Silence And Submission (Editing)

Accused

I leaned on mama as we walked out of the room. I couldn't tell if I was grateful she was an unshakable cold stone or scared that nothing seemed to move her. I couldn't seem to stop my hands from shaking and mama noticed too. She gripped my hands tightly as we walked past the guards and into my room.

"I need to be alone, mama," I said as I slumped on my bed.

She run her hand theough my hair and sighed heavily. For a moment, I felt her hand tremble.

"I'll be in my room. I need to make some calls," she said, placed a kiss on my forehead and walked out of my room.

I held a pillow close to my chest as I lay on the bed thinking. Where did this leave the De Laurentis family? Will we survive under the new leadership? Who among his remaining two sons will take over?

I swallowed a sob. For a  brief moment, I wondered if grandpapa's death was cauused by someone close or if like papa, his blood stained the hands of another strange human.

If papa were to be alive, he would have been the heir of the family empire and mama would have been the undisputed matriach.

I hugged the pillow tighter and bit my bottom lip.

There was a knock on my door.

"Mistress," Lucas called.

"What is it?"

"Sigñor Paulo insists on your presence in the hall. Something has come up."

I wiped away the tear trails on my face with my hand, walked to the door and opened it. Lucas was standing stifly outside dressed in black.

He placed a hand on my arm and led me away.

"I'm sorry," he said, his grey eyes glinted grimly.

"Why?" I asked. "I'm not dead."

"You are grieving, aren't you?"

I remained silent.

"Your uncle, he... fuck!" Lucas grunted.

"My uncle what?"

"Be careful," he said. "Something is not right with him."

"Which of them?" I asked.
For some reason, I knew the person he was talking about.

"Paulo."

"Uncle Paulo? Why?" I was shocked.

"Shut up." He growled, suddenly stopping.

I tore my eyes away from him and realised we were in the hall. Uncles Vincentè and Paulo were seated. Mama stood behind grandpapa's empty chair. She was fidgety, clenching and unclenching her fingers. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and her normal impeccable pencil skirts and formal gowns were abandoned for a pair of jeans and a white shirt. I could see a gun hidden in her back pocket. Her well plucked eyebrows were furrowed and her pale lips were curled up in displeasure. Whatever it was they had been discussing, had obviously angered her.

I sat on the couch opposite my uncles.

"Irene, do you recognize this?" Uncle Paulo pointed at the earphones on the centre table.

I leaned in closer to look at it. There were drops of red on it and I suspected it was blood.

I knew whose they were and from the faces of my family, I knew they knew too.
They were mine.

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