"There, one the balcony to the right. Take the shot when you have it."
One
Two
Three....
"Threat neutralized, pack it up and get your ass out of there Spartan."
My first mission by myself, I had been able to successfully assassinate seven rival mafia members all caporegime status and higher, even a boss, Don Scotia. It had been a year and a half since Father Domascus took me under his wing, taught me how to fight and kill in ways you only saw in horror films. Although my missions where high level threats to our family, I never felt uneasy about taking another person's life.
I suppose with all the bloodshed that Astaroth and I had encountered over the years, as well as the other lifetimes without him, killing had just become as easy as breathing, or as normal as eating.
However, what always helped me keep moving along, especially in the beginning, was knowing I had a home to go back to. I had a family with Father Dom, his wife, and kids. Even though I wasn't blood, they treated me as if I were. And I'm always grateful for that, for who they are to me.
After getting back from my mission, I was approached by Father Dom, who grabbed me and smiled for a job well done. We walked into the house, and almost immediately I was tackled by Father's youngest, his daughter Elizabeth, who was so happy I hadn't died she was on the verge of tears. After consoling her and telling her I loved her very much I hopped in the shower, cleaned off the blood and sweat, put on some sweatpants and laid in bed for a half hour.
The next few hours trudged on for what seemed an eternity. My body was tired, but my mind was running a marathon. Flash's of dead bodies on the ground, the sounds of gunshots echoing in my head like they were still being fired from the gun. After tossing and turning for the next several hours, I finally got out of bed to eat. It had been hours even before leaving for the mission. Elizabeth was in the kitchen with her mother, Maria, getting the dishes from dinner dried and out away.
A look of surprise and relief flashed across their faces as I walked through the threshold of the kitchen. I had forgotten to put clean clothes on and only successfully got one boot off. Seeing me in such a disheveled state must have been quite the shock.
"We set some food aside for you dear. Father said it would be best to let you sleep until you were ready." Maria said with a gentle smile. Before I could respond, Elizabeth blurted out, "If the leftovers aren't enough I can cook....for you...if you want." Blushing, and shyly turning to hide her face some. "Leftovers are more than enough, thank you both." I replied, with a smile,trying to keep from laughing.
Elizabeth pranced out of the room before she died of embarrassment, and as Maria was walking out, she stopped at the threshold and turned her face towards me. "I just want you to know young man, I am very glad you've made it home safe. It would be a shame if you left us so soon after finding you're family." As she walked out and ascended the staircase I stood in the kitchen with and grin on my face, I had finally found my family, one that wouldn't let me leave.
Even with all the love and support from Father, and his wife and daughter, Anthony, his son, hated me with a passion. Since being taken in I had always been given a hard time by that young man-child. He had a disdain for every aspect of who I was, and the fact that his father had taken more of a liking to me, an outsider, than his own flesh and blood. Needless to say this caused somewhat of a rift in Anthonys relationship with his family.
This particular evening must have been tough on Anthony, if I had to guess I'd say he's not thrilled that I made it back alive. As I walked out of the kitchen with a plate full of food in one hand, and a bottle of brandy, Anthony came around the corner and knocked the food onto the floor, grabbed the back of my head, and told me to eat it off the floor like the dog I was. As an answer to his statement I swiftly palm striked his gut and walked away.
As I walked back to my room, bottle of brandy in hand, I was reminded just how much of a difference there was between those who work for what they have, and those who expect something from nothing.
YOU ARE READING
The Lives That I Have Lived
Historical Fiction"Have you ever felt like you're not really meant to be in this era?" This was a question asked to me when I was young. My brother Wilhelm was the one who asked. I didn't have the guts to tell him the truth. That I don't belong to this time. That I'm...
