𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 | VMINKOOK

Graduation

When I shot Emilio in the head under the pressing gazes of my peers, I barely felt anything other than the usual shredding of my soul. It wasn't the rebirth I imagined it to be. And I didn't suddenly feel like a new person, freed from the many burdens on my shoulders.

I suppose I just didn't hate Emilio enough to be impacted by his death.

Killing him was just something that had to be done. A chore. Another body thrown onto the pile.

Emilio was gone now, but at least I had finally given him what he'd asked for so many year ago.

A quick death.

I tucked my gun into my pants and swallowed thickly at the sight of the stableboy's dead body.

I wondered if he'd felt succeful in his revenge at the end. If he thought he'd punished me enough for my existence over the course of the years we'd spent together. A part of me hoped ruining me had given him at least some satisfaction, but it probably hadn't.

My father grabbed my shoulder and gave it a squeeze, before pulling me into full hug and patting me on the back. "You've done it, mio figlio. All your hard work. It lead you to this moment."

The crowd around me dispersed and the capos began to talk amongst themselves. Two younger boys hurried to drag Emilio's body out of sight, and were most likely tasked with making it disappear.

I looked at my father and nodded, but couldn't help but wonder what the man saw when he looked at me.

The pale, sickly shade of my skin? My narrow, malnourished frame? The dark bags beneath my lifeless eyes?

No, I supposed he didn't see any of those things. My father only saw my sharp suit, and my smoking gun, and all the dead bodies behind me on my path to glory.

"Come," my father said, walking us away from the others. "I have to tell you something."

I glanced back at Camp Corleone for a moment, the place where so much had died, and felt a bitter taste in my mouth at the fact that I was free from it now. I had finally graduated. It was over.

"I had a talk with Alice and her parents," my father said, his fingertips pressing into my back as he guided me exactly where he wanted me to go. "They think it's about time you two get married."

"What?" I asked, blinking rapidly. "But..."

"I know you're not twenty-five yet, but this girl wants you very badly, mio figlio. Giving her time to change her mind would be ludicrous. There aren't many good Italian girls who would consider someone like you, you know that."

"Someone like me... meaning a criminal or an Asian?" I blurted out, both because I was genuinely curious and because I wanted to be spiteful.

"Both," my father said, his tone warning me to behave myself. "I asked her if you managed to please her in the bedroom."

I snapped my head to my father and nearly tripped over my own feet. Of course he would do something so invasive. Why was I surprised? This was my father I was talking to.

"She didn't say yes right away. Leading me to believe your bedroom skills are... lacking."

"What else did you expect..." I murmured, though I didn't mean to sound as disrespectful as I did once the words left my lips.