Alexis

Vincent had land far far away on the island of Sicily. Near water. About a 30 minute walk. I was left with Tito and about ten other people that I didn't know. Vincent mentioned, before he left to see his mother, that Dante and Beatrice were going to stop by. Vincent didn't mention a time and he was gone quickly.

Of course, that didn't stop me too much. I had a plan tonight. I knew, through the secret grapevine, where Luca would be. I needed to get to him first. I heard he and Donna would be in close proximity.

When the sun set and neither Vinent nor Dante and Beatrice showed up, I got ready to go out. I wore a black tank top, jacket, and jeans. My hair was pulled back in a low bun. As I went to leave, Tito grabbed my arm from behind.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Vincent is still away."

"I know," I confirmed. "He knows I'm leaving." I stretched the truth. Yes, Vincent knew. Just not tonight and right now.

Tito pulled me back and I realized that he was not going to let me leave tonight if Vincent wasn't here to confirm my words. I've learned, in the past nine months, that a phone call did not suffice.

"No," he stiffly said.

"Tit—"

A sturdy knock sounded against the wooden door. Tito gently (gentle to him, it wasn't as gentle to me since he was built like Mount Rushmore) pushed me back and he went to answer the door. Dante and Beatrice.

Lord, there is always perfect timing! Sign from God. Sign from Dad.

—

An hour passed. Vincent wasn't back still. I was growing impatient. I noticed that Dante and Beatrice knew a lot of Vincent staff. They were having drinks. Laughing, mingling. It reminded me of my dad. And, I noticed that Tito was slightly into it. But slight was all I needed. There was a motorcycle in the garage. Of course, knowing that brought me back to August. Same method I used to escape back when I thought my life was horrible.

Ha. . . "horrible. . . ."

I wasn't sure how I was able to sneak out because if there was one thing I knew about Tito is that he knew everything that goes on around him. Even if I never told him, he some how knew. Yet, I didn't see him when I left and I saw no one following me. I parked the motorcycle on the outskirts of the city of which I was going. In a little alley. I walked into the main part of the city. It was popular. Very popular.

—

My life felt a blur recently. Just moments that stuck out. Everything else leading up and following were simply written out yet a finger was run over the words, blurring them. And that's what it felt like, the moments between leaving Vincent's house and seeing Donna start to walk out the back. Hatred bubbled up inside. I felt an extreme connection between my gun and myself and it was as if my gun was urging me to take her out. I couldn't stop as I subtly followed her out back.

Moments went by in snaps.

I pulled out my gun.

Clicked off the safety.

She turned around.

I didn't hesitate.

No last words for her. I didn't want to hear her voice. No. Never again.

And I shot her in her chest.

Great aim.

Perfect aim.

Her left breast.

The rufous color that spilled and stained her reminded me of Neveda. I smiled as my finger pressed the trigger once more.