Dark Roots

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This is a special, Bonas chapter from Davide's POV-

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Davide POV

I felt pride that I had captured her back, and knowing she had stupidly fallen in love with my runt of a brother Dean only brings me more pleasure in seeing her pain. I loved seeing him suffer! 

When I was a child and small, I hated living with him and my mother. Mother would spend time baking, cooking or colouring with him, leaving me to play alone. 

Telling me that I was a big boy, his big brother and it was my job to protect him. I never understood why I would care to protect him, I didn't feel any love or any form of an attachment to Dean. 

In Fact when he was born he tore our family apart. When I was a baby, my mother and father tried to raise me together. Then he was born, and he was born early, the runt. 

He had to be delivered by C section. Mother was very unwell, and all because she chose to have another child. They already had me, and yet they both wanted more, and both prefered Dean too. Yet that is what led to them separating until years later.

When I moved away to study under my father I was so happy, I had always thought about harming others, seeing their pain brought me joy. 

I knew my father ran a shady business. I didn't know the gravity of his business, what with him being the leader of the mafia, the Don! 

I was oh so happy to follow in his footsteps, I was very disappointed to learn he had rules, he did not harm others for fun, there was a structure to it, and I didnt follow any structure very well. 

I remember when I got angered by one of fathers men trying to instruct me on how to use a gun, I can't explain why and I don't care to, but I had beautiful visions of his blood spilling to the floor, and a sweet silence. 

I turned and shot him right in the side of the head. Another one of Fathers men was with us, and ran off to tell father. 

I could have shot him down, hiding the bodies. Only I was thrilled at the idea of seeing Dad's disappointed face. 

I didn't mind that he would be angry, and I couldn't care less how he punished me. I wasn't planning to kill the man, but the sensation of joy, the anticipation for the pleasure I believed I would feel seeing his life drain from his body compelled me to do it. It didn't take long for me to just pull that trigger. I had no regrets. 

So whenever I visited my mother in England where father could not interrupt, I enjoyed acting on my compellsion. I had sudden urges to see pain, to see blood and I soon learned that I had no mercy. 

I was strong and tough and exactly what a leader needed to be. Only father disagreed, he said a leader should be respected not feared. 

He would try and cover up my crimes, and often bring me back to Italy when I had acted on them. He even had me be assessed as a child. Only when he learned I didn't just have anger issues, but what they called antisocial personality disorder it meant Father could not be seen leaving me in charge. 

I would be perceived as deranged or unhinged and that would have been unsettling to his men. So he made the doctor lie on my forms, and called it anger issues.

Only no amount of boxing would help, or any amount of therapy. Still I was glad my father saw I didn't need medication, or to be sectioned like some lunatic. 

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