Devil of Pride

Chapter 5

Luc

Rage.

One of the very few emotions I actually happen to struggle controlling. It has always been that way, I never had problems with guilt, love or sadness. I guess it's another one of the things I got from my father, his anger issues.

I always refused to admit the fact that I have anything from him. When I was younger, I looked up to him. He was like a god to me, so I spent all my time trying to make him proud. I wanted him to love me the same way he loved himself, the same way I loved him. But as stubborn as my father is he had other plans. All he ever saw was Diego, and his perfect attitude.

I find myself back in reality. My steps carried me through the corridors towards my private headquarters. It's cold. The chilly air brushes over the exposed skin on my arms. It's a peaceful September night, seemingly at least. Things in this house are never peaceful, they never have been. There's always something going on behind locked doors.

Someone could be tortured and killed right in this very moment and you'd never know.

Anyone of father's men could be lingering in any corner. It's sad that we can't even let our guard down in our own home. I guess that's one of the downsides being the son of a mafia boss. We can't ever risk showing weakness, although my dear brother probably wouldn't even care.

My thoughts snap out of my head, clearing my vision again. My eyes finally managed to adjust to the darkness of the corridors. Loud halls of footsteps fill the area behind me. I stop and shove myself into one of the empty bedrooms.

I'm not really supposed to walk around in my brother's headquarters, especially after sunset so I make sure to stay unnoticed.

Over the years I've learned many things one of them being how to hide yourself and be one with your surroundings. Already as a kid I played in the shadows, always staying hidden from the people I hated but with a good watch on them. I found peace in the darkness of places like a cemetery near my school or the basement where I found different people every day.

I used to wonder what happened to them when I was gone and why they always disappeared. I used to talk to them, they told me about their families and I brought them water.

I lived on, clueless who these people were or why they sat in our basement until one day I heard someone walk down the wooden stairs that would lead directly to the room I was in.

I decided to hide in a small closet, the doors shut enough to hide me in the dim light of the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling on a small cable.

I was scared, for myself and them. My hands shaky, I watched carefully not wanting to miss a single detail. I saw my father walk up to them.

He was wearing his suit. Why was he wearing his suit this late at night?

His hand slipped to the back of his suit jacket and under the fabric until his skin met the metal of the holstered gun that reflected the light on its silver shiny surface ever so slightly.

Ringing filled my ears and my vision blurred. I heard screaming, begging, before everything went silent. A sob fighting its way up my throat before it passed my lips. I covered my mouth with my hands.

A dull thud.

A lifeless body dropped to the ground, empty eyes of the man I just laughed with staring right at me. Tears built up in my eyes at the crimson liquid that was leaking out the man's chest forming a small puddle around him and staining the stone floor beneath him.