Creed of the Leviathan II

22 | M

Mattia

".......the truth and only. The truth."

Her eyes stayed on me; I could feel them on my skin. It was as if she was reading me like a book and was now at the chapter that covered how I felt deep down, where all my fears and secrets were exposed.

A hard swallow tugged at my dry throat. Was this it? I asked myself. Is this where I let her in on everything, starting with my father— our father, the man she loved so dearly. The man who brought her into his house and treated her like a princess, better than he ever treated any of the children who have his name. 

"After Marco died, I hired a few men. More men." My heart bounced fast, "To watch over the others, myself. You and Dom."

Her eyebrows jumped up, but she remained quiet.

"Because I refuse to bury any of you like I did Marco. And dad." I continued.

"Marco's death, it isn't your fault. And neither was dads." Her voice was low in tone. As we neared Marissa's apartment, I reduced the speed that we were going at. Nuelle kept looking over at me, waiting for The explanation.

The building had valet even for guests, but since there was so much vacant parking space nearby, I chose one to park in. My hand stayed on the wheel even when the engine died down. 

"Do you remember dad's death?" My lips trembled at the deliverance of the one question that started the topic I dreaded to converse about.

She stared in front of her, "I remember the funeral." She paused by sighing inaudibly. "I didn't get to see him. I don't know if Marissa or Marco did, but I remember you closing the casket. And I remember Tia coming into my room that night, telling me that we would be leaving the next day." Nuelle pushed her hair out of her face, she sniffed her nose while doing so. "And I asked her if you guys were coming too."

"I was out partying that Friday night," The memory replayed in my head like a movie. "I came home at three in the morning, which was earlier than I normally came home. I found him in the garage, hanging from the ceiling."

Nuelle froze in her movement, like a mannequin. She did not know that my father— our father died because of suicide. 

"They couldn't conceal the mark that the robe left around his neck. And his eyes," I stopped myself. How he looked, it was not something that they needed to know. "They didn't see him. Only Emillio and I did." My hands fell into my lap. I hated this. Every part of it; having to explain myself, letting her see me like this. I looked weak and I felt that way too. 

'There is no place for weakness in this life of ours,' my father would have told me if he saw me like this. We do not cry for others to see; we do not get knocked down. We do not give others the chance at authority above us. We are the leviathans, in our business and of our family. 

"Dimitri," I felt her hand on mine before I even heard her say my name. Nuelle was not mad, nor was she sad. But there was a hint of worry in her eyes when her eyebrows knitted together. "We don't have to talk about this. It won't change anything." 

She was right. Everything was perfectly planned out by whatever higher power one might believe in. Talking about my father or brother would never bring them back. However, that was not why I felt compelled to explain myself. I did, because I refused to lie any further to Nuelle.

"I was twenty-four. I didn't know what I was doing. Marco and Marissa already knew how shit worked; they were already exposed to — to this life. You weren't. You were a teenager; I could not look after you. I could barely look after them." This explanation was long overdue, but Nuelle deserved it.