Involved with the Mafia

3.

   Staring at the unmoving man sitting on the chair, my tears unwillingly fall endlessly. All the memories, all of the pain we've been through together. The only person I could vent to is gone.

   My best friend Klara doesn't know about what has happened to me, the frightening things I saw. No matter how hard I express myself with little subtle inklings, she still doesn't fully grasp the pain. Maybe I'll tell her tomorrow..maybe.

  Dragging my father from the chair, I push him up the stairs. I tumble with his body weight as I advance towards his room. Kicking the door open, I lay him on his bed. The room smells strongly of his cologne and a hint of my mother's sweet perfume. A blast of memories overwhelm me as a sweat drop slides down my face.

Pulling out my phone, I call the only person that could help me. After a six rings, she finally picks up.

"Klara?" My voice sounds high and alert, while her voice sounds like she just got run over by a truck.

"What in the hell could you possibly want at three in the morning?"

I don't crack a smile, instead I reply hastily, "Could you come over? It's sort of an emergency."

There was silence for about three seconds before I hear ruffling noises. "What is it?"

"I'll tell you when I get here."

A sigh sounds from the other end of the phone and my ears are victims of the endless silence. "Alright Reece."

  She hangs up the phone.

  An exasperated sigh escapes my mouth as I wait. Peering over at my father, my eyes roam pass his grey suit. Is he really gone?

Sitting at the edge of the bed, I stare and note every detail of him. His pale face used to be so alive with tan and vibrant color. My eyes trace his broad and wide shoulders, following the ruffled quality of his suit.

They took him away from me.

A knock sounds as the door. I almost fall on my face whilst I jump off the bed. Seeing the blood on my father's neck gives me an awful sense of nausea. Rushing to the bathroom, tumbling on the carpet, I throw up.

Three more knocks.

Pulling out my phone, I text Klara.

The door is open. I'm in the bathroom.

My stomach bubbles and I lean into the toilet and spill my contents.

A presence alerts me and I turn my head to look at a disgusted Klara.

"Reece.." Her voice sounds uncertain. "What on earth have you done."

  I shake my head furiously. Everything hits me at once, my father, the man in the black suit. It all comes tumbling to my brain as I lean against the wall with a thud, grabbing my hair and shaking my head.

  Just as fast as I lay against the wall, Klara grabs my shoulders and forces me to look at her. "Reece, calm down. Explain to me."

  I gulp the large lump in my throat. "My dad isn't a business man, Klara. He's, he's...." My voice sounds frantic and untamed. 

  She shakes me and curls my body into her embrace. "Sh, sh. Reece, breathe."

  She flushes the toilet and grabs me. I lay my head against my shoulder as she guides me down the stairs into the kitchen. I sit down and wrap my arms around myself. "The man in the black suit, he killed my father."

  Her eyebrows furrow. "Reece, you're not making any sense."

  I reposition myself and lay my hands on the table. "I woke up to my father being killed, Klara. He gave me a note." I uncrumble it in my hands and pass it to her. "Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides."

  She gently reads the note. She grips it with her strong tan arms. Her nails are painted purple and a bright ring catches my attention. "Who gave you that ring?"

  She goes rigid. "It's a promise ring. Wilson gave it to me." She speaks to me while eyeing the piece of paper.

  Nobody speaks for a moment, until she sucks in a breath. "Reece, I'm so sorry."

  I bite my wobbling lip. "I need to get out of here, Klara."

  Her eyes pierce into mine, which makes me flinch back. "Why haven't you called the cops?"

  I point to the blinking lights at the corner of the room. "They'll blow the house."

  "There's a pattern.." She eyes the flashing lights. "Reece," she breathes.

  "Yes?" My eyes scan to what she's referring to.

  "They're recording you at six different stations. Those types of cameras blink the same patterns over and over again."

  Klara's twin brother is a technology person, so give it up to Klara for being a technical genius.

  She looks at me with a saddened face. "Your father wasn't ordinary, Reece. This was bound to happen. We need to leave."

  I suck in a breath and spin my head towards the chair my father once sat on.

  "Don't worry, I'll clean. Just pack up some stuff, okay?"

  I nod my head, there's no point in arguing. I rush up the stairs and pack a bag with all my belongings. Looking in the mirror, I see my bloodshot eyes and pale skin. My cold hands touch the dark circles under my eyes. With a quick breath, I turn and secure my bag around my shoulders.

  Just as I was about to go downstairs, my eyes peek into the room where my father lies. Should I bring something?

  As an instinct, I dart towards the room and see my father's unmoving body. Timidly, I reach for his pockets and search for anything that I could find. I grab his wallet, a parking ticket, and his wedding ring. I see a lump in his suit and my hand absentmindedly reaches for it. I pull it and a black pistol appears. The blood drains from my face and my body goes stiff. I grip the gun and frantically push it under the bed. I pull the covers over my father's body and quickly shut the door behind me.

  With quick breaths, I run down the stairs and see Klara studying a note. "Reece, what does number 13 mean?"

  My eyebrows furrow as I take the paper in my hands. Number 13.

  My father was killed....

  "He was the 13th victim." My voice escapes hoarsely. "Klara, who's 14?"

  She looks at me for a second, then at the camera. "I honestly don't want to find out." She stuffs the notes in her pockets. "Ready?"

  I nod my head. She walks towards the entrance of the house and pulls the door open.

  Just before I walk out, I do something I would've never done before this day. 

  I spin around and give the cameras the finger.