Page 25 of Angel
“I don’t think it helped,” I told him simply.
Angelo sighed. “I’m sorry it didn’t.”
“I didn’t speak for six months. That much I remember.”
Angelo ran his hand up my arm, attempting to comfort me.
“And the nightmares...” I took in a shuddering breath. “ThoseI remember. I kept seeing the murder happen over and over again. Sometimes Sophia would walk in and they’d get her too. Always there was just me left.”
“I can’t imagine,” he murmured.
“I bounced around to a few different therapists, but nothing really seemed to help. I had bad anxiety and depression for years. I got a prescription to help deal, but eventually the doctors told me I was not clinically depressed.” It took some effort to smile. “I can’t say that I had a problem with that diagnosis. I hated all those pills.”
“But what changed? Something had to change? You don’t seem depressed and anxious today.”
“Mostly, it was my writing that helped. And going to college. It got me in a new headspace. Being responsible for readings and projects got my mind off of being down all the time. And the people I met in college didn’t know about my past. That made a difference. It was a fresh start, you know?”
He nodded. “Do you remember any more about what happened since that day?”
“Bits and pieces. I mean, those first months are blurry… but after that, yeah. I think I do.”
“Maybe you suppressed that one memory to cope. Maybe not right after the event happened, but at some point. That could explain why you don’t remember everything from before.”
I stared at him, hating how true the words probably were.
Just how much of my life did I know nothing about?
How much ofmyselfdid I not know?
“I guess that’s why I didn’t recognize you or Franko.”
He tilted his head. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. Time does that to the best of us. I didn’t immediately recognize you either, for the record, when I saw you in the coffee shop that first time. I just thought you looked familiar.”
“At least you remember most of the details of your life before you were fifteen.”
“Yes,” he slowly said.
“I barely do.”
His jaw clicked.
“You look angry,” I stated simply.
Angelo ran a hand along his jaw. “I am. Just at the fact that you had to go through this.”
“Well there’s nothing to be done about it now.”
He didn’t look at me, instead seeming to be off in his own world.
“I also didn’t remember anything about Dad’s job. I mean, about...”
Angelo looked back at me. “His involvement in the mafia world?”
“I knew he was a tailor, but I didn’t remember he had… dealings.”
“He was kind of my family’s tailor. He did civilian work, but I don’t think he worked for any of the other families.”
“And you don’t know why they might have been killed?”
