Trained by the Mafia

Chapter 35: 0283

*mention of cutting*

SAM'S POV

Finley had just left, he said that my wounds were healing well but that he wouldn't give me back razors and wasn't definitely going to release the knives. You see, when he found out that I was cutting myself, he confiscated my razors and everything with which I could have cut my wrist or any part of my body; plus he had hidden the kitchen knives in a cabinet which was currently locked.

I was glad he did that, at the moment I too was scared of what I could do. I didn't like self-harming, but the pain that I felt when the blaze came in contact with my soft flesh, was the most relaxing thing. It would make my mind go blank, finally my head wasn't hurting with painful thoughts and I was just staring at the red little river which was flooding down to the marble pavement.

I snapped out of that memory before temptation got to me, making me do stupid things. I was aware that it was bad, but today good or bad things are based on what society thinks. Those concepts are made to mold you like the rest of the population, like you are nothing more than what society sees you as. Today, we only see how a person appears, its clothes, its cleanliness, nothing more; one can try everything in order to try and change what people think but in vain.

It reminded me of a book that my mother read to me: Boule de Suif, by Maupassant. It talked about a woman who was...a woman of easy morals, if you know what I mean; she was escaping from an invasion and hopped in a caravan along with other nobles and some nuns. She has shared the food she had as well as saved them from being imprisoned by the invaders but not even this has made them change their minds about her.

Fuck, even if it was from 1840 it was so damn current. I released an ironic laugh, thinking how society hasn't changed not even a slightest bit; even if we considered ourselves better than our past lives, we are so damn wrong.

"You coming?" I heard a feminine voice ask from the door frame.

"Yeah...yes I'm coming" I whisper as I stand up on my unsteady legs.

Not eating for 3 days hasn't done me any good and I only understand it now that my legs are barely holding me up. I managed to climb the stairs and I reached the three people who gladly took me in, around the table, full of food. There were pancakes and waffles, along with some sauce to flavor it, some brioche, nutella, biscuits and milk.

I sat down on the only stool that wasn't occupied by anyone and stared at the bunch of food that was well displayed in front of me, making my mouth watered. I remember Max saying that I had to eat and so I did, I didn't want to upset them more than I have already done. I started with some pancakes and coated them with nutella; I was way too hungry to think about calories and I think that gaining some weight would have done me only good.

When I finished, I looked at them and I saw their smiling faces. I couldn't figure out what they were smiling about, I mean I had only eaten, nothing special. I made a motion to stand up, craving the bed and the room's silence as well as my train of thoughts and fantasies; but a hand made me still.

My whole body trembled, I could feel panic beginning to prevent me from breathing but it slowly faded away when the hand left my body. As I looked up, I saw Monica's eyes, in them I noticed regret and guilt but again, I couldn't figure out what those emotions were for.

"Sorry Sam, I just wanted to say something to you before going back to your room" she said, smiling at the end as to show that she didn't mean anything bad.

I just nodded, not trusting my voice and not entirely sure if it would even utter a sound. I waited for her speech but she seemed hesitant about what she wanted to tell me as if she was scared of how I would react. Her little doubt made me even more uneasy because now, I knew that it wasn't a pleasant thing.

"I was wondering if you would come with me today, I have a few things to do around the city...some volunteering" she said, after a while and I looked at her like she had grown another head.

"It would make you good Buddy, going out and taking some fresh air can help you clear your head" James said, encouraging me.

Finley was the only one who hadn't said anything about this 'little trip' with his wife, so must have been displeased about the idea. Out of the three, Finley was the one that I couldn't figure out, the only person which I couldn't decipher. He didn't talk much if not for saying things like they were, without any filter or sugarcoating the news.

I liked him, he almost seemed like me, an older version of me. I've noticed how his body would stiffened whenever someone he didn't know touched him, how his steps and movements were always silent and mostly accurate. Once, I've even thought about him being an ex-assassin but I immediately discarded that idea; no one could be anything else once they have been an Assassin once.

But again, that thought would have reappeared whenever I looked at him, whenever I noticed that he always wears these long sleeve shirts, even now that the weather was beginning to turn hot. It seemed like nothing but to train an Assassin is a great and dangerous detail, because once you are certified and well trained, an Assassin is marked with a tattoo on their inner left arm, so that they would be recognized immediately by their owner.

I had my tattoo there, on my arm, a set of 4 numbers with which I was classified and recognized every time I returned to a mission. The first two numbers give the essential information of an Assassin: the lower the number is, in a scale of 0 to 99, the deadliest the person was. The other two would show the last two numbers of the year you were born in. My numbers were 0799 and being a tattoo there weren't many chances to remove it but you could hide it by wearing long sleeves or foundation.

"Buddy? Are you alright?" I heard James say, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Yes, sorry, I I would rather stay here" I said, hoping that they would let me stay here.

"Alright Sam, but James and I are going out to this event so, Finley will stay here with you to keep you company" Monica said, her voice sweet like honey and I could only nod as I was already thinking about how I could know Finley better. Or more like what secret was he hiding.

Two hours later, Monica and James bidded me goodbye and left me in the living room with the mysterious guy. Imagining what secrets Finley had was taking my mind away from the depressive thoughts that were haunting me for days by now. I was intrigued by him, by his demeanor but mostly by his confidentiality.

Although I was here for 4 weeks, he had barely talked to me strictly for work, asking me if everything hurt, giving me some meds as well as bandaging my cuts. Now that we were alone and in the same room, I could ask a few questions and hope that he would answer me instead of going away like he always did.

We were sitting on the couch, I was at the extremity of it and he was on the other one, zapping through the channels, searching for a film to watch.

Great, he didn't seem like he was going anywhere but I didn't know how to start a conversation. I mean, I couldn't just ask him to spill the tea about himself, I, myself, didn't want to reveal anything about me but not being able to figure out what he was up to made my mind run wild.

As I was so into my thoughts, I didn't notice that he had turned off the TV and was rising up to his feet. I noticed him rolling up his sleeves as he took a few steps towards me, making me stand up as well. I remained still, looking as he finished rolling up his long-sleeve shirt, displaying a tattoo that I knew all so well. There, on his left arm were 4 numbers 0283.

"You and I are going to have a little chat" he said, his voice low.

There, I understood that Monica and James already knew that I wasn't going to accept what they had offered and left me to the wolf.