Whispers: A game of Lies & Deceit

Massacre

Coffee, cigarettes, insomnia, stress or the intoxicating scent of Silvio's perfume that I could inhale so deeply at close range had turned my head. His brown eyes, slightly squinted, wrinkled at the corners, studied my face intently as I breathed slowly, feeling my lips tighten and my heart beat frantically.

The early morning in the forest, the dawn, the time when bright rays fell on the sturdy tree trunks, golden streams illuminating the bark - these were his eyes. I could see the thick stubble that hid his skin, the small moles drawn with a pen. The silence between us didn't go unnoticed and Silvio looked down, coughing.

"Your eye," the man said, not hiding his embarrassment, shifting quickly from foot to foot, pointing to my left eye, his movements jerky, as if he didn't know where to go, "red," he added.

Absorbed in my thoughts, I didn't notice the stinging pain and raised my hand to my face, stopping just in time to realise I was wearing make-up. It was probably a burst capillary. Silvio leaned closer, one hand opening the car door behind me, "Sit down".

Something flickered in his eyes. As Silvio closed the door on my side, I followed his movements with my gaze. Despite the fact that I used the same tactics with him as I did with other people, he remained cool and relaxed with me at the same time. But he was anything but Italian. I had lived in Italy long enough to understand that. Another contradiction.

We arrived at the castle ten minutes after changing the wheel, without saying a word. I could barely pay attention to the man, concentrating on my own feelings — my eye kept hurting, my heart kept beating fast, the blood pounding in my ears; all I could dream of now was a soft bed.

The man got out and slammed the door. I did the same, but immediately saw small holes in the stone walls of the castle. There were bullets all over the floor. Vitali watched me cautiously, and when he decided to come anyway, I put my hand in front of him and pressed my finger to my lips.

The man's gaze turned sharply serious and we were both silent for a few seconds before I bent down and took off my high heels, using one of them as a weapon. I walked quietly up the front steps, feeling Silvio quickly following behind me.

When I opened the front door, I immediately noticed drops of blood on the stone floor. My first thought was of Rafaele. I knew he could protect himself, but I didn't understand how he would behave with his wife.

The attackers could have been many times more than the local guards. I glanced to the side: several men were lying on the ground, and more were inside the house. A massacre had indeed taken place here, the results of which made my heart beat wildly. I couldn't lose Rafaele.

My jaw clenched, I let out a choked breath and squeezed the heel in my hand harder. I took a step forward, trying not to step on the blood. It was dark all around, the footsteps leading to the back door, so I crossed that distance quickly. Step by step I heard a soft female scream.

I was about to leave the house when Silvio stood in front of me and gestured for silence. He was the first to leave and, feeling the muscles tense throughout his body, he began to breathe heavily in an attempt to contain her aggression and panic.

There was a muffled scream in the street and I ran out into the yard to see the bloody body of my brother and his weeping wife. My eyes widened in horror and my breathing stopped. I couldn't even move. The shoe fell from my hands. I didn't care what Lynette was saying, what Silvio was doing, my brother was lying on the cold ground, his back resting on the castle wall, his head pointing to the place where he had been married a few days before.

Blinking quickly, I realised I had to act quickly, I ran over to Rafaele and felt his pulse, "He's alive".

His body was covered in blood. I couldn't see his gaze in the blue eyes because they were closed and the eyelids twitched slightly. There were drops of blood on his blond hair and all over his body. His clothes were drenched in red. I didn't recognise this man as my brother. There was a wound in his shoulder.