MARIANO
The drive back home was silent.
I stared out the window at the trees as we passed by, my mind wavering. The discussion with Carbone was an eye-opening one. And he had very good reason for wanting to eliminate my ex's father. I couldn't blame him and I couldn't be mad at him for wanting to burn them and everything they had to the ground. They had caused him so much anguish and it was past due time he took back what they had taken from him.
It's crazy how many things in this life we don't know. How many things are happening around us that we are unaware of and how we could unkowingly be connected to each other's nightmares turned reality.
Sometimes it's odd to think that each individual has had a different experience that they've lived. And how much pain, anger, hurt, fear, yearning or sorrow there is within each person. We can never truly know what lies beneath the masks tht peaple wear everyday.
There are times we think we know the truth or maybe even a fraction of it, but deception is a cunning thing. And the truth we think we know ends up being a complete lie. But the worst part is that this lie was never told to you, however, it was what you led yourself to believe.
The story of how my parents met was never told to me. In fact, it was never even spoken about, ever. But not in a million years would I had thought my mother was a victim of such a trecherous system. She was always positive, level-headed and emotionally unwavering. Maybe these things had to be learned from an early age to keep herself from falling apart. Pain can build and it can break. I'm grateful my mother never let the horrors of life destroy her. Instead, she took it and molded it. Weilding this pain as her weapon and strength while making it her very own pillar of assurance.
I glanced at Dmitri who was focused on the road ahead then looked over to see my lifeline sleeping on the backseat. Ariel was much like my own mother. They both endured so much, but still they persevered. Why, because they believed that there was more to life than suffering. And just as my father was willing to give my mother the sweetest slice of life's pie after she'd only ever tasted the gall, I was going to make it my mission in life to do the same for my woman. Not only that, but she'd get it doubled.
I must admit, after seeing the file on mom, at first felt so much rage. How could my own father do something so terrible? Taking part in such a dehumanizing act. I initially thought my mother hid it from us him to protect him, maybe she was afraid. Maybe stockholm syndrome.
Was my father a monster?
Then again, I was in no position to judge. Look at the business I was in. Look at the life I was living, the life I'd live. How many men have I killed, tortured? How many crimes did I enjoy committing? How many times did I crave the thrill of ending someone, watching the life drained from their eyes.
I too was a monster. A monster that once craved love, and now had it and would do anything to keep it. I know in my heart that I could never allow Ariel to leave me. She was mine. Sure, I would never hurt her. It is never my intention to see her cry. But some nights I lay awake, dreading if a day should come where she no longer wanted my love, or wanted to love me.
I would take her somewhere.
Somewhere far, far away.
A place where she'd be only mine.
These are some of the wicked thoughts that festered in my mind. After all, I was a mob man. We are inherently this way. Ariel was mine and I'd be damned to let her walk out of my life. I could only share her with one other. But in the end, they both belonged to me.
Shifting my gaze back to the window, I couldn't help the smirk that played on my lips.
I was no better that my father. In fact, I was the very same.
Spawn of his seed. Same immoral breed.
Indeed.
Like father like son, they say. I guess.
So in my own wicked nature and sinfulness, I found I was able to sympathize with him. I wanted to hear his story. I wanted to hear from his mouth exactly how this union between him and my mother came to be.
I wanted to have a deep discussion with him relating to the matter. My brothers and I would sit with him and talk. He would have to give us all the details. All the important ones that is, we didn't need to hear about all the freaky shit they surely did back then.
He might have done some questionable things in the past, which I myself have done. But that didn't change the fact that he was our father and he worked hard to give us the best life growing up. A life he probably didn't have because I've never heard him speak of our grandparents. We know they died but how, that was always a mistery.
I was getting tired of the secrets. They needed to be transparent with us now. It's high time they stopped hiding their pasts. I'm well aware they probably did it to protect us but the time has come. We're no longer kids. I am now a man. A man who's killed many. Whatever it was that they were trying to conceal, I'm quite sure I'm grown enough to handle it. After all, I've seen some pretty fucked up shit.
I was willing to forgive my father even though I hadn't yet heard his piece.
But one thing I knew for sure was, he had a whole lot of explaining to do.
END OF CHAPTER
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...Please don't eat me guys. I'm kinda grown now. I turned 20 last month so I have to be doing grown people things. I love you guys and appreciate you always checking in on me. :)
I honestly wasn't feeling this writing thing but a TikTok post motivated me to. The readers in the comments were so sad about the authors not updating. Some said they've been waiting on updates for up to 7 years and I felt really bad. ;(
!!! I kinda even stopped using the app overall because everytime I try to use it, it keeps saying my session expired and re-login is required.
