"Pain is the distraction that kept me alive all those years."
______________________
Ace
The fright night air stung my sweaty skin. My heart raced inside my chest, singing the melancholy of pain. The night sky was as dark as that haunting dream. The sight of my mother's lifeless form sent shivers down my spine. It ignited the memory of that horrific night when everything changed.
Hailey heard every word that I whispered in sleep. That poor girl came to offer me comfort, and I pulled her away. I don't deserve comfort, maybe, that's why my mother's memory haunts me.
Sleep is the poison that I don't want to swallow, yet I have to. It triggered those dreams of death and loss.
I walked through the dingy alley, finding a place to let the brewing emotions out.
A devilish grin crept across my lips at the sight of the alley's dead end. The brick wall stood tall and rigid. I curled my calloused hands into fists and punched the wall. A rush of pain raced through my knuckles. I ignored the soaring pain and hit again and again and again.
A strange numbness spread through my blood knuckles. I pulled back and observed the marks and cuts that bled. Scarlet-blood oozed, pain spread through my arms. The stinging joy was enough to distract my mind.
I laughed in place of the tears that refused to shed through my eyes.
Each joint in my hands cried with agony. The punches would have broken my fingers, or the wrist had I not know the fighter's trick. Years of training had made my stupid hands like a stone.
I wiped my bloody knuckles against my shirt. The pain was a salve that fixed my broken soul. It reminded me I was still alive.
My phone rang; I took it out. A private number flashed on the screen. I pressed the receive button.
"Ace, Are you alright?" Antonio De Luca, the Consigliere asked, in his thick Italian accent.
"I'm okay," I said, trying to sound calm.
De Luca sighed. "It's the same dream again, right?"
I did not respond. De Luca had been a father figure in my useless life. He took care of my entire training process across various countries.
"Figlio, I know whatever you are going through is tough, but don't let your past affect your life," De Luca said in a fatherly tone.
"I know."
"Dominic will pay for everything he did to you and her. Plus, I have a score to settle as well."
I sighed. "The score regarding your leg?"
"Hmm. I found out a strange thing. My informer in the police found out that the cars that chased you belong to the Serrano Mafia."
"Seriously? That's weird. The Serrano Mafia and the Hernandez Mafia are on good terms. We never interfered with their business," I said, trying to process the details.
"You are right. But the matter is related to Ralph. When those unknown guys attacked, their target was Ralph." De Luca answered.
"Then, I was right. Hailey is at the target just because Ralph claimed to love."
"Possible. Take care and remember, we will strike at the right time to fulfill our revenge." De Luca hung the phone up.
I walked towards the Knights Inn. The cold bit against my sore knuckles. I ignored the pain and enjoyed my solemn walk.
I slid the keys into the keyhole and entered the rented room. Hailey sat on the couch with her eyes shut. I felt as if she was waiting for me, but why would she wait for me?
Ignoring my thoughts, I picked the jug on the table, filling the empty glass. I drank to my fill and noticed the red stains that my blood had left against the translucent glass.
"Ace! You are back," Hailey said, her voice filled with worry.
"Go back to sleep," I muttered, placing the glass back on the table.
"Jesus Christ! Is that blood on your knuckles?" she asked.
I turned back, and my eyes met with Hailey's cerulean eyes. A look of shock spread across her innocent face. She shifted her eyes upon my injured hands.
The scarlet fluid shined against my skin. It was still fresh; the blood had not dried.
"What happened to your hands?"
"I punched a wall multiple times," I said, telling her the truth.
"You are insane."
"I know. Anyway, my injuries are none of your concerns. The antiseptic and bandages are in the supply bag. I will tend to my knuckles," I said, walking towards the bed.
Hailey gripped my arm. "Shut up and sit on the couch."
I pulled my arm from her grip.
"Sit on the couch," she repeated, her voice filled with determination.
"Never try to order me."
"Let me clean the wounds. You will get an infection. Moreover, you can't do this yourself," she said, taking in a deep breath.
"Thank you so much for your kindness, but I don't need it."
"I am not showing kindness to you. Let me pay the debt that I owe you."
"Fine." I sat on the couch and silently observed her.
She placed the antiseptic and bandages on the table along with the cotton and clean water.
"Give me your hand," she said as she dipped the cotton in the water.
I obeyed; she gently cleaned both my knuckles. The cuts soared with pain as the antiseptic contacted my skin. I flinched but kept my mouth shut.
"These will leave scars," she said, wrapping the bandages with accuracy.
"I cherish scars."
"Weird. People hate scars," she mused. Her eyes focused on my face. She observed me like a hawk, trying to see through my expressionless face.
"Every scar has a story. Some you hate. Some you love. But each remains a part of us. The proof of failure and victory. Loss and suffering." I curled my bandaged knuckles into fists like a little exercise movement.
"Lesson noted, your majesty."
"Your majesty, seriously? Trying to mock me?"
"You can call me your highness; why can't I call you your majesty?"
A real smile spread across my lips.
"That smile suits you rather than your signature scowl," She smiled, and that was the most genuine smile that I saw in ages.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading. Don't forget to vote and comment.
Personally I love these small Ailey moments. What about you.
Help: I think that I should change the current title.
Ideas: □ Mafia Games
□ Guns and Roses
□ or the current one.
Share your opinion