Silence And Submission (Editing)

In Which Death Comes Knocking 2

Gone? I shook my head frantically. No! No! No! No! It was impossible. Maybe he'd slipped into a coma and we needed to rush him to the hospital. Maybe uncle Vincentè was not as good a doctor as we thought he was.

"We need to get him to a hospital," I said, trying to push my way into the room.

"You don't understand, Irene," he said, "he's dead. He was stabbed repeatedly in the chest. There is no way he could have survived it."

I forced my way into the room and swallowed a gasp when I saw grandpapa lying still with the white bed sheet covering his body from head to toe stained red at the chest. I fell to my knees unable to stop the sobs that escaped my mouth. I ignored the lessons taught by my mother. I ignored uncle Paulo's hand on my shoulder rubbing back and forth soothingly.

"Call Ricardo. Tell him to meet me in the study," uncle Paulo said to his brother.
He patted my shoulder once more and left the room.

"Irene," mama said as she pulled me onto my feet, "we need to go so that the men can take the body out to the mortuary."

She didn't sound like a grieving woman. Her voice was firm and unwavering.

"Irene," she said again when I refused to stand up. "The press will be soon gather here like flies. We need to start the funeral preparations."

I could almost imagine the headlines.

'Alvaro De Laurentis, Chicago Mafia Boss, Found Dead on His Bed'.

"I want to see him," I said. "Just one more time."

"No. I don't want you having nightmares," she said.

Nightmares? Grandpapa had never scared me when he was alive and I doubted he would scare me in death.

"Just one more time. Just once."

I walked to the bed and slowly pulled back the stained covers.

"Oh grandpapa," I sobbed.

"Irene."

He was gone. He was really gone.

"We need to leave," she said.

I nodded and followed her out of the room after placing the sheets over his face again.

Thank you for waiting.
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