Chapter 15
Every time I leave this house lately, I don’t want to go. I used to like the car rides to that warehouse, the sun, the world almost at my fingertips, but I no longer look forward to them.
I’d rather stay back home with Aida and Robby. It’s like having a family again, as fucked up as that family is.
I know she hates when I go. The worry stitches up her face like it’s visible, for everyone to see. She asks about my bloodied knuckles when I return, and I don’t tell her how I got them. I can’t. What will she think of me when she finds out I not only hurt people, but I kill them too?
I’ve killed more in my young life than grown men have killed in a lifetime. I don’t dwell on it anymore. If I did, it’d haunt me. I have to bottle it up. Keep it contained. Or it’ll explode and send me straight to hell.
I shut my eyes as the SUV rolls over the bend in the road, remembering her lips, that smile of hers lighting up my world like it could burn every awful thing to the ground.
She keeps wanting us to sleep together, but how could we? Even if there was a chance we wouldn’t get caught, I won’t touch her chained up against the radiator, on the ratty mattress they call a bed, with my piss bucket right there.
She deserves more. I’ve told her that countless times and she tells me she’s right where she’s supposed to be.
But that’s a lie. She deserves a guy who could take her out, give her flowers, go to a restaurant.
I distantly remember those places exist, and she’s told me about the world.
Every part of it. I want her to experience it all one day, with or without me.
No matter how badly I wish she’d forget me, I hate the thought of her with someone else, making a future that doesn’t include me.
I’ve begged her to run away with Robby countless times, to find someone to protect her in the ways I can’t. But she continues to reject the thought, saying if the tables were turned, I’d never abandon her. And sure, she’s right, but this isn’t about me. I don’t care what happens to me.
The vehicle comes to a stop and the driver I don’t know gets out, Stan in the passenger side. Drew, who’s been seated beside me, pulls me out by my arm. They don’t bother tying me up. They know I’d never run, not when it puts Aida in danger.
We march inside, me next to Stan, Drew and the driver behind us. The warehouse is dark until Stan pulls on the overhead string, illuminating the space that may as well be my second home.
Someone drags multiple chairs in, the whimpers coming from them heavy as though they’ve realized their time on this planet is about to come to an end. By me. I’m always the one doing the killing, while the others stand around and watch.
My heart is no longer my own. It’s been corrupted by the chains that have been branded on my soul. I can’t erase what’s been done. I can’t hide from it. I am what I am now. A killer. A man with no future. A boy with no past.
I walk up as the chairs are finally before me. At first, I don’t understand… Why is there a kid in one of them?
I glance back at Stan, who nods, stretching out his hand with a blade in it. Not a gun, a fucking knife. He wants me to gut a little kid, who’s probably no more than twelve.
I eye the boy, seconds drifting by, his brows huddled tight, his snivels louder, those eyes green like Dom and Enzo’s. I run a hand down my face.
I can’t do it.
I’m not that far gone. Not animal enough to end a kid.
The man beside him screams through the gag in his mouth, shaking his head, the chair clattering. I can only assume it’s his father.
“Take the fucking knife!” Stan hollers.
But I could barely move, legs buried in concrete while I continue looking at the boy, not sure how I could get him out of this.
His small chest jumps every time I move, and he stares right at me. I think of Robby in that moment. Is that what his life will be like? Either becoming a murderer or being murdered?
My stomach stirs.
“You have one more chance to do this,” Stan grits, slithering closer, a hand clasping my shoulder so roughly, I want to rip his entire arm off.
Every second that passes is as heavy as eternity.
“It’s okay, Stan.” A voice I hate with every fiber spills throughout the room. “I know what’ll motivate our boy.” Agnelo arrives from the shadows like a demon you don’t see until it’s too late.
He drags his phone out of his pocket. “I can call one of my men right now and have him throw Aida in the car and let her get ripped apart at the club. Is that what you want?”
“Fuck you!” I roar, coming at him, face-to-face. “Fuck you to hell! She’d never want a kid to die just to save herself! That’s one thing you’ll never have in common with your daughter. A conscience.”
But I don’t know how I could refuse when there’s a chance he means what he says. How could I let that happen?
His punch to my jaw comes quick, and my fist lands square into his eye before the men have a chance to hold me back.
Damn, that felt good.
“Fucking motherfucker!” he bellows, rubbing where I hit. Stan and another grip my arms behind my back as I fight their clutches, snarling at Agnelo like a beast.
“You’re gonna regret this, you ungrateful little shit.
Your whole fucking family is a bunch of ungrateful bastards, starting with that father of yours.
” He removes his blazer, throwing it to another guy, rolling up his sleeves.
“I should’ve sent you to the club from the beginning.
I’d never have to look”—he slams his fist to my cheek—“into”—he lands another hard hit to my nose as it starts to bleed—“your damn face again.” He punches me in the jaw this time.
“But I let you live in my fucking house while you ate my food!”
I don’t react, my eyes on his as he hits me, again, then again, until the raw pain blends with the roaring of my skin. I can still see, but it’s blurred, my cheeks swelling right under my eyes.
The boy looks at me, gaping, his body trembling as another hit comes to my stomach. He cries heavy now, and his father does too.
“String him up,” Agnelo demands, his voice even. I’m being dragged by my shirt, my sneakers squeaking against the floor.
At first, I have no idea what he’s talking about, not until seconds later when Stan and Drew remove my shirt and lift me up in the air, tying my wrists together.
Then I’m raised in the air, feet dangling. The pain to my wrists comes rough, and I groan, peering up, seeing the metal beam where the rope is attached.
Will it hold me? Could I escape?
“You think you have choices here?” Agnelo asks, standing a couple feet from me as I zap my eyes to him. “You’re nothing. I’m gonna show you what you’re worth.”
His belt comes off, clinking in the silence, the quiet heavy, and I know what’s coming, I know what he’ll do before the first whip hits my back. But I’ll take it. All day. As long as he leaves her alone. As long as he doesn’t send her to that horrible place.
Blow after blow, my flesh tears as he slashes it with the heavy whip of his belt. But I don’t make a sound. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
She appears before my eyes, her face, her smile, the feel of her lips on mine, her hands in my hair.
I hold on to her—our love, her beauty. I don’t stop thinking about her even as he removes the pistol from his waistband, aiming it at the boy in the chair.
Not even when he shoots him in the head, his father’s muffled screams reminding me of my dad’s the day they killed him.
Once the father goes too, they all walk out, and I’m bathed in true silence. I’m alone now, drops of crimson leaking onto the floor, tormenting pain on every inch of my body, not knowing if I’ll survive it.
I’m sorry, Aida. I love you. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
AIDA - AGE 20
I haven’t told a soul, but I’ve been having nightmares. A lot of them. I can’t explain them all. Sometimes I’m alone in a dark, empty place with no end. I just keep running, screaming for help, trying to find a way out. But it never comes.
Other times, there’s a woman, her hair long and blonde, her features not so clear, like she’s been blurred.
But her hand reaches for mine, and she asks me to come with her.
But fear envelops me and I don’t go. She pleads with me, saying my name.
When I ask her who she is, she just disappears.
Then I wake up, sweat drenching my forehead and my back, breathing heavy, trying to remember every detail of that woman.
But it never comes until I see her again the next night.
“Are you okay?” Robby asks, patting my knee as we sit beside one another, me with a book in hand. I realized I had stopped reading, consumed by thoughts of my nightmares.
Clearing my throat, I try to push them away. “I’m fi—”
The door flies open as we startle, my father’s heavy stomping coming toward me. “Get dressed.” He throws a bag on the floor, looking irate, his forehead wrinkled with rage-filled lines.
“What?” I sit up straighter. “I am dressed.”
“Put the dress on,” he grits. “The one in the bag.”
Ms. Greco walks in, wiping her hands on the apron as she looks questioningly at him.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Where’s Matteo?” An eerie feeling in my gut tells me something is wrong. It’s been hours. He should’ve been back already. But I was so distracted with Robby, I hadn’t looked up at the clock until now.
“Put the fucking dress on!” he screams so loud, Robby runs under the table, like he does every time my father loses his temper.
“What’s happening?” Ms. Greco’s voice shivers. She’s afraid of him just as much as I am, but her worry for me shrouds the need for her own safety.
“Are you questioning me?” He rushes up to her in an instant, roughly yanking her hair with a snarl. “You’re gonna shut the fuck up and stay here to watch Robby. Don’t piss me off.”
He drops the hand away as I glance at her, my brows furrowing, fear settling like a plague in my stomach, curling with a rotting taste of my demise.
“Pick the bag up and go change,” he snarls. “We’re leaving.”
“Leaving where?”
“Go. Or your boyfriend dies.”
I gasp, quickly standing up, grabbing the bag. “What have you done to him?”
“Nothing he didn’t deserve. Now, if you want him to stay alive, I suggest you hurry.”
Oh my God, what has he done to Matteo!
Before going upstairs to change, I rush over to Robby, kneeling as he trembles, his arms tucked around his knees. “Hey, buddy. I gotta go for a little bit, but Ms. Greco will be here with you, okay?”
His body only shakes, his lips quivering.
“I love you,” I muster with a smile.
“I love you too.” Tears gather in the powder blues of his eyes.
I quickly stand, my throat aching from the onslaught of my own emotions, not wanting Robby to see it. My heart tightens, not knowing if I’ll see him again.
Who knows what my father has planned for me? With him, it’s impossible to say. But if Matteo needs me, then I’ll do anything I can to save him.
Rushing upstairs, I quickly remove my clothes, taking out the dress from the bag, but when I see it, my eyes expand.
It’s black and short, shorter than I’d ever wear.
There’s another box inside and I open it, finding black strappy heels.
Not too high, but enough for me to fall in.
I have never worn heels. Where could I be going?
I slip on the dress, pulling it as far down as it’ll go, making sure it covers me, my face burning crimson from the discomfort of being in something this revealing.
Lowering onto the bed, I fumble as I try to get the shoes on, unable to strap them on right away. Once I do, I attempt to stand normally, feeling as though I’ll tumble if I take a step.
But I try, prodding around the room, practicing for a bit. I’m not that tall, but these make me feel like I’m on top of the world. Is that why Ms. Greco likes heels so much?
“Let’s go!” My father’s bellowing comes loud and clear. With a long breath, I come out and close the door behind me.
Carefully, I hold on to the banister for dear life and clack my way downstairs.
My father is there waiting with a cruel smile. “You could’ve brushed your hair, but it’ll do.” His gaze assesses me from top to bottom, and I suddenly have the urge to hide. That’s not how a father should look at his own daughter. My stomach flips, taking my heart with it.
Ms. Greco gasps as she makes it to us, Robby slinked over her shoulder. The sudden panic on her face sends a shiver down my spine. “Agnelo, no. You can’t do this to her.” She gapes, begging him for something I don’t understand.
But his eyes, the devil in them, they don’t leave me. I feel naked all over, like I’m wearing nothing at all.
“I can do anything I want.” His gaze finally narrows to her. “I’m damn sick of you telling me what the hell to do. I should kill you and that kid, right here right now.”
“No!” A gasping inhale flies out of me. “Let’s just go.” I don’t care what he does to me as long as they’re all safe.
He snickers before giving her his back. With one final look at her, her face drowning in sorrow, she mouths I’m sorry, before I’m out the door.
I know, wherever I’m going, it won’t be good.
At all.