17. Vera
Chapter 17
Vera
I walk cautiously into the cubicle and immediately my entire body is as cold as ice.
Staring down at a little boy, covered in filth, barefoot, huddled in the corner of the cubicle.
My heart shatters.
Tears stream down my cheeks at the sight of him.
I know right away that he is my son.
His bright green eyes are staring up at me. The same color as mine. His dark black hair is the same as Massimo's. His lips, nose, and jaw - he looks like the perfect mix between his father and me.
I swallow hard, forcing the tears back. He can't see my pain. Right now, it's not about me. I need him to feel safe.
Crouching low, still keeping some distance between us, I speak softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
"It's okay. I won't hurt you. I've come to take you home. "
The words stick in my throat, my chest tightening as emotion threatens to overwhelm me. All I want to do is rush forward, wrap my arms around him, and promise him that I'll protect him forever. But he's so terrified, his little body pressed deeper into the corner, scooting further away from me. The sight breaks my heart.
"Hey, it's ok. I promise you. It's all going to be ok."
I shift a little closer.
We are not safe here.
"Honey, do you know who I am?"
He shakes his head. His little fists are clenched tight in front of his chest.
"It's ok. It's ok if you don't know. But I am someone who cares very deeply for you."
"Who - who are you?" he stammers, barely audible.
"I'm your mother." I sigh softly. Knowing that this information is very likely to overwhelm him.
"I hate you." He screams, kicking at the air, kicking at me.
"What?" I gasp. "Wait - no - please stop - "
I rush forward, he's kicking at the walls and he's going to hurt himself.
"Stop," I beg, wrapping my arms tightly around his thin, frail body. I hold him tightly against my chest, rocking back and forth slowly. He keeps trying to fight me, pushing me away, clawing at me.
I grab his wrists and restrain him as best I can.
"I am not going to hurt you. I want to take you home." I say again, gently .
"I don't want to go home with you. You gave me away. You didn't want me."
"That's not true." I cry out, tears falling down my cheeks. "That's not true. I have been looking for you. I've been searching for you. Someone stole you from me." I try to make him understand.
"I don't believe you." He is crying too, sobbing, but he's stopped fighting. He's just limp in my arms.
"You are my son. I would do anything to keep you safe. Whatever they told you isn't true." I sigh, rocking him, back and forth, trying to soothe him.
I am still so aware that we are in danger here. I can hear the mayhem outside. I can hear gunshots and the screams of dying men. But none of that matters.
My son.
My son is in my arms.
I take a deep breath.
"We need to go, sweetheart. It's not safe here. Please - come with me."
I let go of his little wrists, giving him freedom, trying to earn his trust.
His eyes are locked onto me, full of curiosity and distrust.
"Are you really my mom?" His voice is so small, fragile, barely holding together under the weight of everything he's been told.
"I'm your mom. And your dad—he's here too. We both came to save you because we love you more than you can imagine. We both want you home, safe and warm, with your whole family." I swallow hard, trying to steady my voice as I reach out to him, praying my words will somehow reach the hurt that's etched into his young face.
Tears stream down his cheeks.
"They told me my family was dead. That I had no family. That no one wanted me," he sobs, each word like a knife to my heart.
My soul feels like it's being crushed under the weight of his pain. How do I take this away from him? How do I show him the love I feel, the overwhelming need to protect him, so he knows—truly knows—that none of it was true?
"Will you give me a chance to show you they were wrong?" I ask softly, holding back my own tears.
He stares at me, his little eyes searching mine, watching every movement, every word. He's trying to read me, trying to find the truth in my face.
Finally, he nods, but I can see he's still unsure. But all I need is for him to try.
I stand up slowly, pulling him to his feet. He is shivering from the cold, so I take my coat off and wrap it around his shoulders. He grabs at the edges and pulls it tighter against his body. It's so long it drags on the floor at his feet.
I keep fighting this overwhelming hatred for the people who did this to him.
"Hello, kiddo."
I look up and see Elio standing in the doorway.
I step between him and my son, shielding my little boy with my own body. "Stay away from him, Elio. I will kill you." I snarl like a lioness.
"Oh please, Mateo and I are good friends - aren't we Mateo?"
"Mateo?" I stammer.
"You don't even know his name. What a joke. Hey, Mateo - are you going to trust this lady, or would you rather come with me?"
I hear my son step out from behind me. "Uncle Elio." He stammers.
"That's right kiddo. It's me. Remember I brought you a chocolate last time."
"I never had chocolate before." He whispers.
Elio smiles, a sinister smile that boils my blood. "Yes, that's why I brought you one. So, you could try it. But remember what you promised. You promised you would owe me a favor."
"Leave him alone, Elio. He's just a child. You are a monster for what you did to him."
"Lady, you have no idea what I am capable of - so I suggest you step away from the kid and let me take him."
"Over my dead body."
"Fine."
Elio flies towards me. I push Mateo out of the way and try to grab the crowbar at the same time. But I'm too slow. Elio's shoulder slams into my stomach and knocks the air from my lungs. I collapse to the floor, choking, grasping for the crowbar so that I can fight for my son.
Elio kicks me in the ribs, and I can't even scream because I have no air.
He laughs, grabbing Mateo around his tiny, scrawly upper arm.
"You're hurting me," Mateo complains. Elio shakes him harshly. "Shut up, brat. Do as you're told." He starts dragging my son towards the doorway and I push myself up to my feet, the crowbar in my hand, but the world is spinning wildly around me. I lean on the wall for a second, trying hard to catch my breath.
Elio is too close to the door. He's too close to getting away with my son. I need to get my shit together and fight him.
"Elio," I say, but it comes out as a whisper. "Give me back my son."
He turns to look at me and laughs. "What are you going to do about it?"
I stand, unsteady, wavering, but determined not to let him leave.
I look down at my son. He looks terrified. I think he understands that Elio does not mean him well.
"It's ok, Mateo. It's going to be ok."
"Mommy?" his little voice calls out and my heart rips from my chest.
"Don't call her that. She gave you away. She doesn't want you." Elio snarls.
"It's not true, baby. Don't listen to him."
"I'm done with this. You're wasting my time. I'm leaving and this kid is coming with me. "
I grip the crowbar tighter.
"This is your last chance, Elio. Let my son go."
"I said it already - what the fuck are you going to do to me, Vera?"