Midnight Mass

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

After our sophisticated meal at McDonalds, Gabriel suggests that we walk home instead of getting a cab. I hesitantly agree. My feet hurt from standing all day and the heels on my feet don't make it any better.

"How's school?" I ask.

He started his first semester of an economics and finance degree last month and I have yet to ask him about it.

"It's fine," he says. "Hectic, but fine."

I nod then look around the street. It's dark, only street lights offering some light and a poster which says "Go back" moves back and forth due to the force of the wind. I get an unsettling feeling from it, like it's warning us.

"I love you."

Gabriel's words bring me back to the present. I chuckle lightly.

"Everyone loves me," I say with a smug smile.

He huffs out a breath as a look of embarrassment crosses his face.

"I like you, like you. Not in a...as a friend kind of way."

It takes exactly five minutes of awkward silence for me to understand what it is he is saying. He likes me? Relationship with him kind? We stop walking in the middle of the road. I look up to meet his eyes.

I don't see Gabriel in that light and once your brain is made up on only seeing someone as a brother, I don't think it can go back.

"Gabe...I."

"You don't have to love me back. I just want you to know that I love you. I love your smile, your beautiful eyes," he cups my cheek, his thumb brushes my bottom lip. "I love you, Aria. I've loved you for a long time."

I can't bring myself to look into his eyes with the intensity they hold. I look down to glance at the heart shaped necklace he had given me on my birthday. 

He lifts my face to meet his eyes and without registering what is happening, I feel his lips on mine. His lips are soft, gentle. They move against my still ones until I start to move mine. I want to feel something for him because I know he is exactly the kind of man I deserve. He is sweet, kind, protective without being overbearing and cares so much for a girl he barely knows. But I can't. I don't feel the passion that I desperately crave to feel. 

Before I can push him away, a sharp sound pierces the eerily quiet road. One sets off a series of others. My mind can not keep up with what is going on until Gabriel pushes me against a tree and shields me with his body.

Voices fill the street then cars then men running and rushing towards us. I shake.

"Gabe," it's whispered out.

"Shhh," he sushes.

I'm shaking, terrified of dying this young. I'd heard stories about the mafia's activities in various areas of the city. I just didn't think I'd be here to witness them.

Words are uttered in a language I can not understand and the war goes on for what feels like ages until a man falls right in front of me. He lays sideways, eyes open as blood oozes from his forehead.

The shaking becomes uncontrollable and I scream.

"Shit," I hear Gabe mutter. He pulls me to him and tells me to run. I can't hear him over how hysterical I become. He tries to walk in the other direction but falls to the ground with a thud.

"Gabriel!" I screech and crawl to his body.

Blood. So much blood. His white t-shirt absorbs the colour until it's all I can see. They shot him. They shot him and he is going to die.

"Gabriel please open your eyes," I sob and frantically try to remember what his mother said about keeping someone alive. I press my hand onto his chest and try to stop the bleeding.

"Gabe," I cry. "Please don't leave me."

Tearing off a layer of my dress, I press the cloth on his wound.

Pain erupts from my scalp as I feel myself being lifted up. Fear consumes me. I try to wiggle out of the grip on my head to no avail.

"You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?"

 
It's spoken with a thick accent. French? Spanish? No, it's Italian.

"It would be a pity to kill you."

The man wraps an arm around my waist and drags me away from Gabe. I kick and scream for him to release me but he doesn't. By the time he drops me on the ground I am a sobbing mess. My knees scrape against the road as I try to lift myself to my feet.

"Cos'è questo?"

(What is this)

I hear a deep baritone voice ask. I realize I'm kneeling before his feet. Despite the darkness that consumes the surroundings I can see that his shoes are impeccably clean, black with an expensive shine.

"Si nascondeva dietro gli alberi con il suo ragazzo."

(She was hiding behind the trees with her boyfriend)

The other man answers.

"È morto?" The scary voice asks.

(Is he dead?)

"Quasi."

(Almost)

I let out a pained wail. It hurts, everything hurts. I can't think or else pain will consume me.

"Può capirmi?" The man behind me asks.

(can she understand me?)

They both laugh.

"Dovrei togliertela dalle mani?"

(Should I take her off your hands?)

I hiss when I'm lifted to my feet by my hair. I realize that I haven't stopped shaking. My chin is forcefully raised to meet the eyes of the man with the shiny black shoes.

I cry while he stares into my soul. His eyes are so dark and evil it doesn't seem humanly possible. A curl of hair falls down his forehead. He looks over my face, my hair, my eyes, my nose, all the while burning me with his gaze.

"Uccidila."

(Kill her)