Page 111 of Capuleto

In them, Yuri transformed from a child into a kind of demon with sharp teeth, humming our song while spinning his pistol. I felt uneasy, begging him to return to being himself, my playmate, my beloved brother, to stop his obsession with destroying the Capulets.

A door appeared out of nowhere, and R emerged from it. I wanted to warn him, to scream at him to leave, that he wasn’t safe, I ran and collided with an invisible wall that held me on the other side of a transparent barrier.

My voice wouldn’t come out, no matter how hard I tried, and he didn’t seem to see Yuri, who pulled the trigger and blew his head off in front of me.

I screamed, pounding the wall, which now did shatter under my fists. I ran to him, not caring that the glass cut the soles of my feet, and when I reached R, all that was left was that reproachful gaze that would haunt me forever.

My body convulsed as I woke up, in pain and unable to cover myself. Any kind of movement felt like running a marathon for which I wasn’t prepared.

No one opened the door, no one cared about the ordeal I was going through, I was alone in this, in the end, I had always been alone in everything. Exhaustion once again pulled me into that drowsy state. I knew I would dream the same thing again, yet I couldn’t avoid falling asleep.

When the door to the room slammed against the wall, I wasn’t even aware it was because my last nightmare had coincided with R’s visiting hour. I had no idea if much time had passed since the last visit, or if I had been having one bad dream after another.

My eyelids were too heavy to open and see his frantic face holding the gun.

I was thirsty, and my bones felt like they were about to break. I had never felt so weak and so ill.

I heard a noise. I was too out of it to realize it was his gun hitting the nightstand. Two hands shook me, but I couldn’t respond, I was incapable.

I felt the bindings on my arms being untied.

A small whimper escaped my vocal cords. Too many hours in the same position.

His voice shouting. My body convulsing. Weightlessness. Water.

45

My body is burning

Imuttered several curses as I got into the shower with Nikita.

I didn't care about going in fully dressed or that she was still undressed. I had left her that way for convenience; after all, she wasn't going to leave the room, and she was always naked in bed.

I had been stressed for three days, hating her to death for making me feel like a puppet. I left the house and went straight to the hospital once I ensured Aleksa was stable. The doctor told me he had lost a lot of blood, and a fractured rib had punctured one of his lungs. He said Aleksa was a strong man and that I should have faith.

Faith was the only answer, the burning nail to hold on to when science says there is nothing more that can be done. I couldn’t lose Aleksa like I lost Dante; neither of them deserved that fate.

He was in the ICU, so they didn’t let me in. I saw him through the glass and swore that I would take down the traitor who had betrayed us. I drove to my father’s house, not caring that it was the middle of the night. Urgent matters don’t have a schedule.

He greeted me groggily, but seeing my state, he fully woke up. He led me to his study, wrapped in his cashmere robe. He poured a couple of glasses of aged bourbon.

I could have used the entire bottle to calm my nerves.

Without much preamble, I told him what had happened. I preferred to get it all out as quickly as possible.

One of my father's most peculiar traits was that he would stay silent while you told him anything. He listened intently until the person in front of him finished their statement. He said that when someone had something to say, the best approach was conscious listening so that nothing was missed.

He had a theory that people who interrupted their interlocutors were poor listeners. Why? Because, according to him, those people were not focused on what was being said but on the response they wanted to give or the next question they wanted to ask. This way, they could miss many details of the information. That's why he waited until the end to say his piece.

He stroked his mustache with concern when I admitted that I recognized my mistake and said I was ready to face the consequences. I had failed the 'Ndrangheta and would take myself out once I had dealt with my brother-in-law and my wife.

He raised his hand to silence me. He took a slow sip and shook his head.

"You can’t do that."

"I took the oath."

"You haven’t betrayed us; you may have defended the wrong woman, but remember, I put her in your life. If anything, the mistake would be mine, and if someone has to answer for it, it would be me."

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