Alvarez

Three

The vulnerability of precious things is beautiful, because vulnerablitlty is a mark of existence. - Simone Weil.

Mia
It was alarmingly quiet. I sat on my bed. My eyes fighting sleep and losing miserably. I was afraid I'd fall asleep and have a night terror. I don't know what I'd see this time. My mother or Oscar.

It seems corpses and I have a connection.

My wedding dress is discarded. It's in a black trash bag in the corner of my room. I stare at it from time to time, unsure what to make of my current situation now. My chest is heavy. I feel horribly sick. The last time I threw up like this was when my mother died. When I saw her corpse.

I stood up, began to pace. I couldn't hear anything and Albert wouldn't even let me open the window. I observed from a safe distance. Men strolled in the yard with massive weapons and scared, no, terrified faces.

Who's car is that?

I don't recognize the red BMW in the driveway. It looks brand new, as if it was just driven off the lot. No license plates. Shiny. Bold. Who could that be? Maybe one of my fathers associates. I shrugged it off.

For some reason I felt cold. Extremely cold. The rain had stopped completely. I walked into my closet and pulled out a huge sweater. I looked like trash today, but I had every right. It's been 5 hours since my fiancé was shot dead in front of my eyes.

I wonder who did it. I'm at least 90% sure Oscar might have deserved it, even though it was a bad thought. I could still smell the blood. Even though there was not a single spot on me. It was everywhere. And I can't leave my fucking room.

I paced. I waited. I listened for anything. And finally...

Albert called something out in Italian, but he wasn't speaking to me. Shortly after, he walked into my room. Very unusual but Albert and I have known each other for while now. He's a confidant. He'd never hurt me. Or let me get hurt. But the look on his face right now, showed me the thing I should be most afraid of. The fact that whoever was downstairs right now, Albert couldn't protect me from it.

"what is it Al?" I asked, and he kept his gaze down.

"ma'am, I... Your presence is needed downstairs. I can't let you go." he said. I smiled. His silver streaked hair and dad-like tummy. He was happily married, and lost his daughter in a car accident. She would've been about my age, maybe a year younger. It turned Albert to the darker side of life, and he pledged loyalty to my father. And upon discovering me, he chose to be my guard. Said he's found a piece of his Ava in me.

"who is it?" I asked, softly. He picked his head up.

"il demone" he answered. Shivers skated through my entire body.

"that's impossible. He's... he's dead." I whisper yelled. Albert ignored me.

He walked toward me and handed me a small silver pistol. I tucked it behind my back and felt the ice cold metal touch my skin. I looked up at him.

"he wants to speak to you. Alone." he said, in Italian. I was very close to fainting today. I sighed. "it'll be alright, Al. He won't hurt me, not with everyone around." I said, trying to convince him and myself at the same time.

I steeled my spine and pushed some crazy strands of hair out of my face. Albert walked close behind me and I made my way downstairs.

Tony stood outside, a cigarette pressed to his lips. He blew out the smoke and walked toward me when he heard my footfalls.

"M, you don't have to go in there if you don't want to." he said, his voice calm.

"I'll be alright. Stay close, though." I said. He nodded. Maybe Albert was wrong. Maybe he said that to frighten me. It wasn't possible Christian Alvarez was still alive. It wasn't possible he survived that gas leak at his mansion all those years ago. The world was free of him. Il demone, the greatest evil New York has ever faced. He was gone.