Mafioso

Full story.

As I sat at the bar watching my mother take the pane casereccio out of the oven the smell of the warm bread flew into my body. I inhaled and immediately quivered due to the feeling of my ribs being used as rolling pins, however that was just a figment of my imagination, a distraction of the true fact that my father, drunkenly beat my mother and I the night before. I chose to be ignorant of the pain because my mother knew the situation we were in, I just didn't want to make it worse. My mother cut the bread and spread my favorite cioccolato on top of the slice. Making eye contact with her tired eyes was one of the most difficult things to do. I began to pray in my head and everything else around me continued to sway without a sound. I looked at her moving mouth, but heard nothing. I knew what she said to me went something along the lines of Buon Compleanno Armani, Ti Amo. It was my birthday that day, and everything went to hell.

I quickly ate the bread because my father hated when we ate what we were supposed to sell. As I started to lick the chocolate off of my fingers I had realized that my mother's bread was truly the best in town. Sadly, the bakery didn't pay for my father's debts. It would have saved my mother's life. I wondered if he had remembered my birthday, but I didn't want to bring any attention to myself. After all, I hated him for bruising my mother's beautiful face.

Hours later he came rushing into the bakery. He didn't seem to be angry with us anymore. He seemed to be in fear. I didn't think that a man of his size was capable of such thing. I still have yet to meet a coward like him. When he ran in he began to tell my mother he loved her and that he was sorry for all of his wrong doings. He told my mother to take me and leave, but she demanded to know what was going on. That was her final mistake.

In the blink of an eye, a group of men in black suits came in. They were screaming at my father, asking for their money. My father gave them what he had but it wasn't enough. The men put a gun in my father's mouth and pushed on the trigger with no hesitation. I closed my eyes because the hot blood was now dripping all over my face. My mother was uncontrollably screaming. They kept telling her to shut up. They were trying to explain that my father had a debt due to all the drugs he had gotten from them with promise of a later pay. They were also trying to tell her that in order to pay that debt now, they had to take me. They apologized, and killed my mother.

I will never forget the noises from that night. To this day I cannot close my eyes without hearing the sound of my mother's screams.

When the men took me from my parents bakery they blindfolded me and took me into a vehicle. It felt as if we were driving for days to our destination. When we finally arrived I was so weak and in pain and still shaking from all that I had been through. Some men began to speak in English the others in Italian. The men speaking in my language were wondering who I was. I don't know what the Americans wanted. When we got to the place they took off my blindfold and let me admire my new home. It was the biggest estate I had ever seen in my entire life. It was cold that night, fall nights in Italy were always chilly. When I entered the house, an older lady welcomed me with hugs and kisses. She told me that I would be safe here and that I had nothing to fear. She asked me if I was hungry, I quickly nodded.

When I was finished with the delicious Alfredo that she had prepared for me, two of the men in suits were waiting for me. I followed them into an office they told me to sit and wait for the boss. When the boss came into the office, the room went cold.

He stood in front of the desk he unbuttoned his tuxedo and sat in the chair. He ran his hand through his hair, took a deep breath and began.

"I am sorry for the unfortunate events that have occurred today. Your father was useless trash. He was an alcoholic drug addict who was not going to pay his debt so we had to kill him. We had to take justice into our own hands. I hope you are not too hurt considering the fact that you look like a punching bag. I am pretty confident that my men did not do that. As for your mother I apologize. It truly is the hardest thing to experience. Watching her die. But you see we would have never been able to take you with her involved."