Mr.Capone

. 3 .

I shouldn't have lied.

I only lied to Mr.Capone once. And it would turn out to be the worst decision of my life.

I should've told him "No sir"

I might've got beat.

I might've got killed.

It would have been better than the punishment that god served me.

The scenery was all wrong. It was a warm end-of-May day and the sun shone brightly through the windows. The sky was a beautiful a shade of aqua, and there wasn't a single cloud.

But in my mind, it rained all day. It hasn't stopped raining since.

"Micheal." I looked up from the book I'd been studying to see Mr.Capone standing all too solemnly, as if he had some bad news.

He didn't give me a chance to reply.

"Follow me"

It started out like any other walk we'd ever taken. I followed him as we passed by saloons and shops, tenement houses and hoovervilles, rivers and sidewalks. Eventually we'd wandered far from the city and into an open field of flowers, and that was the moment I felt sick.

Because I knew this wasn't just a walk. This was by no means a casual stroll through the community. Something was wrong.

On the other side of the field there was a car and about three people.

And as we got closer my stomach sank even more. The car was dark with tinted windows, the kind that was usually used to transport questionable goods in Mr.Capone's field of business.

But it wasn't the car that scared me.

Standing beside the car was a dust covered kid holding a shovel. He wore a shirt all to obviously sewn fron a cotton flower sack and brown pants. He was short and skinny, like he hadnt been fed enough, but he had large blue eyes. And in that moment, they pierced straight through me. In a splut second, in those eyes, I saw the whole universe laid out in front of me. Those eyes would haunt me forever.

They were called grave boys. There job was to follow around gang members and do their dirty work for them. They often worked for no more pay than food, and were often a warning sign that death was coming.

"Thank yous for ya work, Kellin." Mr.Capone praised the boy as we approached "Why dontcha have a seat in the car?".

Kellin nodded curtly and bowed to me, leaning his shovel against the car and making his way to the front passenger seat.

My stomach dropped as I noticed what lay before me.

A large hole, roughly 6 feet in diameter and seven feet deep lay dormant in the ground. The smell of gasoline filled my nose and as I leaned over a bit I noticed that the ground at the bottom was covered in amber brown puddles.

I looked questioningly up at Capone.

"Micheal" Mr.Capone began "You's been a good boy all these years. You's got my liquor for me, shined my shoes, and done it all right.".

I nodded, my eyebrows knotted in confusion. None of it made sense.

"You even killed that Perry boy for me, didn't ya'?"

The question hangs all too thick in the air, and I know he knows. I don't have to answer.

"Com'ere, Mikey." He jerks me forward by my arm and pulls me closer to the edge of the hole "Tell me what you smell".

Hesitantly, I inhale.

"Kerosene, sir."

"And what's that make you think about?"

"Fire, sir."

"And whats that make you think about?"

My head swirls with images of Perry. I see him hold a joint between his lips, bring the metal towards his mouth. Flick, light, burn the innocence.

Once again, I don't have to answer.

"Why didn't ya tell me you was a fag, boy?"

From then, everything went all too fast.

There he was. My love, being hastily ripped out of the back seat of the car. All the innocence was gone, torn from his glassed eyes like curtains ripped from their rod; like pages from that god damn notebook. Traces of coke still speckled his left nostril, alcohol induced sweat rolled off his forehead.

One push was all it took to send him tumbling into the pit.

Capone handed me a match

"I told you to do the job boy, an' ya' gonna fuckin do it."

Took my hand in his, struck the match on the box in his right hand. He tucked the box safely away, and pulled out from his coat pocket my Smith & Wesson. The very one I was supposed to kill Tony with.

"Drop it"

He commanded, but I couldn't.

"Drop it, god damnit!"

Tony's glassed stare penetrated me from the bottom of the pit where he had barely managed to sober up enough to find himself sitting.

I couldn't.

Tears rolled

"Just shoot me." I sobbed "Just shoot me."

I turned to meet Capone's eyes, and I realized: He couldn't.

"Kellin!" He yelled, causing the mop-haired boy to barrel out of the car "Finish the job."

Kellin pulled out a matchbox from his trouser pocket.

"No, no !"

He struck a match

"Shoot me! Shoot me please its not his fault! Burn me, don't take him from me please!"

Capone holds me back from lunging at Kellin who delicately tossed a match and managed to burn my whole world down.