Italian-American Mafia: Origin Story

41.

Hades Pov

Turning on the shower I watch the blood trail off of me and go down the drain. I inhale and take a deep breath and collect on what happened tonight.

Us being kids, going to the car race, having Pers surprise us with that, fighting off people, and lastly killing someone.

I don't feel any remorse and I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. They say killing someone you lose apart of your soul, yet my soul is still in tack.

Why is that for me?

Is it because I'm different?

Or is it because I enjoyed seeing the lifeless body that I had taken?

Some people will call me crazy and lock me up in a mental hospital, but the people I call family didn't say anything, but let me embrace my demons.

It's weird to think how I got here and seeing how far along I came. I've thought many times of just killing myself. Picking up the knife and making a deep enough cut to where my body turns cold.

The color of my face drains into a pale color. My once luscious pink full lips turning a purple color. The light out of my eyes gone and just filled with darkness.

Yet I never really had a light in my eyes since I was 3. That was when I got my first hit. Me being so young and innocent thought that it was normal.

I've read that parents discipline their kids and me thinking none of it thought I was getting disciplined. Over time though I realized that none of the stuff I did was wrong. They enjoyed seeing me in some type of pain, whether it was either physical, mental, or emotional.

Parents of the fucking year.

Now them putting a hit out on me was the icing on the fucking cake. Nothing can explain their hatred towards me and I've always wanted to know that. But you know what they say curiosity kills that cat, but the cat has 9 lives.

Feeling the water getting a bit colder I got out of my translucent state and started to wash my body. I take some soap and scrub my body. The once body that was filled with light is now filled with darkness.

The innocence I had left is now gone and replaced with a tainted soul. I'm no longer a saint but a sinner at most. My first kill at 18 and I dont feel anything.

The crazy part is that a part of me is happy that my first kill was someone I don't know. I always thought by first kill was going to be my parents.

I've planned their deaths a while back, ever since that horrid night. That night was one of the worst beatings I got. On top of that it was when my own mother molested me.

Goosebumps erupt my body and I shiver at the memory of that night. The only thing I remember is that they were livid at someone and took it out on me.

Me. Their own fucking kid.

At first they said I deserved it, all of their wrong doing were my fault. All the bad things that happened to them were my fault. The asshat of a father beat me up until I was black and blue. That night I thought I was going to see the light everyone was talking about, but I lived to see another day.

After my horrendous beating I found some strength and made it to my room. I cleaned myself up and just laid in bed. I couldn't sleep that night I was up and alert for any movement.

My mother came in and at first I was conflicted on her intentions. I was vulnerable and weak that night that I was practically begging for her comfort ness and love.

She was a good manipulator I'll give her that, acting like she cares and showing how sorry she is, only to turn around and throw it back in my face.

She started to touch me down there and I was uncomfortable, but I couldn't move even if I wanted to. Daddy dearest gave me the beating of the lifetime.

I told that bitch to stop multiple times only to keep continuing until I mustered enough strength to push her off, even though that push hurt me.

She got up and started to scream at me to which I simply didn't care to listen, she walked out my room and slammed my door.

Reliving that memory bought down tears that I didn't know was present on my face until I felt hot streams on my face, and a salty taste that made its way into my mouth.

I wanted to scream, destroy something, yell at anything but mostly just cry. I couldn't help notice that my body started to go down and the tears were starting. I screamed in pain, yelled out loud for the world to hear me, but ultimately I just cried.

Cried so fucking hard because why does shit happened to me. Sperm donor said that crying was for weak ass men. He always made sure that I was "tough" in his eyes.

Crying doesn't make you weak, it makes you stronger.

I cry harder and louder about my whole fucking life, about the beatings, being molested, and other torture I had to endure.

I cry because of the many times I thought about ending it all and just killing myself and letting them win. But the voice in my head always fought back. The voice in my head is a major reason why I'm alive.

Another thing I cry about is something good happening to me then almost getting it taken away. All the heartache I've endure is enough to kill anyone itself.

I just cry and cry until my tears are no more. I haven't cried that hard in so long and it feels good to let everything out.

Calming myself down I turn off the shower and wrap the towel around my waist. I put lotion on my face and then my body. I got dressed in my briefs and sweats.

I discarded the towel and made my way to my bed. I peel the covers back and swiftly get in. I rub my eyes and notice my tiredness, but due to my active mind sleep isn't going to come easy.

I take deep breaths and just replay everything in my head. Are these the obstacles that I will have to face later in life?

A smile tugs on my lips as I know that not everything in my life has been bad. I meet people who give me a reason to keep on living and I'm forever in their debt.

But I know one thing is that my creators are a problem and they have to go. It was one thing to threaten and try to kill me, but mess with my family now that's where I draw the line.

I can feel my eye get heavy and I let the darkness consume me.

Creators messed up so bad not even the devil can save them now.