Prologue #2
I don’t want to be the devil. A voice inside me, that’s clinging to my unloved heart whispers—the light. Dimming it by the second.
“Perhaps I should have Vector fuck her with the cattle prod again until she begs for her life to end.” My father chuckles. “Would that appease you, son?” He sneers, and I’m certain my hesitance has pissed him off.
Holding the gun higher, I sense everyone’s focus on me.
My pulse races, my knees quiver, and sweat runs down my spine as I battle the urge to cry with my finger on the trigger and my gaze locked on my mother.
My beautiful, helpless mother. Her usually bright eyes are dull and full of fear.
Blood streaks her face, along with other substances no ten-year-old should be familiar with, and I want nothing more than to wash it all away, to bathe her and cleanse her of her pain, to wipe away the dirt the same way she has done for me.
I remain locked in place as memories of our time spent together slip by with each ragged breath I take.
The way her soft hands would cup my face when she spoke to me, and the way she would wrap her arms around me to greet me, and on the odd nights we were allowed contact, she would read me a bedtime story.
But I didn’t miss how our father was in the shadows, glaring over her shoulder like the grim reaper, waiting to take her soul. Or was it mine he wanted to crush?
He was always there, waiting.
My mind flashes back to a memory of one of those times. One I’ve played over and over again, unable to make sense of it.
“Azrael, I’m so proud of you. Nonna said you’ve been baking, but wow, look at these!” my mother exclaims. Her green eyes sparkle, and I push my chest out with as much pride an eight-year-old can muster.
“We made cookies.” My cheeks heat. Whenever I have my mother’s attention on me, I become nervous.
Mainly because I want her to be proud of me and smile the way she does, but also because my father will become angry at our interaction.
He’ll call us both horrible names and make my mother cry, and worse, he’ll hurt her, bad.
“They’re for you,” I tack on, shifting from foot to foot, and when she embraces me, I remain stoically still.
The warmth of her touch rushes through me and ignites something unfamiliar but not unwanted inside me, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I welcome my mother’s gentle touch.
“What the fuck is this?” His demonic bellow sends a tremor of fear skittering down my spine. She steps away from me, and I miss her touch immediately. For some odd reason, I want to clutch her hand with mine. She moves in front of me, and that only angers him further. She should know this already.
“I was just telling Azrael the cookies smell good,” she whispers, and even I hear the uncertainty in her voice.
Does she really think they smell good? She sounds unsure.
I glance over my shoulder to see them. They look good and smell good too.
“You’re trying to make my son a fucking pansy!” he roars, and slaps her across the face, causing her head to snap to the side and forcing her to cry out.
When he grabs her by her hair and throws her to the floor with a blood-curdling thud, my heart plummets.
I remain frozen to the spot, knowing only too well that anything I do to aide her will not go down well.
Last time, I had my hand in a cast for months but still had to participate in boxing class despite it setting my recovery back.
He swipes his arm across the counter and pushes the tray of cookies onto the floor. The tray clatters and the cookies crumble, and a little part of me wishes I’d tasted one before he destroyed them.
Then, with a sadistic smile on his face, he steps on them, one by one, while I watch motionless and detached. The cookies dissolve beneath his ruthless step as he takes his time destroying each one so callously.
All Nonna’s and my hard work is being ground into the tiled floor, becoming dust as he delights in the action of grinding his shoe from side to side.
“Now I’m going to fuck you in this shit,”—he kicks out, sending a flurry of the crumbs into the air toward her face—“while our son feeds you like the dog you are,” he declares, and I hate the way my mother sobs on his words.
I hate the way her tears streak her pretty face when he makes the grunting noises I loathe, and the way my hand shakes as I bring the remnants of the cookie to her lips and push them inside her mouth.
Worst of all, I hate that Czar never got to witness the cookies or smell them. But I’ll tell him about them, and even if he doesn’t believe me, our mother knows the truth.
I made those cookies because today is my birthday, and we’ve never celebrated it. Not once.
Czar tsks and pulls my attention from our mother, then strides toward me with a scowl on his face and an air of confidence I lack. He draws the attention of the room toward him, allowing me the opportunity to swipe away the tear threatening to fall from the corner of my eye.
Before I have a chance to argue with him, he snatches the gun from my hand, aims it at our mother, and pulls the trigger.
The ringing in my ears doesn’t dilute the enormity of this action nor the gravity of my situation.
My younger brother stepped up and took control, honoring the name of the fierce lion bestowed upon him while relinquishing me from my demons.
As if in slow motion, our mother falls to the floor in a worthless heap.
Blood hits my pants, even my face is coated in her innocence, but I don’t so much as flinch, too stunned to move.
Our future is written.
Czar’s destiny confirmed.
As I stand here today, I know what my brother did, I can never repay. He took my demons and made them his own. He showed valor and compassion, an honor I will never recreate despite spending the rest of my life attempting to achieve.
Czar is worthy, but I still have mine to prove.
The room erupts into cheers, but I feel the eyes of my father on me with every beat of my heavy heart.
Czar turns his head to the side. He knows it too. Guilt swims in his eyes as he swallows heavily. He might have saved me from the torment that lives inside of me, but he also put me in the firing line. Our father needs an heir to be proud of, not a weak boy softened by emotions and, worse, women.
Czar’s act has rewritten our destiny, but that’s not something I’m prepared for, and truth be told, he’s not ready for it yet either.
As I watch our mother’s blood rush toward my feet like a river, emptiness fills my bloodstream. His actions has significantly changed our lives, and now I must forge a new path.
I exhale loudly, puffing my chest out, and stand taller than ever before.
In this moment, I may choose the darkness, but the light will always be a part of me.
It will remain dormant until I need it the most. One day, I will become the man I’ve always wanted to be, but for now, in order to survive, I will become the one expected of me.
I rush Czar, knocking him off his feet and onto the floor. Our father steps forward, but I don’t give him a chance to reprimand me. I grab the gun, spin on my perfectly polished heels, and race up the stairs.
My chest heaves, and I pant wildly as I come to a standstill in the kitchen. Nonna stands motionless, her back toward me, her head lowered.
Does she know I’m about to betray her?
I’m about to become heir to the Carrera name.
She lifts her head higher than normal. “I promise, Nonna.” I lift the gun and aim. This small act of mercy, I can grant her while keeping my father appeased. One day, his time will come, and I will be the man my nonna would be proud of.
But today, I will follow the path so brutally carved for me.
Blood splatters across the counter, the spray marring the walls, and her small body falls forward as heavy footsteps fill the room.
“I am the devil.” I turn and face my father, glaring at him head-on. “I am the Carrera family’s heir.” My shoulders broaden with feigned pride.
My father’s thick hand grasps my shoulder, and he releases a loud, heavy chuckle.
“The devil has risen!” he declares. “Let us celebrate!” He throws his hands toward his men, releasing me.
Loud cheers congratulate him, and his maniacal grin widens, and slowly, their excited voices drift into his office.
I remain staring at the one woman who always showed me compassion. The one woman who showed me love, and I destroyed it.
Coldness sweeps over me as the room fills with emptiness.
She’s gone.
Blood pools around her limp body, but it’s the brain matter that twists my stomach, and I hate myself for the mess I caused to her delicate body.
Maybe I can fix her.
“Nonna?” I whisper. Wetness gathers in my eyes, and my feet move before I can stop them.
“Nonna? Are you there?” I touch her arm, and she’s surprisingly warm.
“I won’t let you down, Nonna. I promise.
” Snot drips from my nose as I give her a gentle shake.
“I’ll be the man you want me to be. I promise. ”
“She’s dead,” Czar says from behind me.
“I know that!” I snap back, glaring over my shoulder at him. His face is pale, his teeth chatter, and he looks more broken than ever before.
Tonight will be a memory we will both be haunted by. Where evil knew no bounds and two boys became the brutal monsters they were created as.
A choked sound catches in my throat. “I killed her.” Pure self-loathing rises inside me, and I take note of her empty eyes—the spark in them gone forever.
The room closes in around me, and I hold my throat; it’s like a rope is tightening around my neck. I have an overwhelming urge to run, but knowing I can’t, I stumble outside into the garden, desperate for air. Desperate to breathe and expel my sins once and for all.
I can already smell the scent of their cigars and brandy as I open the patio door, and that only adds to my growing unraveling.
The cool air hits me, and like a magnet, I search the sky, finding the brightest light in the darkest of nights, and a lone tear slips down my face.
My chest heaves as I let out the sob I’ve been fighting to keep restrained, but I allow myself this moment because one thing is for sure, I won’t be allowed it again.
From this day forward, I will be what is expected of me.
I have to, otherwise my sins will be for nothing.
Her death will be for nothing, and I refuse to allow that.
My mother’s fate has come to fruition, her tumultuous life finally liberated from our living hell, and my nonna is gone by my own bloody hands. I’ve taken the first step into the life of a man I never wanted to be.
My hand trembles as I take the ring from my pocket, and with a promise I’m unsure I can keep, I slip it on my finger.
Then I stare at the light head-on. “I’m Azrael Carrera, the devil in the dark. This is my destiny.”