Mafia Arranged Marriage

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Amren Valentino

There are distinct moments in time when you know for definite that you screwed up, screwed up majorly with no point in attempting to fix your actions, because sometimes, mistakes are irreversible.

For an example: when I was 11 and snuck into the house to play soccer, despite the fact I knew I wasn't allowed to inside, I was just young and stupid, so much that I knocked off mom's vase, gifted to her by my deceased grandparents. The vase I knew I could replace, or duplicate or whatever; but the sentimental value I could never make up for it.

Today, just like that day, my actions came to bite me off in the ass. I'm aware I should've told her the moment I got the chance to, but how could I when we started on the wrong foot in the first place.

I was afraid all the progress we've made since then will go down the drain, washing away all the good times for the sake of past mistakes.

But now, I know that nothing stays hidden, everything is bound to come to light, no matter how hard you pray it won't resurface; it always does. Out of nowhere to add that element of surprise to the already dripping wound.

I stagger like a wounded soldier would, to the bed, raking a seat to my flailing knees, making sure to keep a safe distance between us. In spite of the arrow it stabs the middle of my weak heart, her expression and body language signal for me to respect her personal space at the moment.

Her brown jewels are wide, like a deer waiting for an explanation from the hunter to explain the reason for the unjustified brutality. In this particular second I deem myself unworthy of her, all her kindness is nothing but lethal, dooming even.

"Ren?" She whispers for me with trembling lips, waiting for my due explanation. I take a huge gulp of air, not knowing where to start.

Her eyes graze me, penetrating the walls to my heart, squeezing that arrow, twisting it further in my chest and I wince at the pain. But then remember if that's what I'm feeling, I can't possibly imagine how she's feeling right now.

"To start it off, it happened 7 years ago. I was 20 going 21. So young and I was eager to integrate myself in my father's world. To carve my own path in the underworld" I start off, my mind going back to years ago when I decided at the ripe age of twenty, that I was ready to take over the mafia.

"Stupid ambitious me thought I was all powerful and ready to take on the mafia. My father never said otherwise, although thinking back, I would say he definitely didn't think I was ready; hell even I don't think I was, looking back at it"

I recall entering my father's office frantically, demanding to take over the mafia, blabbering on about how it was the time, how I was responsible enough for it.

"After I went and told my dad, he didn't deny me, nor granted me with my wish. He presented me with a challenge. A task. Said if I succeeded then he would gladly step aside and hand me the mafia"

She stays quiet, absorbing every word I'm telling. A stray piece of hair dangles in front of her face, I want to tuck it behind her ear, maybe my knuckles brushing her cheek in the process; accidentally. 

I curse my mind at the thoughts I'm having and go on with telling the story.

"There was a high profile event happening that weekend. He told me about an assassination attempt they're planning on carrying out. It was some old man from the Russian mafia" I remember the majority of my teenage years cursing out Slender-man, a Russian clientele whom kept sabotaging business for my dad, back when the rivalry was at its peak. Obviously, my dad wanted to get rid of him, so he appointed me responsible for this special mission.

"I can't even remember what the event was; some fine art gallery or a bullshit cover like that. People from all different mafias were invited, which made the whole thing more risky. Nonetheless, I was persistent that after finally figuring out Slender-man's identity and confirming he was in fact coming to the event, I would be the one to end it all".

She nods her head in understanding, born and raised in the mafia, she's mo stranger to what happens. All the bloodshed, the massacres.

"Ling story short, our cover was blown, we were caught in fire exchanging, everyone there a hostage to the circumstance. Your mom was one of the attendees.." I gulp the bile in my throat for the words I'm about to say next.

"She was there, with a lot of innocent people who had nothing to do with it, and in the heated fire, a stray bullet of my gun hit her in the chest unintentionally" I croak out, my eyes glazing over the memories. I took a life of an innocent person. I was used to killing people, people who killed and did such horrible things, such as myself. But that was the first and last time I took an innocent life. The guilt still following me to this day, a looming shadow stalking me.

I stare ahead of me, my hands twiddling, awaiting for the screams and kicks and slaps I know I'm deserving of. But nothing comes, except for the shrilling silence pricking at my heart and I turn my head -fearfully, might I add- engaging her reaction. Why wasn't she shouting at the top of her lungs? Why am I still intact?

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A/n:
Fucking Ivan and the Russian mafia.
Shows up everywhere.
SMH
Little teaser (we're not done
with all the confessions
and guilt yet. Xoxo)