Angel

38

            I had been released from the hospital and taken home what seemed like weeks ago, when I received the call. "Hello?" I answered the phone. "We've got him. Come home. Now," came the sound of Tommy's voice. He ended the call with a soft click the moment after he'd spoken. I immediately rushed to my room, gathering my coat in my hands, my heart roaring angrily in my chest. "Angel, what's the rush, where are you goin'?" Alfie asked, placing a soft hand on my upper arm to stop me in my tracks. "They've got him," I mumbled quietly, meeting his eyes. I didn't even have to name names, Alfie knew who I was talking about. "I'm not lettin' ya go alone, angel," Alfie muttered, grabbing his coat from the hook next to the front door. "Alfie," I sighed, but he cut me off with a shake of his head. "Nah, nah. You don't get to tell me to sit out on this one, angel. Because of his men, I almost lost ya," Alfie whispered softly, reaching up and caressing my cheek with a gentle hand. "Well, alright then," I replied, knowing his mind wouldn't be swayed. He wanted revenge against the Changretta's as much as Tommy and I did, and I knew there was no point in denying him this. He'd find a way to take his revenge sooner or later anyhow. He locked the front door behind us and we rushed over to the car, diving into our seats and taking off towards Tommy's.

            The ride had been silent, the anticipation and anger taking over our hearts as we drove through the late afternoon sun. I swallowed harshly, my lips pressed together in a harsh line as I watched the landscape pass us by. "You alright angel?" Alfie asked softly, slipping a hand into mine as the sun began to sink in the sky. I nodded in response, choosing to remain silent. When we'd finally arrived in Birmingham, the stars were shining brightly across the dark sky, and the sun had disappeared from view. Alfie shut the car off in front of Tommy's house, and I jumped out immediately, beelining for the front door that swung open just as I'd reached it. "I hope you didn't start without us, brother," I hissed as I strode inside, removing my coat and hanging it on the wall. "Us?" Tommy asked, his voice hard and cold. "Yes, us. Because of him, I almost lost my life, so naturally my fiancé wants his own revenge, and if you think you can deny him that-" I started, one finger pointed into Tommy's chest. "I'm not denying anyone anything. As long as you two promise to let me do most of the work," Tommy cut me off. I swallowed, removing my finger from his chest, nodding slowly. Tommy lit a lantern as Alfie stepped inside, and he beckoned us further into the house with a nod of his head. The walls in the basement were made of cement, making the passageways colder than the rest of the house. I ignored the shivers than danced up and down my spine as we walked further and further into the darkness these passageways held. Arthur and John awaited us at the end of the hallway, in an open room, where Vicente Changretta sat, hands tied behind his back with no shirt on.

            "Lena," Arthur mumbled with a nod in greeting as we stepped into the room. "Arthur, John," I replied with a nod. "Lena," John nodded in a stiff reply. This was not the time or the place for warm family greetings. There was work to be done, and revenge to be taken. Tommy stared down at Vicente, whose eyes were closed as he prayed in Italian under his breath. I watched as my brother pulled a chair up, sitting across from Changretta, his eyes cold and unforgiving. "Do you know what time it is, old man?" Tommy asked. Vicente said nothing in reply, only continuing to mutter his prayers. "I'll tell you," Tommy continued, "It's after seven in the evening, and I'm gonna keep you alive until it gets light. I'll not deliver the final cut until we can both hear the blackbirds singing outside." The old man said nothing in reply, and Tommy furiously gripped the back of his neck, pulling him forward to whisper in his ear. "It's a beautiful sound. Which my wife will never hear again," he'd whispered.

            Changretta once again went back to murmuring his prayers as Tommy rose to his feet, furiously letting go of the back of the old man's neck. John stepped forward as Tommy outstretched a hand, holding a wooden box. Tommy removed the latches, pulling a razor out of the velvet lined box. "Now, I'm gonna have to choose carefully, which part of you I cut away first," Tommy hissed, while the old man continued praying. "Open your eyes!" I growled, stepping forward next to my brother. "Do what the lady asked, or I will cut away your fucking eyelids!" Tommy shouted, leaning into Chagretta's face. The old man's eyes slowly opened as they met Tommy's harsh gaze. "Now, look at me. Look at me," Tommy whispered, "This is the end. This is the end." Tommy rose, handing me the blade. "It was your tongue that gave the order," I muttered, taking his place, "I'll take your tongue first. Then he'll take your ears. Then he'll take your fingers. Then your fucking toes. See, we take your balls first, you drain too fast like you fuckers do." "No, I think tongue first. Tongue first," Tommy muttered, stepping back up beside me. "Tongue first. If I take your tongue, you won't be able to explain, and I want you to explain. I want you to fucking explain!" he shouted then. He leaned down, in a haze of fury, pulling the old man into his chest for a moment, before ripping himself away and stepping backwards. He crossed the room, mumbling to himself.

            "Come on Tommy," he whispered, before turning to face the old man, "I forget who I am. We forget who we are. We're Blinders, we'll take your fucking eyes first!" he shouted. Tommy reached my position, placing both hands on my back and pressing me forward until I'd reached the place where Changretta sat. "I'm going to enjoy this," I muttered, leaning down towards his face. Just as I positioned the blade where I wanted it, a shot echoed out throughout the chamber, and my head snapped up to Arthur, who's outstretched gun had let a bullet loose. One that buried itself through Changretta's skull. Tommy and I breathed in and out heavily, utter shock painted across our faces. "I heard the blackbird sing," Arthur muttered, lowering his gun. "And we let his wife board the immigrant ship to New York," John confessed after a beat of silence, "We didn't kill Mrs. Changretta." "It's alright," Alfie murmured softly, stepping behind me and gently taking the razor from my hands. He placed it back in the velvet lined box, pulling me into his chest gently, as Arthur and John tried to handle Tommy. In my heart, I was glad they'd let Mrs. Changretta live, she'd been one of our teachers in school. And I knew, it was for the better that Arthur had shot Vicente. The torture I'd wanted to inflict on him...it would have destroyed me on the inside, and they knew it. No matter how smooth and unaffected my voice sounded, they knew how I'd feel once the deed had been done, and Arthur took matters into his own hands. My big brother, and forever my protector it would seem.

            "It's alright," Arthur tried to reassure Tommy, who still remained frozen where he stood, "We're not those kind of men. Without another word, Arthur strode away from us, leaving the chamber in silence. I cleared my throat, looking to Tommy and meeting his eyes. It would seem we both knew Arthur was right, in doing what he did. "John, get rid of the body. Get rid of those, for good," I ordered my younger brother, nodding to the torture tools that lay in the box on the floor. Without another word, Tommy took off after Arthur, leaving the chamber. "Come on, angel. You look like you need a drink," Alfie whispered softly, and I nodded. We turned from John, and the body of Vicente Changretta, following my brothers' path out of the chamber and back up to the main house.