Scream

Enzo King

 "Enzo..."

"Go," I demand. "I'll be fine..." I smirk. "I'm always going to be fine." 

 With an approving nod from his father, Aero leaves the table before whispering a"thank you" in my ear. With an attentive father and an intense closeness with my mother, Aero leaves the house. Once the door closes, my mother sits down beside me. 

 "Is there an uncle I don't know about who had the twins?" I inquire. 

 "Ezio..." my mom hisses to my father. 

 "It's alright," he assures, lifting his hand. "He can know, Alessa. He's an adult, now."

 In this case, I can see how Aero is like our father: the sun. I can also see how I am like my mother: the night. 

 "Enzo, my boy," my father says. "When I was eighteen, I had twins. They were mine and your mother's. There was a problem with their birth; they were incredibly premature. It affected them for the rest of their lives. During a crucial development stage, some mainline arteries were unable to grow and instead stretched to the point they ruptured. We took them to Giovanni as fast as possible, but it was too late. Their blood type was rare: AB negative. There were no available donors and they passed. Gio took it to heart by being emotionally involved. After they died, I fell into a stage of...depression, I guess; isolation and pain. He blamed himself and committed suicide. If I had never have brought them to him, maybe he wouldn't have killed himself."

 After he finishes his explanation, my father sighs and rubs his temples with emotion. There's something about it that seems familiar to me: the way he goes about displaying his emotion.

My mother rubs my dad's hand. "Oh, Ezio. Look at what you've done, Enzo," my mother blames me. "Look. This is why you mind your own business!" 

 "This was my business," I argue. "My Uncle Giovanni killed himself because my dad had premature twins, who were my sisters. That sure sounds like my business, mother." 

 "Out," she demands, furious. "I want you out of this house – forever. Clean your room up and leave." 

 "Mom, you're being ridiculous," I tell her like it's a fact because it is. "You guys are my parents – don't kick me out because I have questions about my family history when it splattered on the walls of a morgue!" 

 "I don't care," Alessa – not Mom – says. "You've already been staying with some other girl. How much do you pay her an hour, huh?" 

A searing hot flame ignites in the pit of my stomach. "She's not a whore, Alessa. I don't think she's ever even had sex." 

"So what is she? Your toy, a pet, an object?"

 I dig deep into my pocket for two reasons. One, so I don't hit my own mother; and two, to show her something. I latch onto a small box and flip it open to show my parents. "This is what she is, Alessa." 

 My father and his wife flick their eyes to the ring in the box. "Enzo, where did you get money for that?" Alessa interrogates. 

 "Doesn't matter. I'm moving out, so it shouldn't concern you." I turn away to collect some items from my room that actually mean something to me. I leave the drugs in my secret compartments, so when Aero moves out, I can call the cops and report that my parents are involved in some bad, bad stuff. I believe the correct term is "framing." 

 After I gather my things, I storm out the door. On the porch, I surprisingly find Aero on the bench. "Where are you going?" he asks me. 

 "You didn't hear?" I ask.