Lost in the Depth

Out in a Bang

Rayna

I remember the first time I held someone at gunpoint. It was a frightening moment, partly because I was only 16 at the time and had only seen people being shot. I'd never been the one to pull the trigger. Of course, that day wasn't when I killed a person for the first time.

Nonetheless, another reason I was in a sea of anxiety at that moment was because it was my dad I was holding at gunpoint. I never got a long with my dad. I was dead scared of him so that usually got in the way of any father-daughter bonding. That and the fact that he abused my mom.

It had been some fight about her that day. I know it was about him hitting her and me being sick of him. I don't think I honestly ever loved my dad in the way a daughter should. I didn't hate him. But I didn't love him either. It was always a strictly business and blood relationship with us. I can't even recall a time when I ever talked to him about anything other than Cosa Nostra.

But I can recall the way my father had looked at me after I lowered the gun. I thought it was over right there and then with the way he was stabbing me with his eyes, over and over again. If looks could kill I would've been on the ground, lifeless at that point.

I'm reminded of that look now that I turn to meet Antonio's face. Only it's a million times worse.

It's worse then my father's glare that day. It's worse then hearing the news reporter say my mother's name. It's even worse than being raped by Warner.

What have I done?

Why did I do this to him? 

Because it had to be done.

It had to be done. I keep repeating that sentence in my head, trying to convince myself that it's true.

I can't feel any regret now. It's too late for that.

Deciding I can't take his glare- which is an understatement- anymore, I quickly turn and walk out of the van.

"Everyone's out?" I ask Julian, who stands in front of the entrance to the skyscraper.

He nods. "A few people had to be shot though." There's a sort of strain in his voice. Guess I'm not the only one. But we can't afford to feel remorse.

I snap my fingers in front of his face, bringing him out of his haze. "Get a grip Julian. Would you rather they ambushed us first?"

"God, Rayna! You know, you sound exactly like your dad."

"Last I checked, my dad got shit done." In the worst possible way. 

"Get it into you head, cuz." He taps my head and I forcefully hit his hand away, in no way joking or teasing. "They weren't even planning on ambushing us. I searched the entire fucking building. No plans on it, whatsoever. What you did today was wrong and uncalled for."

"Do I need to remind you who's boss?"

"God, you sound just like him. You promised. You promised you wouldn't turn into him. You promised, Rayna!"

"And I'm not!" I yell at him now, only because he began yelling first.

"You know what? Fine. Go ahead and throw your whole life away just to win at some game that no one's even playing except you. Go right ahead, Rayna. Hell, I'll even stand by your side as you destroy everything about yourself." He pauses and his eyes pierce into my soul.

"But at least own up to it." And with that, he turns and walks away.

I just stand there for a moment, taking in everything he just said. 

Is he right? Am I throwing myself away for something completely pointless? 

I pinch the bridge of my nose. My mind is a sea of self conflict right now and I can't take it anymore.

"Clear out!" I yell to the parked vans.

Only when every single person is gone, do I walk a safe distance from the building, somewhere no passing civilian will see me.

My head is still screaming with voices, each on a different side of one of many arguments.

I push the button.

First I feel the pressure. I sort of winding pressure, pushing and pulling against me.

Then I see the light. Blinding white, reds, oranges and yellows of all kind.

And then I hear the sound.

The sound is what silences every single voice in my head, along with the ringing that follows.

And with that, the French mafia's headquarters collapses in on itself in one big, loud, boom.