Matteo Vitiello POV:
The decrepit Greyhound bus rattled violently over the cracked asphalt of the interstate highway.
The air inside the cabin was thick, smelling heavily of stale sweat, cheap tobacco, and urine from the broken toilet in the back. I used to fly in private jets with leather seats and crystal glasses. Now, I was shoved into the narrowest, dirtiest row at the back of a metal tube.
I pushed Luca into the window seat, letting him press his face against the glass. I took the aisle seat.
My right leg screamed in agony. The cheap plastic socket of the prosthetic was too tight. The constant vibration of the bus rubbed the hard plastic against my raw stump. I could feel the warm, sticky blood seeping through my torn pants, pooling in the socket.
The massive, tattooed man sitting in the row ahead of us turned around. His nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Hey, cripple," the man barked. "You smell like a rotting corpse. Cover that shit up."
I immediately ducked my head, staring at my dirty shoes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I whispered rapidly. I didn't dare look him in the eye.
Suddenly, Luca pointed out the window at a herd of cows in a passing field. He clapped his hands and let out a loud, shrill laugh.
The tattooed man stood up, his face turning red. "Shut that retard up right now, or I'm gonna smash his face in."
Panic spiked in my chest. I threw my upper body across the seats, shielding Luca entirely with my own back. "Please," I begged, my voice trembling. "He doesn't know any better. I'm sorry. Please don't hurt him."
The man sneered. He leaned over the seat and spat a thick wad of saliva directly onto the side of my face. He sat back down, cursing under his breath.
I didn't move. I slowly reached up and wiped the warm spit off my cheek with my dirty sleeve. I pulled Luca tighter against my chest, burying my face in his unwashed hair.
***
Hours later, the bus pulled into a desolate highway rest stop in Ohio. Rain lashed against the windshield.
The driver stood up and yelled, "Fifteen minutes! If you're not back, I'm leaving you here."
I grabbed Luca's hand and dragged my stiff, agonizing leg down the steps. I needed to clean the wound.
Inside the filthy public restroom, I leaned over the sink. I took off the bloody plastic leg. I turned on the faucet and splashed freezing water directly onto the open flesh of my stump. The pain was so sharp my vision went totally white. I bit my tongue to stop from screaming, cold sweat pouring down my back.
When I finally strapped the leg back on and stumbled out of the restroom, my heart stopped.
The spot by the door was empty. Luca was gone.
"Luca!" I shouted, my voice cracking. I limped frantically across the wet pavement.
I found him standing outside the glowing windows of the convenience store, staring blankly at the hot dogs spinning on the grill.
I let out a massive breath of relief and grabbed his arm. But Luca suddenly burst into hysterical tears. He pointed at his empty hands.
His teddy bear was missing. It was the only thing that kept him quiet, the only piece of comfort he had left in this world.
I spun around, scanning the dark parking lot. Near the gas pumps, three teenage punks in hoodies were laughing. One of them was kicking Luca's dirty teddy bear back and forth like a soccer ball.
I limped toward them as fast as my broken body would allow. "Please," I gasped. "Give it back. It's his."
The teenagers looked at me, laughing harder at my ruined face and dragging leg.
"Fetch, cripple," the tallest one sneered.
He kicked the bear hard. It flew through the air and landed straight inside a massive metal slop bin behind the restaurant.
The teenagers whistled and walked away into the darkness.
In the distance, the Greyhound bus blasted its loud air horn. The engine roared. It was leaving.
I didn't hesitate. I threw myself at the slop bin. I leaned over the edge and plunged my entire upper body into the foul sludge. It was filled with thick black motor oil, rotting food, and maggots. The stench of decay filled my nose, making my stomach heave violently.
I dug my hands through the slimy grease. My fingers closed around the soaked, heavy fabric of the bear.
I yanked it out, dripping with black oil and vomit. I turned and ran. Every step on my prosthetic sent shockwaves of blinding pain up my spine. I grabbed Luca by the shirt and dragged him toward the bus.
As the pneumatic doors began to hiss shut, I threw Luca inside and dived onto the rubber steps. The doors closed, trapping my coat, but we were in.
The passengers erupted in disgusted shouts at the horrific smell of the oil and garbage covering me.
I ignored them. I crawled up the steps and shoved the stinking, oil-soaked bear into Luca's hands. He hugged it tightly, smiling.
I collapsed onto the cold, vibrating floor of the bus. I pressed my cheek against the dirty metal. Tears leaked from my eyes, mixing with the mud and oil on my face.
"As long as I can see her, all of this is worth it."
