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TW: BLOOD
Dominic found me waiting just outside of the door where I came out from with the gun that I stole from him in hand, just in case someone came after me. He had a big gash on his forehead, and had difficulty seeing the road as his own blood blinded him while we drove back to his place.
We entered the house in a rush, blood dripping viscously down Dominic's face. Suddenly, we were in the kitchen, and Dominic opened cupboards for something to stop the bleeding.
I felt completely and totally useless. There Dominic was, bleeding a whole ass river while I stood there doing nothing. The cut on his forehead had to be around two inches wide, but deep enough to cause that much bleeding.
Moving with a sense of purpose, he came back to the island a few seconds later, placing down a white medical box and a wet cloth onto the marble counters.
I brushed the hair that fell on his forehead away, then delicately lifted his hand from his wound, slowly cleaning the somewhat dried blood from above his eyebrow. "Hold that there and tell me what to do," I told him, placing the cloth on the source of the blood. He used his free hand to hold the cloth in place as I opened the medical box.
The box contained all kinds of equipment: bandages, gauze pads, alcohol swabs, syringes, steri-strips, stitching threads, bottles of unknown liquids, etc. My gaze flicked over the array of medical supplies.
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Eventually, Dominic had talked me through most of the process of stitching up the gash on his forehead, and it wasn't so bad. Yeah, it was extremely unsettling to watch a needle puncture through his skin, but it wasn't too complicated to learn.
"What about your cheek?" I asked him, placing the tools that I used on him back onto the counter. The cut on his cheek wasn't too big, but the surrounding area of skin was bright pink and there was quite a bit of blood. He shook his head. "I'm sure it's nothing."
I was in awe of how Dominic was able to go through this without any kind of numbing. In fact the way he completely refused it. Either he still had a shit ton of adrenaline coursing through his veins, or he was just that fucking tough.
He tried to grab the cloth that was still in my hand, but I moved it away. "Let me do it."
I hovered over over him awkwardly, dabbing the cut gently. My legs were starting to tremble from nerves, and at just how close I was to Dominic. "You can sit down, you know?" Dominic told me, his voice steady and calm.
"Where?" I asked, as there was clearly no place to sit.
His eyes lingered to his lap, then back up at me. "I'm not sitting in your lap, Dominic."
"Why not? You've done it before."
"That doesn't mean I'll do it again." I rolled my eyes, and Dominic muttered something under his breath. "Sure it doesn't."
Ignoring him, I continued to dab the small cut on his face. Once I was done cleaning the wound, I let him stand up. He turned on the kitchen faucet, running his hands under warm water, turning the water light pink.
I leaned my back against the counter, suddenly realizing what had just happened minutes ago."So you were just never going to tell me you were in the fucking mafia?" I emphasized, my voice tense with a mix of disbelief and anger as I confronted him.
He didn't respond immediately, his gaze flicking away from mine and back to the task of washing his stained hands. The room felt heavy with unspoken tension. Wanting insight into his thoughts, I pressed further, my tone blunt, "Say something."
"I don't have anything to say."
"You kill people," I stated, the words feeling surreal as they left my lips.
His response was chilling in its nonchalance, a simple mumble, "Mhm."
The gravity of his admission hung between us. My mind raced, struggling to process the revelation that the man I thought I knew was entangled in something so dark. I didn't even really know him, and every time I seemed to become vulnerable around him, in the car, in the bathroom, he found a way to expose more of his secrets. He was never the man that I thought he was. "And you expect me to brush that off like it's nothing?" I retorted, my voice tinged with incredulity.
"I never said that," he replied coolly.
"You're implying it," I shot back, my heart pounding with anger.
His gaze met mine again, unwavering as he turned off the faucet. "Those people that you murder, they have families," I pushed, my voice shaking with a mixture of outrage while he looked at me. "That boy on stage, he was someone's son."
The weight of his admission began to settle, the harsh reality of his actions crashing down on me. The way he killed the boy without hesitation shook me to my core. "Everything that I do, Red, are things that they deserve," he stated, his words carrying an unsettling conviction.
That's the type of shit that a serial killer says.
"How- how could you say that?" My voice quivered, struggling to comprehend the coldness in his tone.
"If you'd seen the evil that I've seen, you would understand why I do the things that I do," he responded, his voice carrying a haunting detachment.
"I've seen evil, hell, I've been through it," I choked on my words, my emotions raw and tangled. "But I never... I never..."
My resolve solidified, fueled by a mix of anger and desperation. I need to leave. I needed to get away from Dominic, from everything. "I'm leaving, I'll see you tomorrow." I told him, starting to walk away.
He stood in front of me, towering over my own figure. Now that I took the time to look at him, I realized that he was still bleeding from his ear. "Sit down."
I stepped forward, trying to push passed him by his shoulder. "Get out of my way."
He brought out his forearm, stopping me as he wrapped his arm around my abdomen. I froze, looking up at him. Once my steps had halted, he took me by both of my hips, gently pressing me back down onto the chair that he once sat in. "Sit down."
His hands remained there, firm on the silk fabric of the dress that I wore. "Someone just tried to kill you, and you want to go out alone?" he snapped, his concern finally surfacing through his veneer of detachment.
"He didn't kill me, you killed him," I shot back, a bitterness underlying my words.
"I was protecting you, it's a part of the fucking contract, Violet."
"Screw the goddamn contract, and screw you," I spat, my anger uncontainable. "I don't need your fucking protection."
"Like hell you don't," he bit back, his voice hardening. "You pissed off the Russians, Violet. What do you expect to happen when you walk out that door? For them to just forget about whatever you did?"
My defiance faltered for a moment, replaced by uncertainty. "I didn't do anything to the Russians, I'm not a killer," shaking my head, "I'm not like you." The hesitation was bitter on my tongue. I knew what I said was hurtful, I knew that I didn't mean it, I knew that I was lying.
"The boy that you keep defending? Had a gun aimed at your head. The man I shot after? He was sentenced to 13 years in prison for raping 6 girls, but got out 6 years early on parole. The man beside him, the one that my sister killed? Slaughtered the homeless living in an alleyway. You're telling me that they deserved to live?"
My heart sunk suddenly at his words, waking me up. Dominic was right, they deserved to die. Their death should have been crueler, they shouldn't have gotten the easy way out. They deserved slow, painful, agonizing deaths.
I sighed deeply, placing my head into my hands, tangling my fingers into my hair in stress and contemplation. "Do you swear to me, swear to me that the people you hurt are all bad people."
"I swear to you, alright?"
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After Dominic and I's alarming conversation, I took what had to be the longest shower of my life. Cleaning my hands and forearms of Dominic's blood, wiping my face of makeup, scrubbing my body with soap.
I didn't know what to think of Dominic anymore. I knew that I should have felt scared by him, how he was so cold in the subject of murder, but I didn't. I wasn't scared of him, and I couldn't shake why.
Once I was done with my shower, I slipped into some sweatpants and a T-shirt, hopping into bed, but I couldn't seem to sleep. The realization of the fact that I could've died back there kept my mind awake.
I guess Dominic was kind of born into the whole Mafia thing, with his sister included. I didn't know where Alec came from though. He spoke Italian, but it was obvious that it wasn't his first language.
Eventually I blocked out my thoughts and shut my eyes, refusing to open them again so that I could sleep.
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