Page 32 of Unforgivable Ties

I quickly released my knee and grabbed him by the back of his head, propelling his body forward and slamming him into the coffee table. The glass shattered beneath the weight, shards piercing his skin as he screamed in pain. I couldn’t help but smile; there was an artistry in extracting pain that only few could appreciate.

Ricky squirmed on the floor, his blood mixing in with the broken glass.

“I’m sorry, man! Whatever you need, I’ll get it to you!” he gasped, fear prevalent in his eyes.

“I don’tneedanything, Ricky,” I said darkly, my boot covering his throat. “Iwantto teach you a lesson for what you did to us. But you won’t be alive to remember it.”

His hand reached out and grabbed my boot, desperately struggling to remove the pressure from his windpipe. I was relentless, immovable. I pressed harder, cutting off his air supply entirely. The sounds of his groans were replaced by those of desperate gasps for air.

I let my foot off his throat, and he gulped down air, like a man dying of thirst getting a drink of water. Then, I took my knife and stabbed both of his eyes, blinding him before he could register what had happened.

“The last thing you see and hear,” I said calmy. “Will be me.”

Then, I punched the man so hard in his ears I deafened him. Ricky screamed in agony, thrashing wildly on the floor, his hands reaching out in the darkness I had cast him into. His pleading words now came out in a broken, guttural rasp. I could see his jaw working frantically, trying to scream, but no sound came out.

“Alright,” I said to Rocco and Felix. “Let’s call it a night.”

I shot Ricky and silenced him for good.

“You want to torch the place?” Felix asked, ever the arsonist.

I thought of the little girl alone in the lower unit. Did anyone come home? Would she make it out?

“No,” I said, putting my gun back in my holster. “Let’s leave it.”

Stephanie

Ever since moving in with Vincenzo, I had turned my housekeeping skills up a few notches. I felt guilty living in that nice of a place and not paying rent. So, I cleaned every room, scrubbed every surface, and did his laundry. But I wish I wouldn’t have started doing the last one.

I’d often open his clothes basket and find a shirt or pants with bloodstains on it, and I knew it was from his work. There was no hiding the terrible things he did in the mafia from me. Not only did the stains give him away, but sometimes, he’d come home late at night with a grim look on his face that said more than any words could; the deep-set lines of exhaustion etched onto his features.

He had given me instructions to “just toss them,” but I felt horrible every time I did it. The price tags on the clothes he wore were astronomical; it felt like such a waste.

Ugh. This man was a plague, infecting every corner of my mind. And I couldn’t stop him from spreading. It was like I wanted him to slowly consume me. His body, the danger, his secrets, and even the darkness that shrouded around him.

I grumbled to myself as I fed a catheter into a practice mannequin at school. This was stupidly easy. We had a man come into the warehouse in critical condition a week ago, and after Cesare had performed emergency surgery, he showed me how to care for him. I had changed the man’s catheter countless times now.

“I’ve never seen anyone get that right the first try,” my professor said, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m just a natural, I guess,” I said, smiling and trying to shrug it off.

I most certainly did not get it right the first try. Thank god the mafioso was knocked out from all the drugs and didn’t have to feel it.

“Tch,” Preston said from beside me.

He had been increasingly more irritating since he found out I was “dating” Vincenzo. He wanted to know who he was, what we were doing, and where we went. I constantly had to remind him it was no longer his business what I did.

Now that I no longer wanted him in my life, there was nothing he wanted more than to be a part of it. How ironic.

“What?” I asked as the professor walked away. “Mad I did something better than you, again?”

Being with Vincenzo had given me a newfound sense of confidence I didn’t know I had. When Preston and I were dating, I was docile, always agreeing with everything he said and doing whatever he wanted. Now I held my head high, unafraid to stand my ground. I wasn’t the same girl anymore, the one he could manipulate or belittle.

“Who are you?” Preston’s voice was harsh, accusing, his gaze partitioned with a mix of irritation and bewilderment. His eyes searched mine, seeking an answer I wasn’t willing to give.

“Someone better off, now that you’re not around,” I shrugged, packing up my school supplies.

Vincenzo wasn’t around to take me to work today. So, I entertained myself by people watching as I rode the subway. I saw a couple teenagers filming a TikTok, doing whatever dance was popular at the moment. There was a homeless man in the corner, petting his dog that was curled up by his feet. A girl my age sat across from me, her nose buried in a book, oblivious to the world around her.

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