War

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A/N - this chapter is SAD but probs my fav to write so far 😃

TW - scenes depicting and mentioning child abuse, violence, and upsetting themes throughout

~~~

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓
Marco
┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛

I was losing whatever fibres of my sanity I had left.

Two weeks had passed since whoever was targeting my wife had turned to threatening messages instead of photographs of her, and I was growing more and more livid as the days passed.

While Aniyah was no longer using the phone that the messages were being sent to, I'd seen every single one that had been sent to her old device; every message revolving around me in one way or another. Warning her away from me, claiming she didn't know the heinous acts I'd committed, that she'd meet her demise whilst being married to me.

I didn't know people were so bored as to involve themselves in my business, but that appeared to be the case here.

And although I hadn't wanted Aniyah knowing the details of what these messages contained, I wouldn't lie to her or withhold information if she asked me.

I didn't know who to trust anymore, the only thing crystal clear to me was that I needed to keep the people close to me safe, now more than ever.

"This is bullshit Marco, I'm not doing this", I dragged my gaze up to Emiliano's, knowing he would have the most to say about the course of action I was taking.

"Chill man, it's a precaution- probably won't even need to use it", Elijah said, inspecting the gun I'd just slid across the table towards him.

"You can't force me to carry this shit", he shook his head, adamant about his decision, "I won't let you back me into a corner like-,". He snapped his mouth shut a little too late, the damage already done as a painful silence filled the air.

I watched my brother, the way he shrank back slightly- this wasn't him and we both knew it; and he was just as haunted by that day as I was.

"That's not fair", Ezekiel snapped, breaking the silence with a tight frown on his face, "he's trying to protect us". My youngest brother seemed the most open to this idea, the weapon I'd just given him being held at his side, looking as if it were an extension of him.

"You think I don't know that?", Milo scoffed, waving a hand towards his untouched gun, "but I'm sure there are other ways to do this".

"Like what?", Eli lifted a shoulder, "I think this gives me edge". He'd probably go off brandishing the weapon now, but I couldn't keep him in check- nor did I want to.

"You don't give a shit about anything serious, and you won't even need to use this- you don't leave the house", none of us were used to seeing Emiliano agitated, but I'd expected it when I told them to use their guns whenever they saw fit.

My twenty-five year old brother had never, and would never, believed that violence was the answer to anything- it was a shame he'd been raised in an environment that taught him the opposite.

"Don't turn this on him", Eli snapped, squaring up to our brother who had an inch or two on him, "we're all fucked up Milo, you're not special".