Chapter 2 – Three Weeks Later
AIDA
THREE WEEKS LATER
He hates me. The boy. Dad calls him Matteo.
He’s been locked in a bedroom we never use upstairs while he gets better. One of Daddy’s men is always there with a gun, probably guarding him to make sure no one hurts him. But it’s not like me or Ms. Greco would.
Whenever the doctor comes by to check on him or when Ms. Greco brings him food, I follow.
I tried to talk to him, but he just glared at me like I’m the one who hurt him.
I even brought him some books to read, and he threw them rather unkindly on the floor.
He’s probably just sad he can’t be with his family.
“I want to go home!” Matteo shouts at my father as I quietly tiptoe up the stairs to listen better, crossing the hall and hiding around the corner of the bedroom. There’s no one up here but my dad, which is a good thing, or one of his men would catch me and tell.
“That’s not possible, I’m afraid, kid. There’s no one there.”
“Yes, there is! My dad, my brothers. They will be looking for me.”
“Yeah, sorry to be the one to tell you this, but they won’t be. See, your daddy is dead. I made sure of it when we shot him after shooting you.”
My eyes bulge, and I quickly cover the gasp from my mouth. And there, in the silence, the boy cries so loud it breaks my heart.
My dad shot Matteo? Killed his daddy? Why? How could he shoot anyone, especially a kid like me? What’s wrong with him?
“Di-did you kill my brothers too?” His voice sounds crushed, and I’m hurting right along with him.
“Oh no, they’re very much alive, but they want nothing to do with you. I actually cut them a deal. They told me I can keep you in exchange for not hurting them. They’re long gone by now, kid. Far away from here. You’re on your own.”
Matteo sniffles. “I don’t believe you. My brothers love me.”
“I guess they love themselves more.”
“No! Let me go! I need to find them!” he cries on a shout.
“I’d calm down if I were you, kid, or I’ll gag you.”
But he only screams harder. “They want me back! You’re a liar!”
“I don’t give a fuck what some eight-year-old punk thinks. I’m your new family, so you better get used to it. You have no one else left.”
My father’s evil laughter does nothing to block the sound of the boy’s sobs, loud enough to crack the walls between us.
MATTEO - AGE 8
The pillow is wet under my face as I remember what happened. My dad can’t be dead.
No, Daddy. Please. You have to be alive. You can’t leave me like Mommy did! You can’t leave me here.
Inside, my chest hurts like I’m being punched. Why did these men hurt my dad? He never did anything to anyone. He was always nice to all the people who came to the store.
And what that man said about my brothers, it can’t be true. They’ll find me. They won’t give up. Maybe I could send them a message somehow.
But I don’t know where I am or who these people are. I just want to get out of here. But everywhere I look, there’s someone watching me.
Agnelo, that bad man, left after he told me about Dad and my brothers. They would never just let these strangers have me. Maybe he hurt them like Daddy.
I remember the bad man. I remember the others too. There were four of them the morning they took us from the bakery. Dad and I were there very early. He was setting up everything before people started coming in.
He wasn’t going to take me that day, but I begged to come. My brothers were always saying I was annoying, so I wanted to be with my dad instead of them.
But then those men knocked on the door and nothing was the same again.
“Matteo, could you hand me that box next to you?” Dad asks, putting out some cupcakes on a round plate
I hop off the stool, pick it up from the counter, and bring it to him. “That looks so yummy! Could I have one?” I look at the chocolate Oreo cupcakes and wish Dad would let me have one for breakfast.
“Maybe after lunch,” he says, ruffling my hair as he takes the box from me.
“Fiiine!” I go back to the chair so I can look at my comic book. As I try to get back on the chair, I slip, the chair collapsing on top of me when I fall on my behind.
“Ow!”
“You okay?” Dad rushes over, lifting the chair off me and helping me up.
“I think so.” I rub my cheek where I got hurt.
“Let’s go sit on the couch instead.” Dad places a hand on my shoulder, and we walk side by side.
“Hello, anyone home?” someone calls from outside, knocking really loud.
My dad stops moving, and when I look up at him, his eyes are round and huge.
“Who’s that, Dad?”
“Shh!” he warns, his chest moving up and down real fast. And that’s when I become super scared, too.
“Francesco, yoo-hoo!” There’s another loud knock, but more like a bang this time. “I know you’re in there. Open up before we break the door down and cause a scene you don’t want.”
My body jerks as I inhale, my heartbeats pounding hard. We can’t see the men from here. The shutters are still closed since Dad used a key in the back door.
“Matteo.” Dad kneels, gripping my shoulders. “I need you to hide. Go in the back and hide in the closet until they leave. Do you hear me? Don’t come out for anything. And I mean nothing.”
“No. Daddy. Y-you can come with me. We can go together. P-please.” I sniffle, panting while my heart squeezes.
He shakes his head, his eyes full of tears. “I can’t, son. They’ll come for me. But they don’t know you’re here and we’re going to make sure of that. So go now, and remember”—he holds me tighter—“no matter what you hear, no matter what they do to me, you don’t come out.”
“No,” I sob in a whisper, shaking my head, not wanting to go. He has to come with me.
“You have on the count of three before we start breaking things.”
Oh no.
I tremble.
“I love you, son. Never forget that.”
“Daddy?” The tears fall down my cheeks, and when he stands, they only come faster.
He smiles weakly. “You remind me of your mother. Every single day she’s been gone.” He’s crying harder. His tears stay in his eyes, filling them, until there’s nowhere else to go but down.
“I can’t go,” I wail, wrapping my arms around his belly, holding tight. “Please, don’t make me.”
“Hello!” I jerk as one of the men bangs hard on the shutters. “We’re getting impatient.”
Dad pushes me away by my arms, placing his palm over my cheek, staring down at me. “Matteo. Listen to me.” His voice is urgent. Fast. “They’re very bad men. They’ll hurt you, and I’d die twice before I let that happen. Please, you have to go in that closet. Do it for me. Your brothers need you.”
Boom.
“Oh God,” Dad gasps. “They’re breaking the back door. Go. Now!”
My hands shake as he lets me go. “I love you, Daddy.” I snivel, my body shuddering.
“I love you, son. So much. Tell your brothers I love them too, okay?” He closes his eyes and I look at him once again. His tears come even faster.
Boom.
This time, I rush to the back, leaving my dad, running into the closet and shutting the door just as something hard bangs from the outside, then footsteps march in. So many of them.
“Ahh, there he is,” a man says, and then my dad makes a noise like someone hurt him. They keep hitting him I think because he screams for them to stop, the men cursing at him as he grumbles.
He sounds so bad. I have to do something. Maybe if they see I’m here, they’ll leave. But Dad said not to come out, no matter what.
Glass shatters with a heavy thud. “You thought you could fuck my wife and I wouldn’t know?
That you’re gonna help her and my daughter run away from me and I’d let that stand?
You never learn, do you? I took your wife from you, and now, I’m taking your whole family.
You’ll pay for this,” the man says, and my dad screams like he’s hurt.
Oh my God, what are they doing to him?
“You thought you could get away with it? From me!” He shouts so loud, I shiver, something warm dripping down the inside of my leg.
Things continue to break across the floor while my father begs them to stop. But they don’t. They hit him harder as he groans in pain.
“Give me the bat,” another voice says.
“No! Please!”
“You won’t die. Not here.”
My hands are moving before I could stop myself. Daddy will be mad, but I have to help him. I can’t let these people keep hitting him.
Carefully, I push the door open, my teeth clattering, my fingers shaking as I walk out, step by step, scared more than I ever was. Not even when Benny from school said he’d punch me if I sat next to Laura.
“There’s someone back there, Faro.”
I pull in a breath, my eyes practically falling out. I stop, wanting to run back into the closet, but it’s too late. My pulse hammers as footsteps thump in a hurry until a man with black hair stands in front of me, a nasty smile on his ugly face.
“Look who we’ve got back here.”
“Get away from me!” He’s on me in a second, grabbing my arm hard while I try to get it off me. But he’s too strong.
“Please, Faro, let him go. He’s just a child,” my dad begs from the other side.
“Let me go, you animal.” I punch him with my other hand, but he only laughs as he drags me out where my dad is on his knees, blood coming out from his eyebrow and bottom lip.
“Your son’s got a mouth on him, Francesco.” The man yanks harder as I come to stand in front of Dad. “You let him talk like that?”
“He’s a good boy, Faro,” Dad sobs. I’ve never seen him like this. “Let him go. He’s done nothing.”
“Maybe not.” One of the men guarding the door gives Faro a bat. “But you have.” Raising the bat, he smashes it into my dad’s head until he falls.
“No!” I yell so loud, hoping someone hears me. “Daddy, wake up!” But he doesn’t, even as someone else throws him over his shoulder. “Where are you taking him? Put him down!”
“Shut the hell up.” Faro closes my mouth with his palm while I kick his leg and bite his hand.
“You fucking little shit!” he shouts, slapping my cheek. I give him my meanest face. I won’t cry.
He glances at another man to his right. “Give me the tape, Benvolio.” When the other jerk tosses it to him, he cuts some off with his teeth.
“Get away from me.” I back up a step.
“Where do you think you’ll go?” They all circle me. “There’s four of us and one of you.” He chuckles.
Suddenly, someone grabs my shoulders from behind, keeping me in one place while Faro puts the tape on my mouth and lifts me in the air.
He brings me out the back door while I scream through the tape, punching his back, doing what I can.
But I’m not strong enough. They toss my dad inside an SUV and then I’m next, thrown in beside him.
One of the men sits behind us while another is next to me, staring like he’s trying to scare me.
It’s working.
“Wakey, wakey.” Faro smacks Dad’s face with a flashlight as he mumbles, both of us on our knees in a cold, dark place.
I sniffle, sobbing hard, unable to move my hands tied behind me. Dad’s bound too.
I want to go home. I want my brothers. I want Daddy to be okay.
Please, Daddy, wake up. Get us out of here.
“Maybe I should kill your son now. I think that’ll wake you up.” Faro lifts his gun, pointing it at me. My whole body shakes as the weapon nears my forehead.
Daddy, you have to open your eyes! Please!
But with the tape around my mouth all he’d hear is mumbling.
I don’t want to die. I try to scream. But it’s no use. He can’t hear me.
“Mmm,” he suddenly groans, his eyelids fluttering, tape around his mouth too, then his eyes jump to me and to the men.
I scream, rocking on my knees, trying to get closer to him, but I can’t. My legs hurt too much.
“Ahh, he’s risen.” Faro rips the tape off his mouth. “Finally, I’ll get to hear you beg for your son’s life before I kill you both.” Abruptly, Faro whips his head in another direction. “You hear something?” he asks his friends.
“It’s that damn pipe, I’m tellin’ you,” another guy says. “Fuckin’ annoyin’.”
The flashlight jumps back to our faces, and I close my eyes to stop it from hurting.
“It’s okay, Matteo. Daddy’s here.” His voice trembles, and when I’m able to peer at him, his tears are falling fast.
“Daddy won’t be able to do shit for you, kid,” Faro says with a scary laugh.
I want to go home. Please.
I fall facedown on the floor, crying for someone to help us, but no one comes. No one even knows we’re here.
“Please, Faro. Please don’t hurt the boy. He did nothing wrong,” my father wails. “You can do what you want to me but leave him out of it. He’s innocent.”
Faro chuckles like one of those villains in the comics I read. “The mistakes of the father always come back on the son, Francesco. You should know that. Say goodbye to your son before it’s too late.”
Goodbye? Where am I going? I breathe so hard, my chest hurts, my stomach queasy, prickles all over my arms.
“N-no. No. Please no,” Dad screams, moving his legs to get close to me, leaning over my shoulder, both of us crying.
“It’s okay, Matteo. It’s okay. Shh.” But the more I look at Dad, the more I cry, the more I want to hug him. To let him kiss me on the forehead like he does.
“Want me to do it?” another man asks.
But I ignore them as my dad whispers with a cry, “I love you for always.” He fights so hard to smile, to finish saying what he tells me and my brothers every night before we go to bed.
And forever after that. I say it for him, even though he can’t hear it, even as the man raises a gun, pointing it at me.
“Don’t look, okay, son?” Dad tells me. “Ju-just look at me and close your eyes.” His voice breaks with a sob.
“I love you, my boy. You hear me? Papa’s sorry. I love—”
Pop.