Bishop |18+|

Ch.54

Antonio

~One week later~

Today marked the 11th month. 11 months...
It's been 11 months since I've met her.

The snow storm surpassed, leaving the land decorated in a blanket of soft white snow, thick in its form. No one bothered to go out, and for the first time in a while, the city felt like a ghost town. The days were cold—the nights even colder.

I forgot what it felt like to sleep alone.

I don't think I've ever felt this much... pain in a while. It's been long, 16 years. For years I've been serving my job as the Sicilian Mafia's Don—10 years to be exact. I don't have enough experience, I know and for the first time in my family's history, I tried to make a change.

I know the Bishops were cruel people, no doubt. Everyone in my family has a purpose, and obviously everyone has something to justify their actions.

Money, drugs, whores, lead. It's all the same shitty excuses.

Brutality isn't always the answer to mistakes. Brutality isn't always the answer to betrayal. One man—one man had to change that for me.

And he's right on the other-side of this fucking door.

Standing in front of the white enclosed room, I glanced down at the metal handles, the very ones that were begging me to open. Ray was on my left, his arms crossed as he looked down at Bear, who sat down beside me, growling at the door. Having to visit this farm every fucking day was making me grow anxious by the second, and it was clear Ray was feeling the same way.

Gently patting Bear's head, I let out a sigh, fetching into my pocket to pull out a silver brass knuckle. "You'll have your turn. Stay patient."

Slipping one onto my right hand, I clenched and unclenched my fingers, looking down at the red and blue marks that decorated my skin.

My knuckles were bruised.

Straightening out my black dress shirt and undoing the creases, I walked forward, pushing the doors open to let a chill breeze flow through. It was dark, humid and reeked of metallic blood and piss.

His whimpers made me so fucking mad.

With nothing but the light hums of a fan within an air conditioner, as well as the distant flicker of a green light, I let out a heavy breath.

"Lights." I snapped. Ray walked forwards and positioning himself against the wall, he flicked a switch.

In an instance, the cold room was illuminated. The white walls and white tiled floor stood menacingly. Old, dark red blood seeped between the tiles and was drawn down towards a drain that held gunks of torn off flesh on its grill.

The humid room reeked of rotting flesh, and finally setting my eyes down, I glanced over at my padre—tied up to a metal chair.

His face was unrecognisable, completed with red and blue bruises. His feet were hammered broken, so was a leg that held a rotting flesh wound that Bear made himself. With a few teeth missing, hair ripped out and two swollen eyes infected from the blood mixed tears seeping into his cornea, I frowned.