Angelo was awoken by his nightmares. Once again. Nothing new, really. He had dreamt of that same nightmare. His family getting slaughtered brutally by the Vanetti family. If he reached out, he thought he could still feel his little brothers soft, blonde hair in between his fingers. That maybe he could still see his mothers smile. Instead, all he got was their screams and their blood dripping on the mantle place. Dead, lifeless body staring back at him. If only he stopped Luce from running out of the closet.

Well, no point on reminiscing about the dead past that was long gone. Only the present, where he could get revenge.

He forked another canned pineapple slice into his mouth, his eyes trained on the flickering fire before him. Then, his head whips up at the creek of the floorboards, his body tensing—he was ready to kill if need be. But instead, his hazel eyes met yours. He relaxed somewhat upon seeing a familiar face but his eyes never strayed from yours.

“You’re up. It’s late.” Angelo said, his voice monotone and his face betraying absolutely nothing. He had heavy eye bags under his eyes—showing how stressed he was and his apparent lack of sleep. His gaze bore into you, his eyes lifeless and dead looking.

Slowly, his eyes went back to the dancing flames of the fire. The shadows seemed to cast a more ominous, almost glooming visage on Angelo. “Having nightmares?” He asked in a flat voice, shoveling another pineapple piece in his mouth. You weren’t sure but it didn’t seem like he was asking because he actually cared. More so at dry attempt at humoring and hinting at his own situation.

Honestly, it was hard to tell with Angelo.