Acquaintances (A Mafia Romance)

Twenty-three

Rebecca Caruso

As I lay there in bed, my imagination ran wild, mustering vivid scenarios of my face seemingly disintegrating into fragments, revealing a monstrous being lurking beneath. I found myself engulfed in unsettling visions, surrounded by a crowd of people, each rectifying me with accusatory, wide brimstone eyes.

I attempted to speak, to explain myself, but my voice vanished amidst the chaos. Each lie I uttered appeared to disintegrate into a red cloud of heavy dust.

Suddenly, Marco appeared out of nowhere, his face a blend of disappointment and betrayal. "I trusted you," he said, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness that surrounded me.

Christopher's, Robert's, and Rafael's voices harmonized in unison, accusingly repeating, "How could you do this to me? To us?"

I mustered a helpless reply, "How could I? You're the ones pulling the strings." But to my dismay, nothing changed, and my words only dissipated into the void.

Desperation drove me to reach out to Marco, frantic to explain, but he stepped back, putting distance between us, clearly viewing me as the very monster I had become.

The ground beneath my feet crumbled, and I felt myself falling into an abyss of darkness; a bottomless pit of nothingness. It was as if the very foundation of my identity was disintegrating, leaving nothing but a void of lies and deception...

....

....

I jolted awake, the line between reality and imagination blurred until I found myself questioning whether I was awake or still trapped in a dream. The nightmare had felt so real, leaving a haunting residue. Taking a deep breath, I attempted to shake off the lingering dread. However, reality dawned-I was still deceiving those around me.

"I trusted you..." Marco's fictional words echoed hauntingly in my mind.

With the feeble light of morning seeping through the curtains, I reluctantly opened my heavy eyelids. The weariness of the night hung over me like a suffocating shroud.

"Chris?" I mumbled, my voice betraying the exhaustion that clung to me.

Silence greeted my inquiry, emphasizing the solitude of the room. As I attempted to rise from the disheveled bed, my limbs protested, weighed down by the toll of restless sleep. The clock on the nightstand revealed the unforgiving truth-it was already 9:40 AM, the day had begun without me.

I slid back under the covers. They were like a cozy hug, so warm and inviting. In that moment, the thought of making a lifelong commitment to the comfort cocoon crossed my mind-a blissful escape from the chaos beyond the blankets. But, just as I was about to fully embrace my lazy dreams, a sudden reminder crashed the tranquility.

"Shit, brunch with Marco!"

The words echoed in my mind, an unwelcome reminder of commitments I had momentarily forgotten. My comfort cocoon instantly transformed into a panic pod, and there I was, caught between the allure of warm sheets and the obligations of a covert brunch.

Hurrying to the bathroom, I grabbed my toothbrush, fueled by a determined sense of urgency. In the shower, I deftly multitasked, accomplishing three things at once-a feat that even George Costanza might nod approvingly at.

Racing against the clock, I darted to the nightstand, fumbling for my phone. Its cold screen illuminated with two text notifications, anchoring me to the real world beyond my chaotic mind. Plugging in the blow dryer in the bathroom, I began blow-drying my hair upside down with the warm gusts of air enveloping me, all while simultaneously sifting through the texts.