I miss you in ways that not even words can understand.

                                ~Gemma Troy~

                                        Mia

"I could never hate you."

I whispered again, my voice so soft and low I thought he wouldn't hear me, but he heard me this time. His ear just an inch from my lips, the stink of his whiskey breath filled the air. If I were feeling stronger, I would have told him he really did stink.

He jerked his head immediately he heard my whisper, his eyes gazed on my face, deeply staring at me as if I was a novelty, yet I saw a glimpse of happiness and adoration and, dare I say, love. It was a look I had never seen on Rom's face; it was new. It told it's own story.

"Where have you been?" though there was a split of a smile when he asked it, I could see the sadness that he allowed me to see. It was in his eyes, the smell on his breath. Rom loved whiskey, but he has never drunk so much to the point of wobbling or incoordination; he's always been perfectly sane even when drunk, yet that is not to say he doesn't retell stories to me or laugh at his own jokes. This version of him broke my heart.

I have been hiding, I wanted to say, but no sound came out.

My view of Rom, up until that moment, was of an indestructible man. Nothing seemed to faze him, not in my presence anyway. He was not scared when we got assaulted in Italy on our way home from the race track or when he got two bullets that one rainy day when I begged him to dance in the rain with me.

Nothing scared Rom. He was fearless; it was as if the world took orders from him, or maybe he expected it to align with his expectations. But not this time, now the bags under his eyes spoke of a man who wasn't in control anymore, and I was humbled that I had such an effect on him.

Seeing his pleading eyes, begging me not to disappear again, gave me a sneak peek of what I meant to him.

If he were a crying man, he would have probably burst out in tears or shed some at that moment, but my Rom just gave me a pitiful look, a kiss on my forehead, and a gentle caress across my cheek.

I was so tired I couldn't keep my eyes open for longer. I was trying, but I could feel them drooping, and Rom shouted:" Please don't leave me again." it was as if I was going to a physical place or one he had no access. He had a look of a man willing to make a deal with the devil; his trembling hands kept moving on my cheeks.

I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to know how long I've been asleep, but I couldn't.

I heard him speaking; I felt his body hovering over me, his face almost time touching mine, the smell of whiskey almost rendering me breathless.

It felt as if I hadn't seen him or heard his voice in years.

Darkness was my haven, no memories, no pain but no Rom. I needed to make a choice, did I love Rom enough to face my memories head-on or was unconsciousness the best place to be?

I did not want to cheat myself out of life. I wanted to know what happens from now.

Where do I go?

What do I do? And how does he feel about me? Life was dangling a happiness carrot in my face daring me to reach for it—an opportunity to deal with my demons and reach for the stars. But reaching for the stars or finding happiness again required me to open a floodgate of memories that I would have wished never to face.

Rom fumbled with words continuously. I wondered if he knew or understood what he was saying or whether the whiskey was speaking for him.

Even though my eyes were closed, I forced my brain to stay with him for a little longer. That's how I knew he had jumped out of bed, leaving the room.

A few minutes later, I heard voices, new voices, but I heard him speak first. Otherwise, I would have panicked. His presence gave me comfort and a sense of security.

Suddenly, someone forced my eyes open, a bright light hitting my eyes like car headlights. I blinked, the same way I always did when I switched on the lights in the middle of the night.

"Ameria, " the voice said. "Can you hear me?" I wanted to say yes, but my mouth was dry, and I was too tired to move it.

I felt paralyzed.

"If you can hear me, lift any finger on your right hand," he added. I willed my hand to do as he requested, but I couldn't.

Then I head his voice begging me," Please, Bella Mia."

How could I not answer that plea, yet my body felt like a giant log was sitting on it. I had no control over my body, yet for him, I wanted to, so I tried one more time, sending my own plea to my brain for help, and I did.

I raised my index finger, which brought with it a collective sigh of relief from those in the room. Hearing his gave me pride and a sense of accomplishment.

Even though I wasn't looking forward to telling him about what I had gone through, I missed him.

"She is awake," the man who I assumed was a doctor said.

"How can she be awake when her eyes are closed?" Romano demanded, his voice sounding gruff and threatening.

"I mean, she is no longer unconscious; she is tired, " the doctor qualified calmly.

"How can she be tired when she has been asleep for almost a week?" he was being difficult and confrontational, yet I couldn't find fault in it. He was just seeking reassurance.

"Sleeping for almost a week can be exhausting, Mr. Bellucci."

"And your idea is to sleep some more to beat exhaustion?"

Please stop urging, Rom. The doctor is right; just let me sleep for a while. I wanted to say, my voice, however, remained hidden somewhere out of my reach.

Eventually, the doctors seemed to have convinced Rom that I wasn't really slipping away to unconsciousness again. However, they said I would be monitored hourly.

Rom didn't get back to bed with me, and I was somewhat disappointed. I wanted to feel his body around me, to remember how it had been. I needed him with me even though he reeked of his favorite drink. Instead, I heard him pull what I imagined was a chair by the scraping of the floor, and the thud of his behind hitting the chair as he sat beside me.

My disappointment did not last long because I felt him pull my hand in his, holding it tightly until I started feeling pain. He must have realized his hold was hurting me because he relaxed his hand, reminding me of how it felt to have my hand in his. It was warm, rough, as always but warm and big. I loved the feeling it gave me, like a protective blanket.

I was fighting with exhaustion, trying to force myself to stay a little longer with him. I wanted to feel him, hear him speak. Though my eyes remained closed, I was aware of him for the whole time.

"The doctors say you're just asleep this time," he whispered. "But I'm so afraid, Bella Mia. I'm worried that you'll leave me again."

No, I don't want to leave.

It was the first time I ever hoped another human being could read my mind. I would have given him access to mine.

I'm not sure if you can hear me, " he paused for a while, his finger caressing my palm.

Yes, I can.

"I want you to know how sorry I am. I'm sorry that I came late. I'm sorry that you lost our baby, more so that you had to go through the whole ordeal."

His voice shook, giving me another glimpse of the man I love. Romano's voice never trembled. It was always steady and authoritative.

He was blaming himself. It wasn't his fault; I wanted to tell him so. I made a vow that once I woke up fully, I would let him know that it wasn't his fault.

"Its okay to sleep if you're tired; what is not okay is hiding from me."

I know, baby.

" I hate that I can't get to you. That there exists a place that you can go without me scares me as much as it bothers me. I hate it so fucking much."

I wondered whether that statement was from his ability to always be in control, or was it specifically his inability to reach me? And I wished it was the latter.

"There is a lot I want to tell you, Bella mia. A lot," his voice lowered to my ear as if it was a secret. His hand leaving mine to brush off a strand of hair from my forehead.

I can't wait to hear it.

"I want to tell you how much I miss you. I miss your smile, your laughter, your bubbliness. I even miss drunk you" I heard him chuckle a little, and it was the best sound so far.

"I want to take you to places I know you might love. I want to give you anything you want from me. Just name it.

I want your love. I want to be your home as much as you're mine. I want you to say you're mine as must as I'm yours.

I was so caught up in his voice, his words, the feeling of his hand in mine, and his breath that kept hitting my face when he spoke over me that I had managed to convince myself that it was okay to hear him speak of it and it was okay to listen until said to let him in.

Letting him in meant I had to tell him what Silvio's doctor did to me. It means I had do describe the pain I felt during that abortion. That Silvio beat me up, slapped me over and over again until I had fainted. I could still feel his brows, his feet kicking me like I was a dog even when I was down.

I would have to tell him the wave of sorrow that had followed when the doctor had finally said the fetus had been removed. It was as if our baby had been a speck of dust in their coats—something so inconsequential to warrant a second thought.

I had opened the floodgates of hell, and I felt as if the devil had been waiting for me all along. The memories hit me like a splash of cold water on my face.

I felt as if I had had enough. I didn't want to remember; I didn't want to mourn my baby again, I couldn't face this again. It was too soon.

I'm sorry, baby, I thought, even as I felt my heart bleeding with memories I hadn't forgotten, the pain I had felt, and the sadness of knowing I will never meet my baby or know whether it had been a boy or a girl. I didn't know how to deal with that, but I also knew I couldn't hide forever, he needed me, or he would break; I knew that. I  understood it now that I had seen him, yet I welcome the darkness again, feeling tears coursing down my temples. I knew he would see them and feel terrible, but there was nothing I could do; I didn't have the strength to speak; it seemed I had used all my energy on my whisper to him and the few minutes I spent listening and feeling him. Luckily, the darkness embraced me like an old friend.