𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄

𝐈𝐗 - 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐞

"We have to talk about that" The usual playful tone of Adriano's is gone. He leaves the room gesturing me to follow him and I do.

We are seated in the house's meeting room and we are joined by his parents, some of his men, and Lopez.

Adriano started, "The attack today was definitely just a warning. We thought we had succeeded in ridding ourselves of Alessio's attacks three years ago but no. Our biggest traitor is back. Today's attack was mediocre and normally I wouldn't worry but he involved my wife in this. Lopez's investigation says he's joined arms with the Columbian cartel." And at the last two words, my eyes shot open in fright.

"Javier Delgado is now in coalition with my former best friend, Alessio Bianchi and, before they get the upper hand, we have to take them down." Adriano continued.

I was curious to as who this Alessio was and why he parted ways with Adriano and is now attacking him but a greater burden swamped me.

Javier Delgado

My uncle.

My mind trailed off Adriano's voice. I could see him talking some more with Lopez and others contributing as they began the calculation on how to take my uncle and his new partner down.

That was the last thing I saw. Well, before my vision blurred them away and my mind took over.

My uncle was the only man I feared and for a reason at that. He was the reason I tasked myself to learn how to aim. Aiming to do all.

Aiming to gun someone

Aiming to throw my daggers

Aiming to shoot arrows

Aiming for all types of impalement

All because I was aiming to protect myself. Just in case he tried to show up in my life again.

I didn't want to be involved in the mafia and fighting but I had to learn to protect myself. From him.

But why did he have to come into my life again?
Hadn't we scarred him enough?

But why now?
I hadn't seen him since the incident, eight years ago.

The last time I saw him, I had hoped it was for good. But I guess I was wrong.

He came back a don.

He came back to hurt me again.

I started to think about what happened eight years ago, all the advice and lessons my therapist had taught me being thrown out the window.

I felt dirty again. I was nauseous again. I needed a bucket to vomit my blood into, just like before. I was out of breath because I started to feel his hands around my neck again, strangling me and depriving my oxygen intake. I felt tears fall down my cheek again and when it touches his big hand around my neck, he hits me. He slaps me across the face with all the strength in him, sending me to the floor.

What I hadn't known in reality and aside from my thinking is, I had actually fallen from my chair.

I felt strong arms pick me up. It wasn't his arms but it could be his men's. I'm surprised they aren't dragging me today. I hit the chest of the person hard and in protest.

All his men saw him hurt me.
But they were too cowardly to try to help me.

My eyes were shut. Not wanting to see the disgusting faces of his men who took me to him.

Who took me to my misery.

They consented to my suffering.

But in my usual pattern, I begged them.