AN: Hey guys! How've you been? So the media above doesn't really have anything to do with the story, but I just wanted to say, I can now never look at anything with Cupid the same since what he did to our poor little Neeks.

Anyway, I won't keep you guys much longer. Only to say this.

500 READS?!?!?!?!

I can't even- I've lost my ability to even- it's impossible to even- I can't even-. Okay, I'm done. But seriously, what is it about this story (other than Solangelo) that you like?! Especially for me to have 500 READS?!?! Comment, vote, and tell me what you like about my writing style and how I portray the different characters. Also tell me what you don't like, so I can try to improve this story, constructive criticism well appreciated!

Anyhoodles, on with the story!

TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!!

Nico's POV
(Nico's nightmare)

     I ran too my sister and younger self as fast as I could, trying to step in front of the bullet that was about to be shot. I could see Bianca handing over her backpack, and laying down the jewelry that had been on her wrists moments before.
     I tried to run faster, moving my legs in quicker strides, pumping my arms harder, but nothing was working. Instead of running faster, I moved slower. My pace continued to get slower, then just before the point I would stop, I started moving backwards.
     This started out slowly, but soon gained speed until the scene I had been so desperately trying to get to, vanished beyond the horizon. I stop trying to run altogether. I suddenly heard a gunshot ring out around me, then I wasn't where I had previously been.
     I heard crying, then looked down and saw Bianca's lifeless body, blood soaking her chest where she was shot. I knelt down next to her, angry with myself that I hadn't been able to save her. I screamed as tears made rivers down my pale cheeks.
     I screamed and yelled, asking whatever force from above why it had to be her. Why it had to be my perfect sister. My perfect sister who's laughter sounded like bells ringing, echoing off of ornate porcelain walls. Who's dark hair wasn't a boring and plain black like mine, but a deep, chocolate. Her beautiful olive skin without a blemish, and her eyes wide with kindness and adoration towards anyone.
     It wasn't just externally she was beautiful, but internally too. She never said anything hateful, she loved to play with me, even though I was, and still am, such a nuisance. She never rose her voice...... except for when she told me too run...... and I didn't listen.
   I took another look at the body lying on the cement. Bianca's once, and still, beautiful eyes were empty voids of emotion that came when death took you to the final resting place if your soul.
Tears streaked down my younger selves face, and mine. I took one last step towards Bianca's body, and suddenly, everything turned to mist. It was thick white fog in a sea of endless black. Then, the mist morphed into my late mother.
She was beautiful, and it was no wonder where Bianca got her looks. My mothers dark brown hair was cascading down her shoulders in gorgeous curls. Her olive skin was without lines from aging, with what you would call a beauty mark above her lips, to the left. Her high cheekbones gave her a regal feeling.
She wore old fashioned clothes, as she always preferred the elegant clothing they had back in the day. She was dressed in a loose, but fitting black lace dress, reaching down twelve inches below her knees. White gloves swept up her arms to her elbows, covering her delicate fingers in soft silk.
     A deep red shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and even though she looked beautiful, her features were ruined by a sneer playing on her red lips. Her eyes glinted coldly as she looked me up and down.
     "Il vostro un fallimento per la vostra famiglia." She told me harshly, calling me a failure to my family.
     "Una vergogna per la nostra una volta forte eredità." A disgrace to our once strong legacy.
     Her words stung like glass embedding itself in my flesh. Even though I was only four when my mother died, struck by lightning, I still remember her kindness, which now seemed to have been completely erased, locked away in a prison where it rotted into bitterness and hatred.
      "Tua sorella era contento di averti lasciato." Your sister was glad to have left you.
      My mother walked up to me, and I stumbled back, scared of what she might do. Still, she followed me until she was close enough to whip her hand out and slap me across the cheek, hard.
     I put a hand up to my stinging face, shocked. I look at Maria Di Angelo, who I had moments before called mother, even more tears caressing my cheeks.
     She stared at me coldly. Using language I thought she would never use, she told me some of the worst words I could hear from someone I previously thought to be as kind as her, and this time in English.
     "Go to hell you fucking homosexual bitch!" Her Italian accent was thick in her cruel voice.
     "NO!" I scream at her, but she looked unfazed. "I never even knew you, and you never knew me! You are worse than Hades! Just leave me alone!"
     Maria just smirks, and before she can say something else, I take off in the other direction, trying to find my way through inky blackness.
     In no time, I'm lost, drowning in what I once thought to be a comforting color. I here Maria's voice echoing around me, whispering my flaws and boasting my weaknesses.
     I cover my ears and scream hoping my own wails will make her stop. But alas, no prevail. Her taunts only get louder, and more vicious. I scream again, and again, and again. I scream until my voice is too sore to scream anymore.
     Then, finally, her voice stops, and I'm left alone. Or so I thought. I peek through my eyes, and see my father. I whimper at the sight of him. His obsidian eyes pierce through me, and I suddenly can't breath.
     I fall to back, trying to get away from him, but some invisible force brings me closer and closer, until I'm kneeling right in front of him.
     I make a pathetic squeak, as he brings up his fist. The first hit, is right on the back of my head, then he brings up his booted foot up and kicked my stomach as I lay weakly on the floor, trying to curl into the fetal position to protect any major organs in my abdomen.
     He pummels my sides and kicks my head. At first I thought that the blackness in my vision was just from the vast empty space I was in, but I soon realized it was just black spots dancing in my vision, threatening me with unconsciousness.
     Suddenly, the abuse stops. I peek through my fingers. As soon as I see the object in my fathers hands, my stomach drops. He held a gun in his right hand, finger firmly on the trigger.
     I met his cold, unforgiving eyes.
     "This is for being a disgrace." He tells me as he fires the first shot. It hits my left shoulder, right above where my heart should be.
     "This is for being a homosexual." A shot to my shin. Pain flares up my body, already soaked with blood.
     "This is for being born." Another shot to my stomach.
     "This is for being you." He looks me in the eyes without remorse. Just pure hatred. He delivers the final shot, right to my forehead. Dead.

(End of nightmare)
Nico's POV

I woke up in a cold sweat, the blankets on the bed of my cell were soaked in perspiration. I started hyperventilating.
     It's just a dream. I think to myself. No..... not just a dream. A nightmare.
    I try to steady my breathing, but fail miserably. I shakily stand up, still breathing hard, and spot my plate from before gone. John must've came in and taken it while I was sleeping.
     I feel dried tears on my face, and my throat still felt sore, as if I had been screaming in real life, not just in my dream. I walk over to a wall on the far side of my cramped cell, and slide down, burying my head in my heads.
      I unconsciously tugged at my raven hair, playing the events of my nightmare over and over in my head. My sister dying again, my mothers horrible words and scathing remarks, my father abuse, that lead to my death.
     In truth, I wouldn't care if I died. It would be better than continuing my horrible life here...... or anywhere for that matter.
     What made dying in my dreams so horrible though, was the fact that I wasn't the one who chose when to end my life. I'd rather code when to kill myself than not know who would kill me or when I would die until moments before.
     The panel on the door slid open and John's beady eyes peered through, looking at me with a bored gleam.
     "Try not to scream so much in your sleep next time, alright Di Angelo? It disturbs other patients because "only they have the right to scream."" Then, without waiting for an answer closed the panel door.
     What a bitch. I think. Apparently I really was screaming in my sleep. I look around my cell for the fiftieth time since getting here. White walls, white floor, white bed, white ceiling, white hospital gown. White everything.
     But the white suddenly seems a little more friendly than before I had that nightmare. At least it wasn't that swallowing black that devoured everything in lay its beastly eyes on.
     I stand up, and make my way slowly towards the door. I knock, and call out;
"Hey, what time is it?"
     "Nearing dinner. Be patient!"
     I roll my eyes, and grudgingly mumble a thank you. I walk back over to the wall I was previously at, and sit down.
     I sat there for a while, thinking about various things, when I here Bianca's voice call; "Hello fratellino. I am sorry I did not come sooner. Will you please excuse me? Mama had just wondered off to make sure Uncle Alessio was alright, and hadn't gotten himself into any trouble."
     I looked up, and smiled when I saw her, but again, a pang of guilt ruined my happiness to see her. It didn't help when I noticed mama float in. I knew it was just a silly dream, but I still feel hurt by the dream lady's words, which made me feel a little nervous.
     Mama, as if sensing this, came over to me, and took my face in her hands.
     "My child, tell me what has wounded you so I may help you heal."
     I stared into her eyes, remembering the ones from the dream. They were harsh, and filled with hate, while these here were chocolate orbs full of love and compassion.
     "I just..." I sighed, trying to find words. "It was just a dream." I mumble.
      "And what happened in this dream, is mio bel bambino?"
     Bianca looked at me concerned, and I knew I couldn't lie to them. I took a deep breath, then recounted my dream.
     At the end, I could see tears brimming my ghostly mothers eyes, and Bianca stared at me in disbelief.
     "Il mio povero bambino, mon avrei mai detto una cosa del genere! Tu sei mio figlio, in modo da non mai pensato in quel modo. Ti amo il mio bambino!"
     My poor child, I would never say such a thing! You are my son, so don't ever think like that. I love you my child!
     Her words sounded genuine, and felt that way. I hope they were. I look at Bianca. She doesn't say anything. Just gives me a hug, and kisses my forehead.
     Mama joins in and wraps her arms tightly around both of us. We stayed like that for I don't know how long, but it felt good to have some kind of affection felt towards me since all I had, had was hate for many years.
     Eventually, a knock on the door was heard, and the panel slid open.
     "Dinner." John grumbled.
     The door quickly opened and a plate of that same slop from earlier was slid in.
     I looked back to where Bianca and mama had stood when the door had been knocked on, but they had disappeared. I sighed, as the door slammed shut, and crawled over to where the plate was.
     Nearly puking several times, out of disgust, and not usually eating this much, I finished my plate and put by the door, then lay on my bed.
     Did I really need to be here? Was I really mentally ill? So many questions who's answers are all just opinions. I wonder what other patients have, and if they are any worse than me. I wonder if any of them had a sister murdered right in front of them, if any of them had an abusive father and a self-centered stepmother. I wonder if they wish they weren't so lonely.
     Falling asleep with these thoughts in my mind, I wondered if I'd ever meet anyone to heal me, or if I would be stuck with no one for forever. If someone were destined to heal me, who would they be, and why would they want to help someone as lost as me?
     I hope I'm not stuck here forever. I guess someone would be nice to have, other than my own thoughts. That makes for pretty one sided conversations. I hope I'm not alone forever.
     As I drift into sleep, I remember thinking; "This is the most sleep I've gotten in a while."
   Unfortunately, this sleep wasn't the dreamless slumber I was hoping for.

AN: Hey guys! How was that? I know the ending was repetitive, but it's the best I could do. I feel proud of the nightmare I conjured up for Nico. Do you like it? Is there anything I could work on? And does anyone get why Nico named that nurse dude, "John"? Comment if you do! Your all so quiet!

     I love all of you guys to bits! And don't worry, next chapter gets MUCH netter! Once you see the title, you'll know why! 😆

     Anyhoodles, I enjoy writing this fanfic, so I hope I'm describing everything alright! Love y'all! Until next time, my Dumpling Children! 😉

Word count: 2,470 words.