Mafia's Silence

18: End the Misery

I stayed on the floor like a crumbled tissue paper; he stood a few steps away from me. Even in his injured condition, he looked like a beast reading to take on whoever would dare to oppose him. His face was flushed, his tanned skin had crimson red shining due to deep cuts and those bruises must be from the few punches of his enemy. He was lucky, I thought. At least his enemies came forward, mine just lied and lied and put me in different kind of miseries time to time.

"What happened?" his voice boomed in his almost empty room, for an injured man, his voice certainly did not quiver.

His question made me look away towards the file that defined my life as a lie just few moments ago. He understood as he picked up those and put it inside the cupboard. "Get up!" he ordered.

I shook my head. Not that I wanted to stay in his room, it is just...my legs were famished, I could not think straight. I felt my head was spinning and I could not feel my legs so I did not possess any strength to stand and walk away as if what I read was nothing. For me, the floor I was sitting on was a lie and as I was sitting on it and I was unable to get out of its clutches. He tried to actuate me to gain my composure, "Come on," he crouched down near me and whispered.

"He told me she died of some incurable illness; we did have a funeral then why..." I said to him, looking up. His eyes were drooping; he must have been feeling dizzy as well.

"You need sleep!" he said. His hardened and bruised hand grasped my hand and applied force to pick me up; second later I was up; standing on my feet, mostly leaning on to him.

"Do not tell me...what I need, you all are just liars, hiding things, about my family-" his hand snaked around my waist; tightened as I called him out on lying, and I saw his dark gaze bore into me in disagreement.

"Shut up," he mumbled.

"You too!" I pushed him away; both of hands had strength to throw him two steps backward.

"I did not know it before!" he yelled. His tone was harsh, the voice echoed in his room. I took a few steps backward to lean on wall to have its support because mentally, physically and emotionally – I was drained, "I have had a tough day today, so maybe stop blaming me for something your pathetic excuse of a father did!" he continued and I acceded because before being kidnapped, it was not Romeo who made my life a hell. It was him – my freaking father.

He turned around and started to pace around in the room, fuming. He was gritting his teeth, mouthing curses at the world and just banging the wall. His wounds were bleeding and he did not seem to flinch at all. I wanted to ask him about the file and the information of my mother's empty grave and no record of her death; but I could see, he was unaware. He did not know my father and that must have been pissing him off, but I did not leave the room. I stayed to ask about something that he knew very well – the shooting. "What happened?"

He stopped near his window, absorbing the cold breeze. His head turned towards me, he looked at me as if he was wondering what I was doing there despite his shouting, he felt defied. He graced me with his infamous silence; and with his hand, signaled me to get the hell out of his room. I did not of course.

I moved towards him instead. He heaved a sigh in annoyance. I stood beside him, "I live here due to your kindness, my life is already a lie but it is not gone, could have been gone if I was shot instead of whoever was shot – so I believe I deserve to know!" before I could end my pitch, I tightly held his arm and yanked him towards me to face me. I am tired of his silence, his unresponsive attitude.

"This is your cage, not your house so I am not liable to tell you anything." There he was; prevaricating as always. He jerked my hand off his arm and pushed me on the wall beside the window. "Do not touch me ever again!" he emphasized each word, it felt like every word was laced with venom. Was I scared of him? I mean, anyone would be if they end up being an inch closer to some Mafia ruler who has such eyes that know only hatred. But at that moment, I was not angry. My anger was deflected towards my father and his lies about my mother, so with Romeo, I just wanted some answers as always.