner of the bed in the room he had recently rented out. He had arrived in America earlier in the day, to attend his brother's candlelight vigil and funeral at Salem. Arlo wanted to see the faces of Damian's friends. See how many lives were affected by this.. Just to maybe get the sense that Arlo wasn't alone? That maybe Damian was still somehow here? Even he wasn't sure as to why he was going. Wynter had called him, and here he was. The girl hardly left his side, Arlo thought, perhaps because she was afraid he might do something drastic too?
The flow of tears did not ebb with the time that had passed, rather, they continued to steadily stream down his face. Everything Arlo had lived on for was gone. What was he to do now? He felt so... Lost. All of his life up until this point was now simply meaningless. 'I should've just let us die in the poverty of Venice...' Arlo immediately choked as the intrusive thought crossed his mind. It felt as if someone had just hit him in the solar plexus and knocked the wind out of him. A long moment passed as he was reeling in his mind. Could this be how the snowball effects start? Did Damian ever think like this? ... Was Arlo going to end up the same way?
Arlo let out a frustrated growl as he flipped over the side table by his bed. Bright amber liquid seeped out of the scotch bottle that had helped Arlo get to sleep earlier that night. The man stared at the scotch as the violent smell of alcohol permeated the air. For a brief moment, he wondered if the scotch was worth saving -- then he remembered he no longer had to financially secure his little brother anymore. A glare etched itself on the man's face. With another angry snarl, he punted the bottle across the room. On the other side, it hit the blue wall and shattered into a billion pieces. Arlo paid no attention to the noise or the mess, as he was violently throwing clothes on his body. He had to get out. A pair of jeans, boots, and a jacket later, Arlo briskly walked out of his room, and out the front entrance of the Laughing Gnome Inn. The man pulled out a pack of cigarettes, placed one between his lips and lit up the cancer stick.
It was a calm night in Salem. Too calm for the grief Arlo was feeling in every bone of his body. It was all too normal. Shouldn't the skies have been splitting open, lightning striking the grounds, mass fire, chaos, torrential downpour? Something? Arlo looked to the sky for an answer. Nothing.
"I guess it was a little too much to ask for." He scoffed and took a long drag out of his cigarette. Would this ache ever stop?
Tagged: wynter tamara cobhthaigh , madeleine albright hearst , aaaaand anyone else who wishes to join.
Words: 795
Notes: If anyone wants to be so kind as to critique this, it was fucking hard and I'm still feeling self conscious about it. ;-;
Words: 795
Notes: If anyone wants to be so kind as to critique this, it was fucking hard and I'm still feeling self conscious about it. ;-;