Chapter 30

Golden ivy ran along the edge of the double doors like haunting frame. The intricate carvings were just as beautiful and pristine as they were twelve years ago. Yet everything about them had changed. This was no longer the entrance to my parent's bedroom, but a gateway into my nightmares.

I could still smell the blood. Every breath I took caused more of that coppery tint to hang in the air.

Honestly, I didn't know why I was here? All day long my father's words lingered in the back of my mind. Atlas wasn't perfect but he was the only person who gave a shit about me. for two years I kept his memory alive.

The sound of his voice and twinkle in his eye when he laughed were permanently ingrained in my mind. All I had to do was close my eyes and I'd see him again. He was my brother. My blood.

Despite what everyone said, I couldn't think of a single instance where he gave me reason to doubt him. That's what I told myself while I sat in my room after school. Yet here I was, trying to make myself reach out and grab the doorknob. As if some secret I forgot was hidden on the other side.

"This is stupid." I told myself. "Just go in."

Nothing was going to happen. All the memories in that room died years ago. It was nothing more than a tomb now.

Rolling my shoulders back, I turned the knob, threw the door open, and stepped inside.

The curtains were drawn, casting shadows throughout the room, but sunlight still shone off a torn piece of yellow police tape laying on the floor.

Ignoring the chill creeping up my spine, I headed further in, towards the walk-in closet. My heart picked up with every step I took. I could see scratch marks and discoloration in the hardwood. The fire engine I'd been playing with that day was still on the bed right next to my mother's purse.

I bent down to pick up a small green sweater on the ground. Dust particles glimmered in the air as I ran my thumb over the material. I hated this thing. The knitted wool was heavy and itchy, but it was her favorite. Every time there was a slight breeze in the air, my mother would pull this thing out.

"I don't want to wear it."

"You have to, Gio. It's cold outside."

"But it's itchy." I said, along with the ghost of my former self.

If I'd have just put the damn thing on, we wouldn't have been here when they broke in. We would've been at the park having a picnic. Five minutes I wasted arguing with her. Five minutes, then…

Bang.

My heart slammed against my chest as I spun around, expecting to hear more gunfire and footsteps running up the stairs. There was nothing there. It was all in my head.

Sucking in a deep inhale, I dropped the sweater back on the floor and stepped around the bed.

"Mommy."

"It's okay, baby. It'll be okay."

She picked me up and hid me in one of the cupboards in the walk-in closet. The door to which was still open.

"Don't make a sound Gio, no matter what you hear, you keep quiet, okay?"

She knew what was about to happen. I didn't know that then, but I could see it now. She accepted her fate the second the first shot was fired. Four more rang out before they came in. Their footsteps echoed through my ears.

"What are you going to do with that, Cheri?"

Bang.

My head jerked to the side, searching for the ghost of a bullet. After which, I gave my head a shake.

"Get a grip Gio, there's no one here."

At least that fucking carpet was gone. The stain from my mother's blood however remained. It was just a slight stain in the hardwood, but I could see it clearly. It was right there. A big pool of crimson that slid under the bed.

"My husband will find you."

A snide chuckle rang through the air. "No he won't."

My eyes locked onto four gouges that dug into the wooden grain. Fingernails. She tried to get away. I heard her clawing at the ground.

Screech… screech…. screech.

It was never ending. Sometimes it mingled with her screams, sometimes with their laughter and mockery. A constant screech under every sound. She never stopped fighting, until she couldn't fight anymore.

Then came the deafening silence. I don't know how long it lasted. Minutes? Hours? Days? It was just there along with a sense of finality that even as I child, I knew meant she was gone.

I walked over to her vanity. Every morning I would come in here and watch her get ready. The way she dusted colors on her face seemed magical to me. Now the bottles placed out on the table were forgotten and covered in dust. Except for one. One crystal bottle perfume bottle with a little golden pump was clear and clean.

Curious, I picked up and sprayed some in the air. Instantly I was brought back to the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, and how warm it felt when she wrapped her arms around me.

I could see her hair blowing in the wind while she pushed me on the swing. I'd forgotten what she smelled like. But who was in here? Who was messing around with my mother's things?

That's when I noticed the ashtray with a half smoked cigar in the corner. The only person who smoked cigars in this house was my father. Was that there before? I couldn't remember. I didn't think so.

Atlas was the one who pulled me out of the cupboard. Romeo and my father tried to shield me from the mess, but I still saw the blood and her cut up leg. What I didn't see was that ashtray. It wasn't there before.

"Gio?"

I jumped at the sudden sound of Romeo's voice calling me.

Jesus Christ, I needed to stop being so jumpy. This was just a room.

"In here."

He peeked his head in the door and cocked a brow. "What are you doing in here?"

"I was looking for something." I said while placing the perfume bottle back in its spot.

"What were you looking for?"

"It doesn't matter." I wouldn't find it anyway. My father was wrong about Atlas.

"Okay." He shrugged. "I just wanted to let you know that Aldo is going to be here early."

Great. More time with my uncle. Just what I needed.

"When?" I sighed.

"Tomorrow night."

Was he fucking kidding me?

I pinched the bridge of my nose and asked, "Let me guess, dad has more tasks for me?"

"Just a couple."

Of course.

"Alright, I'm coming." This was a waste of time anyway. There was nothing to be found here.

At least that's what I thought until I was one step out the door and voice from the past stopped me.

"What is this? You were supposed to kill the boys."

Every muscle in my body tensed. I knew that voice well. Aldo had a very distinctive tone.